


The Long Road Home

by Penelope_Muir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Harry Potter/Daphne Greengrass, Marauder-Friendly, Multi, POV Harry Potter, POV Regulus Black, POV Severus Snape, Past James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Post-First War with Voldemort, Regulus Black & Severus Snape Friendship, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Has a Kid, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, Regulus Black-centric, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Secret Relationship, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape-centric, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Sirius Black is a Good Sibling, Spy Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 94
Words: 828,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penelope_Muir/pseuds/Penelope_Muir
Summary: Voldemort chooses Neville but the Potters do not escape unscathed.Regulus Black survives the war and establishes a Foundation in an attempt to repent for his sins.Five years later, new Foundation employee, Lily Potter walks back into Severus Snape's life.Things are about to get complicated.Note: This is not a love story.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape, Regulus Black & Black Family, Regulus Black & Original Character(s), Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 1201
Kudos: 382





	1. Prologue. November 1981: The Domino Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters within this story.
> 
> Please do not be fooled, my darlings! This is a rise-of-heroes war story, with an ensemble cast, not a love story focusing on only one romance. 
> 
> Our key players are Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Lily Potter, Severus Snape, Harry Potter and Remus Lupin. 
> 
> It's going to be a bit of a ride! I hope you enjoy it.

**Prologue**

**_15th November 1981_ **

Lily Potter stared into the vacant eyes of her husband.

James Potter didn't acknowledge her presence. Didn't even blink as she squeezed his hand; didn't react when she leaned in close, murmuring tearful words into his ear, imploring him to respond to her. To do something, _anything_ to let her know that he knew she was there.

"James," she whispered, before adding quietly, "James...squeeze my hand if you can hear me," she held his hand higher, leaning closer to him on the hospital bed. He continued to stare through her. Her breathing hitched in her throat and she raised his hand to her lips, pressing them against it as another tear escaped her.

"Lily?" a voice spoke quietly behind her.

She didn't take her eyes from her husband

"Still no change," she said, quietly, her voice almost a whisper. She felt a hand grip her shoulder and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against James and hers' clasped hands; "They said...they said if he hadn't responded by today –"

"He'll come around," Sirius spoke with such confidence that she almost believed it. But she knew that if she turned to look at him, knew that if she looked into his eyes, that she would see the same fear she felt. She would see the doubt and the anxiety. See the truth they were all too afraid to admit. It had been over a week since they had brought James to St Mungo's; over a week since he had last spoken.

She heard footsteps approach them. Unacknowledged for a moment until she heard Sirius greet the new person

 _'"_ Moony."

 _"_ Sirius."

The second greeting was colder, harder. A tone she rarely heard from Remus. But she was too distracted to be concerned.

"They found him."

Lily tensed as she awaited the name of the man who had betrayed them.

"Peter," Remus went on; "He's been taken to Azkaban. No trial."

"They should've killed him on the spot," Sirius tone was full of malice, "Should have tortured him. Made him feel what James –"

"Sirius," her voice was weary as she spoke without turning to face them.

Sirius and Remus went quiet behind her. A moment later Remus stepped forward, coming into view. She glanced at him out the corner of her eye but then looked back at James. Her eyes all for her husband. Remus drew up a chair and sat down next to her. A moment later his warm hand covered hers - the one that wasn't holding James' - squeezing it reassuringly.

It was too much.

Too much like comfort. As if James were truly gone.

"That's all I want," she whispered, before she choked up and felt the tears build up suddenly, "I just want him to squeeze my hand."

She sobbed and gasped for breath at the same time, before she turned desperate eyes to her friend - " _Remus_ " - she choked out but said no more, because she didn't know what she expected him to do.

She was pulled into his arms within a second and held tight against his chest, as she sobbed against him. The sinking realisation that, even with the war won, all was suddenly lost. 

* * *

Lily ignored the calls of her son from the corner of the room, as she sat surrounded by all the books and medical articles she could possible find containing information on the Cruciatus Curse. Its long-lasting effects, as well as those with information regarding neurological damage and treatments. It was all she had spent her time doing the past few months, ever since she had been given James' certain diagnosis. The damage to his nervous system was irreversible and there were no treatments available.

_No hope._

That's what they had been trying to tell her since then. Since they day she had crumbled in Remus' arms, almost convinced she had lost him. She was determined to prove them all wrong. Her husband was in there somewhere; he was in there and he needed her. Needed her not to give up on him; needed her to find a way to fix it. Fix him.

She wouldn't stop until she had done it.

She wouldn't stop until she had him back.

"Merlin!" Sirius voice rang out suddenly, causing her to look sharply in his direction as he walked through the door. Harry was in his arms when he addressed her; "Keep an eye on your son, will you, Lily," he said, his tone was joking but the laughter didn't reach his eyes; "He almost flew out the door when I came in."

Lily stood and walked over, guiltily taking him from Sirius arms. She pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek, "Sorry, baby."

"Sorry," the infant repeated with a wide smile, before kissing her back on the cheek.

"What's all this mess?" Sirius maneuvered over the books and papers that were scattered about the floor.

Lily waved her wand and the books and papers gathered themselves into neat piles, "Just research."

Sirius glanced over at her and she saw a fleeting look of concern in his eyes before he turned his attention to the Prophet.

"Did you find anything?" he asked. It was asked out of politeness, she knew, rather than any real interest or expectation. Both of them entirely aware that Sirius had long since given up hope that they could ever get James back.

"Nothing yet," she replied, with forced optimism. She bounced Harry on her hip, earning a laugh from him before he asked her to be put down. She did as he asked before she sat down on the couch, heavily.

"Have you heard from Moony lately?" Sirius asked, looking at her curiously.

Lily nodded, "Yes, he comes over quite often."

Sirius frowned, "I haven't seen him in weeks."

"Well, you're usually working, aren't you?" Lily stated, "I've told you whenever he comes by."

"He's avoiding me."

Lily didn't answer. It was too obvious a fact for her to try and dismiss the statement. But she didn't want to get into another discussion about what had happened. About how things could have been done differently.

If they had just trusted Remus...

 _No._ She quickly nipped that train of thought in the bud. She wasn't going to waste time thinking about what they _should_ have done back then. All that matters now is what they could do _now_ to fix the mistakes they had made.

She had to look forward.

"I've applied for a place on the Healers training programme. It doesn't start until next year, but…"

Sirius lifted up Harry, who had come to him with open arms, and regarding her searchingly for a moment. She was, as always, immediately irritated and uncomfortable under his glare, feeling herself ready to snap at him. She knew what he was thinking; that she was wasting her time. Wasting her life away. But Lily didn't think that. She would never think that.

"Lily, those programmes take _years_ to complete," he began, "Three years training and even then you're not fully qualified –"

"It's what I want to do, Sirius," she interrupted him, her tone leaving no room for discussion; "It's what I _have_ to do."

Sirius kept his eyes focused on the floor for a few moments before he looked up at her, his eyes almost pleading with her.

"Lily, I miss him too," he said, sounding strangely vulnerable, "But...but he's gone. He's _gone,"_ he repeated, seeming to choke up as he did so; "He wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want you doing all of _this -_ " he indicated with a wave of his hand at the mess of the room.

"He wouldn't want me to give up on him –"

"He wouldn't even think of it like that, Lily," Sirius said, with a certainty that - almost -convinced her that it was true; "We were at war. We all knew what that meant. And he told me; he _told_ me that if this happened - if you lost him - he wanted you to move on."

"Stop," she snapped, her tempering flaring up quickly and then it was gone. She shook her head, "I know what I'm doing, Sirius. If he had...if he had _died_ then it would be different." She swallowed, before setting her jaw, "But he's _not_ dead."

Sirius held her look quietly for a moment before he turned regretful eyes down to his godson. She followed his look down to her son. Her little boy who would have to grow up without a father. She swallowed, the feeling almost painful as she did so.

 _No_. _Her son wouldn't grow up without a father_ , she vowed to herself. She would do everything in her power to bring him back.

And she _would_ get him back.


	2. September 1986: Events In Motion

_September 1986..._

An explosion erupted in the middle of the room.

Severus stormed over to the student's desk, his black robes billowing behind him in perfect reflection of his fury.

"Dearborn!" he snapped, furiously, as the terrified third year pushed himself up from the floor and cowered beneath the potion professor's glare; "Explain yourself."

"Uh...uh..." the boy stuttered. Growing visibly more petrified by the second, Severus noticed. He rolled his eyes and waved his wand, clearing the mess instantly, and turned his back, making his way to his desk.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff. And you shall write an essay outlining everything you did wrong to be completed by Friday."

He heard the boy heave an irritated sigh and turned dark eyes on him. The boy straightened and nodded immediately.

Severus held the boys look for a moment before glancing at the rest of the class, who were now all staring at him. He raised an eyebrow - " _Well_?" - and the class immediately resumed working on their potions.

Severus shook his head at the idiocy of his students and wondered, once again, why he had bothered to stay in the teaching profession. It had been five - rather pleasant, if he did say so himself - years since the Dark Lord had fallen and yet here he was. Still following Dumbledore's orders.

Was it gratitude that drove him to stay? Had that what it had been when he agreed to help Dumbledore protect Neville Longbottom? After all, he _had_ been grateful. In one fell swoop, the Dark Lord had been eradicated and the threat to Lily was gone. It had been all he could do not to throw himself at the old man in thankfulness and pledge his undying loyalty to him when he had learned his old master's fate.

But Dumbledore had been quick to put a damper on his rapture, warning him that the Dark Lord would return - _return? -_ Dumbledore had not elaborated on how that could be so. But he needn't have done so. Severus had his own suspicions, after all, and said suspicions had been confirmed over a year later during a conversation with Regulus, when he had revealed to him the true reasons why the old man had offered the youngest Black his public statement - a statement rather crucial in leading to the collapse of the trial against him - asserting Regulus' loyalty to the light. He had, in fact, gone to Dumbledore with information about the horcrux.

That horcrux had now been found and was currently locked up in some unknown location, for neither Regulus nor Dumbledore had been aware of how to destroy it. As far as Severus knew, the item could very well be within these very walls - it was the most likely scenario, that Dumbledore would opt to keep it close - and Severus almost shivered at the idea.

"Excuse me, Professor?" a young voice said tentatively at his side.

Severus glanced down at the young girl at his feet, "Miss Tonks?"

She held up the underside of her arm, revealing an ugly, blistering mark that was beginning to develop. He stared at it in horror for a moment before taking her arm gently; his tone, however, was not so gentle as he examined the injury; "How did this happen?"

"Uh...when the potion exploded, Sir," she stated, also straining to look at it.

"You should have told me immediately," he spoke in a clipped tone, "Dearborn, escort Miss Tonks to the infirmary and explain why she has been sent there."

He shot a disapproving look in the boy's direction, before addressing the rest of the class; "If there are any other injuries please report them now." He waited a moment and, when he received no response in the affirmative, waved a hand, "Carry on."

_Idiots!_

Children really did drive him nuts sometimes. At thirteen years old they should know that magical injuries, especially those involving unknown potions, ought to be checked out immediately.

And the last thing he needed was Andromeda Tonks breathing down his neck the next time they happened to run into one another - rather soon, if his schedule were accurate - and giving a scolding for not keeping an eye on her - self-admitted, incredibly clumsy - daughter.

A few moments later, the class was lining up to deliver samples of their potions and making their way from the classroom.

Severus eyed the vials unenthusiastically. It would be a _long_ night.

He already had a number of articles to get through concerning the Aurelius Foundation and, to top that off, the new project was due to start in little over a week. As yet, he had barely even had the time to read up on the necessary research for their first meeting. Although, from what he had heard from other members, the project was hardly ready to commence on its scheduled date. Eugene Hopkins - tardy as ever - hadn't even begun the process of selecting their Fellowship applicants yet. No doubt he'd be finding himself drawn in on that assignment rather soon.

Within the next forty eight hours, if past performance were any indication, Severus would quickly be bombarded with applications for the Advanced Healing Fellowship, with some excuse from Eugene as to the heaviness of his workload - _that damn boss of theirs, what a driver!_ \- and so would begin a frantic hunt for their next handful of fellows. He smirked, remembering Hopkin's tactic the previous year when they had embarked on the Libius Project - not wanting to impose on Severus again, when he'd already done so, so frequently that year - and the old Healer had simply picked up an application at random; going ahead, without even reading the essentials, and accepting the wizard.

He - they _all_ \- had certainly come to regret _that._

Frankly, Severus didn't see why they bothered taking on Fellows at all. Particularly when it came to projects such as this one, upcoming, which had a very delicate focus and would in no way be completed by the time the Fellowship came to an end. Severus was fully prepared to spend the next few years working on this one - a game changer, should they happen to get it right.

But then, if he were honest, he was fully prepared to _fail_ in this endeavour, as enthused as he may be about its implications. It was not, of course, _impossible_ ; but it was improbable enough, that his expectations were low.

The reversing of the damage inflected by the Cruciatus...well, that was something medical researchers had been trying - and failing - at searching for treatments on for years, decades now, without success. Even with the heightened interest in the field, following the war.

A few moments later, his thoughts were interrupted, as his Slytherin and Gryffindor NEWTs class began to pour their way into the room. With a resigned, silent sigh he pushed any thoughts of his extra-curricular ventures aside.

* * *

"Albus," Lily sighed in exasperation, "You must understand my reasons for asking this of you."

It had been almost a decade since she had left Hogwarts and, despite serving with him in the Order during the war, Lily still couldn't help but think of him as her wise old headmaster from school. Therefore, only on very rare occasions did she refer to him as anything other than 'Professor Dumbledore'. Though, at this particular moment, she was quite willing to throw aside all conduct of politeness and _beg_ the old man for his help.

Dumbledore regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before, once again, glancing over the papers she had given him at the beginning of their meeting, "Lily, you are...highly unqualified for this position."

"But with your endorsement –"

"Ah, but my endorsement would offer little help in this case," he interrupted, "For what do I know of such things?"

Lily glared at him, feeling her frustration peak, "You are one of the most highly regarded wizards of all time. I am sure your endorsement will mean _something_ to my application."

The old wizard regarded her almost with _amusement_ she noted, furiously.

" _You must understand the competitiveness of these programmes,"_ Dumbledore had stated at the beginning of their meeting.

She'd felt herself puff out indignantly. She certainly had the necessary _life_ experience, the determination and the motivation to be successful. And while, yes, she may be under qualified but it was not unheard of for witches and wizards to go straight from the Healing Apprenticeships onto Fellowship training. As unlikely as her acceptance may be, it was still worth applying - there was certainly nothing to _lose_ \- and with the endorsement of her former Headmaster, the chances of her actually being successful were that much higher.

"Albus, what harm could it possibly do to _you_ to consent to my request?"

"It is not harm to myself that concerns me," he replied, looking at her deeply.

She sighed, feeling the little energy she had had leave her. Must she always fight this battle alone? Did _no one_ understand why she needed to do this? She had already had countless arguments with Sirius and Remus regarding the Fellowship; neither of them happy with the idea and neither had offered her any support.

It wasn't, even, that she felt the same desperation she had felt five years before. Those darker times, when all she could think about was James and how to get him back and all that they had lost.

That desperation had left her when Harry, at the age of two, started asking her why she was never home. It wouldn't do that her son should lose them both. So, she had stopped her frantic searching. But she still lived in hope that her husband could, one day, come back to them. And this, here, was precisely one of the things she could do to help make that hope a reality. After all, it was necessary for her to complete an Internship before she would be fully certified as a Healer and, while a Fellowship was necessarily taken on afterwards, this would kill two birds with one stone. She'd become a Healer - the minor goal of her choice of career, she was willing to admit - and she would be doing so in a way that remained steadfast to the actual goal she'd set out with in mind, those years before; exhausting every possible avenue that just might reunite their family.

Maybe by the time the Fellowship ended, she and Harry just might have James back.

Lily sighed, "I'm tired, Dumbledore. I'm tired of fighting; not just for my husband, but against everyone who claims to care about me. You, Sirius, Remus," she shook her head, "If you truly cared, you'd be supporting me in this. Have a little understanding of _why_ I'm asking this of you, Sir," she glared at him in what she knew was a childlike manner, but she couldn't help it, "It's not as if I'm asking so great a favour, after all."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly and she caught the slight turn-up of his lip at her defiant attitude. After a moment of regarding her, during which time she was sure her vision blurred for a moment, he leaned back.

"Very well, Lily."

She straightened with a childish excitement, her eyes wide.

"I shall endorse your application," she made to thank him but he continued, "But I must warn you; do not become too eager. As I have said, my endorsement is not a guarantee that you will be accepted."

Lily rolled her eyes, her previous delight successfully diminished by the old man's pessimism; "Thank you, Professor."

While she _was_ thankful, she was also left with a feeling of profound irritation as she made her way back to the home she shared with Sirius and Harry that evening.

She really _was_ sick of fighting. She was tired of all the concerned looks, the frequent arguments she had to endure with her friends – and not just _her_ friends, but _James'_ friends too - they, of all people, should understand. And she was tired of Harry's questions, of his frequent referring to his father as if he were gone. Because Sirius had made sure that, even if she would never accept it, that her son would. And that had infuriated her when she found out.

 _It's not fair to give a little boy false hope,_ Sirius had growled at her during the argument that ensued. And argument that had been followed by another, just as passionate, when Remus told her that he believed the same thing. Though Remus, at least, had courtesy to mind his own business and, despite voicing his disapproval to her, did not go out of his way to inform her - _her_ \- son that he would probably never have his father back.

The only thing that Lily could be grateful for was that Sirius had, apparently, began ensuring Harry was aware of it from a young age, young enough to not really understand what has godfather had been telling him. As such, the fact that his father wasn't involved in his life and was currently in St Mungo's became normality for him and she never really had to explain it to him. That she was grateful for; she supposed it was better that he not expect him to return and then be surprised, rather than constantly waiting until his father would walk through the door.

"Mum! Look!" her six year old spotted her immediately as she entered the house and proceeded to fly towards her on the new broom Sirius had bought for him.

She smiled as he jumped off and greeted her with a hug; "Where were you?"

"I was at Hogwarts."

His eyes brightened immediately, "That's the school I'll be going to, isn't it?"

"That's right," she nodded, as she removed her cloak; "Where's Uncle Sirius?"

"In the kitchen with Uncle Remus," Harry said, disinterestedly, as he climbed back onto his broom.

"With Remus?" she repeated in surprise.

"Yeah. They said it was _private -"_ Harry made a face "- But they're talking about you, anyway, so it won't matter if you go in," he added, innocently, as his broom lifted off the ground.

Lily rolled her eyes. It was fairly obvious what they were talking about then.

She walked into the kitchen without knocking, the two on the other side of the door immediately going silent - their guilty expressions evident - before breaking into forced smiles.

"Alright, Lily?" Sirius greeted her, "Didn't hear you come in."

Remus lifted a hand, his smile turning genuine, in acknowledgement; "Hi Lily."

"Hey, Remus," she smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he replied, quickly, with a glance in the direction of the window, before back at her, "How about you?"

Lily nodded, raising an arch eyebrow, "Also fine."

"How'd it go with Dumbledore?" Sirius got right to the point, not going for Remus' tactic of false pleasantries; "Did he agree to do it?"

Both he and Remus regarded her with undisguised curiosity.

"Yes, he did," was all she offered, walking over to the stove, "Would either of you like some tea?"

"No, thanks," Remus replied, politely, while Sirius glowered at him.

Lily set about preparing one for herself, though she really didn't fancy it anyway.

"Did he say anything else?" Remus asked, when Sirius raised his eyebrow at him - obviously enlisting Remus in his 'plight' this evening.

Lily sighed, "Such as?"

"Such as – _'why?'_ " Sirius said, leaning back in his chair, obviously too impatient with Remus' tact to allow it to go on.

Lily shook her head;

"No. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sirius, but he didn't."

"Lily –"

"Remus," she interrupted him and turned to face him, "I'm really _not_ in the mood. I'm not getting into this with you two tonight," she looked back and forth between them, "Did you really think ganging up on me like some sort of _intervention_ would stop me from doing this?"

"Lily," Remus leaned forward, speaking to her with rare insistence, "It's been five years. It's...it's time to move on. You've put your life on hold long enough."

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, "It's not like I'm not living, Remus. I have a son. I have friends. I've almost completed my training –"

"Yes, training which was taken on as a direct result of what happened to James," Remus rejoined, "With the intention of bringing him back –"

"It may have started that way, but I'm hardly indifferent to what I do," she reasoned; "I stopped only focusing on James' problem over a year ago. I _have_ moved on, as best I can. And it is not up to you - either of you - to decide which why I choose to live my _own_ life," she couldn't believe she was, yet again, defending herself to them; "And, considering the circumstances, it would be foolish of me _not_ to try and get a place on this Fellowship."

"Lily –"

"Sirius," she stopped him, "Please. Are you trying to tell me if you had the chance to...to find out something that could help him; to be involved in something that might possibly bring him back that you wouldn't take it?"

Sirius was silent and she knew she'd got to him. She glanced over at the other man;

"And you, Remus?"

"That's different," Sirius spoke up, "You make every decision based on what you _think_ James would want. You act like he's..."

"Like he's what?" she prompted, lowly.

"Like...like it's for sure that he's coming back," Sirius elaborated, "Look, I'm not saying that it's _impossible._ But..." he hesitated for a moment, "But you can't live every day expecting that, Lily. You can't."

Lily held his glare a moment but, knowing she didn't have the energy to get into a deeper argument just shook her head and turned away. She _had_ done her best to live her life; she still _enjoyed_ life.

Even then, she knew they were right - much as she would never admit it - deep down, she knew she couldn't make every decision based on what she thought James would want. But she couldn't help it. She had done it for so long. She had believed for so long that he would come back.

She didn't know how to deal with the alternative.

So, she carried on and she, quite simply, just refused to believe it.

* * *

Severus' suspicions had been proven right to an extent.

Eugene _hadn't_ selected his candidates for the Fellowship. However he had surprised him by not, yet, asking him to review the candidates for him. He was currently wandering the older wizard's office, awaiting some new articles that were necessary for them to study prior to the commencement of the project and - at this point - was becoming more than a little impatient. He glanced at the timepiece confirming that, yes, he had, indeed, been waiting for almost twenty minutes.

He had half a mind to just leave.

A moving photograph hung on the wall; a woman around his age with her arms around two young girls who smiled and waved at him. Severus almost rolled his eyes. His own office held no such objects; books and parchments and ink and quills. Work was no place for sentimentality.

He glanced at the applications for the Fellowship that lay on his desk and curiously picked them up, deciding to have a skim through the various potential colleagues he would be working with. Most of the ones he read over were older wizards who had long ago completed their Internships; only a few of them were young and newly qualified. Obviously entirely aware that experience, rather than qualifications, was just as important an aspect to the project - more so, even - and few of them would have had such at their age.

"My apologies, Severus!" Eugene said, as he walked into the room, looking over some papers. He separated them out and handed some to him, "Here are the articles we discussed."

Severus took them and looked over them briefly, while the older wizard glanced through the papers in his hands. After a moment Severus looked up as the other wizard scoffed and saw him role his eyes.

At Severus' questioning look he explained; "Fellowship application. Under qualified."

He rolled it up - in obvious dismissal - and walked around his desk.

"If they're under qualified, why accept the application at all?" Severus wondered aloud as he took a seat on the other side of the desk.

"Well, this application comes with the endorsement of Albus Dumbledore."

Severus' head snapped up at that. He frowned; "Dumbledore?"

"Another boss of yours, am I right?"

Severus nodded and indicated to the application; "May I?"

"Please yourself -" Eugene handed it over; "- of course, there's no way I can _accept_ her. She hasn't even completed her training!" he said in laughter, "I wonder at the old wizard accepting..."

Eugene's voice completely drowned out as Severus stared at the application before him. _Lily Potter's application._

_Lily!_

Severus couldn't believe the sight before him. Though, he supposed, it wasn't really a surprise that she would attempt to win a spot on the project. Considering her family's circumstances...

Severus shook distasteful thoughts of James Potter from his mind and continued to read over the application; the personal statement went into rather personal detail of her experiences dealing with the after effects of the Cruciatus, not only including the _s_ ituation with Potter, but also the shorter term effects she had experienced during the war. Severus almost rolled his eyes. How unprofessional to include such intimate details of her own life on the application. But Lily always was a sentimental fool who believed in other people's capacity for compassion.

He supposed she was as naive as always.

"I believe," Severus began, stopping Eugene mid-sentence, and without really thinking about what he was doing, "That this young lady could be a valuable addition to our team."

Eugene took a moment to comprehend what Severus has said and then frowned, "Indeed?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, before waving a hand over the application generally, "She certainly has experience dealing with the kinds of patients that we are going to encounter."

"But, Severus, she is under qualified!"

"As you have said, however I...once knew this witch," he stated, with as much detachment as he could possibly muster, "We attended Hogwarts together. She was a rather impressive student."

Eugene regarded him sceptically, "This project is hardly on par with a Hogwarts education."

"Yes, but I know her character," Severus said, more assertively this time, "She is very determined to succeed, which will be beneficial in this project. As well as that, there will be her added determination and enthusiasm due to her current circumstances," he waved his hand generally over the papers once again, "As outlined in her application."

Eugene was silent, at first continuing to regard him, and then seeming to stare at nothing for a moment.

He glanced back at him and then raised a hand to his chin, before he grinned, teasingly, "Could it be? Could it be that _Severus Snape_ is actually offering _his_ endorsement for this young lady?"

Severus, part of him saying he didn't know why he should agree and the other knowing without doubt, shrugged.

"I suppose one may see it that way."

Eugene's grin widened further. He took the application from Severus' hands and glanced over the application once again.

"Lily Potter," he said her name aloud, as if trying it out, before he glanced up at Severus, "You are certain about this? Our colleagues will not take kindly to me accepting yet _another_ dunderhead," he said, referring to his previous candidate.

Severus smirked slightly at the reminder before answering assuredly;

"I believe her to be a very capable candidate for the post."

Eugene glanced back down at the application for a moment, before saying thoughtfully.

"Well...I suppose I would be a fool to ignore the endorsements of both yourself _and_ Dumbledore..."

After a few seconds more of staring at the application Eugene gave a decisive nod and looked up; "Well, I suppose it's settled then. What's the worst that could happen?"

_What, indeed?_


	3. September 1986: Children and Fools

Harry Potter may be only six years old but he noticed _way_ more than his mum and his uncles him credit for.

He heard them all the time; his mum and his uncles arguing. And it was _always_ about the same thing.

James Potter. Or, well, his _dad_ according to them all. His dad that he'd never seen except in pictures.

And he could see it, every time his Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius were in the same room as one another, that something was wrong. Not to do with his dad, then, but just to do with _them._ As if they didn't really like each other much.

And he knew about his mum, too. That she was waiting for something - someone - always waiting, for his dad to come home.

They never really spoke about him - his dad - not to Harry, anyway. Just stories that Harry found difficult to separate from the fairy tales his mum would tell him at bedtime. His Uncle Sirius would say he was a brave man, that Harry was just like him - Harry wasn't sure what made _him_ so brave - and that James - his dad - loved him very much.

His mum just said that 'daddy' had to go away. And when he used to ask her more, press further and ask when he'd be coming back, she'd look at either one of his uncles or at the floor or at the door. Either way, she'd just look away, and he wouldn't get an answer. He didn't know what that meant. When Harry lied - not that he was _allowed_ to lie - he'd always look away. Otherwise people could tell right away what he was saying wasn't true.

So, did that mean his dad wasn't really going to come back? That his mum was lying - telling stories - because she didn't want him to cry?

Harry wouldn't cry. Not now. He'd heard all about it - the things that happened in the war - and he knew people sometimes would die. Some, even, just disappeared completely and no one ever knew where they went. And Harry eventually, for a long time, just guessed that was what had happened to his dad.

But the last time he saw Ron, he told him the truth. His dad was in St Mungo's because of what Death Eaters had done to him. When Harry asked how he knew, he told him that he heard his mum and dad talking about it and then his brother George had told him it was true.

Which made no sense. How could Ron know more about Harry's own dad, than he did?

"We did tell you the truth, Harry," his Uncle Sirius attempted to explain, as he sat down next to him on the couch, "We never lied to you."

"You said he had to go away," the six year old said, accusingly.

Sirius sighed and nodded, "That's right. He did."

"But he _didn't_ go away," Harry said, impatiently, becoming frustrated, "He's at St Mungo's. I'm not stupid, you know."

His uncle looked surprised for a moment before regarding him with a smile and he reached over to tousle his hair.

"No, you're not," he agreed, looking thoughtful, before he went on, "Harry, when we said your dad's gone...we meant that...what we meant is it's not _really_ your dad that's there."

Harry was confused.

"How could my dad be there but not really there?"

Sirius shifted and glanced at the door. Harry realised he was hoping that his mum would come home, then he wouldn't have to be the one to tell him.

_Fat chance._

His mum was much too busy to come home in the middle of the day.

"Harry, it's...you see how you and me talk," he began, "and how we play?"

"Yeah?"

"Well," Sirius' voice became softer, his hand on Harry's arm, "Well, your dad used to do all that. But...he can't anymore."

"How come?"

"Because...because he was hurt," Sirius said, before putting his arm around him and pulling Harry into a sort-of hug, "You said Ron told you that Death Eaters hurt him?"

Harry nodded and Sirius nodded as well, telling him it was true.

Harry frowned, still not really understanding.

"But, he's still _there_ isn't he? Just because he can't play, that doesn't mean he's gone."

He looked up at his Uncle Sirius curiously, who looked _very_ befuddled, now, as he tried to work out what to say; "Well...you see...Harry, he isn't the same man he was," he squeezed his shoulder, "It's...it's like there's no one really there," he stopped before looking at the boy, "It's like there's no one _inside_ anymore."

Harry's brow furrowed in continued confusion as he looked away, thoughtfully. A moment later he looked at Sirius questioningly.

"You mean, like his _soul_ is gone?"

Sirius looked stunned for a moment before he smiled softly and nodded, "Yes. That's...that's exactly what it is."

"And no one's really anything without a soul," Harry said, with innocent thoughtfulness, "Right?"

Sirius looked tongue-tied for a moment and then, when Harry looked closer, he realised - with a jolt - that his uncle was upset. Feeling guilty, he quickly wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist and gave him a tight hug.

"It's okay, Uncle Sirius. I understand."

Harry heard him laugh before he felt his uncle press a kiss to the top of his head.

"Better than I expected you to, I'll give you that. Just as smart as your dad was, you are."

Harry smiled back at him, only slightly this time. He looked down at the floor, becoming contemplative once again.

His godfather ruffled his hair again; "You alright?"

Harry didn't respond for a minute, before he looked up and spoke, uncertainly, "Ron says..." he hesitated, but Sirius' warm look gave him a boost in confidence. He smiled, slightly sheepishly.

"Ron says that...that _you_ are like my dad," he stated, "Because you live with me and mum," he continued, and then went on, "And because you come to all my school things, and, you know, because you help me when I need it. And, you and mum love each other, right?" he hesitated, noting his uncle's expression. He shied away, slightly, "You think I'm being silly."

Sirius smiled and shook his head, "No, I don't think you're being silly," he frowned a little, "I'm...I just think you might be a bit...confused."

Harry crossed his arms and glared at him.

"I'm not a baby," he snapped.

"Harry, I know that," Sirius laughed, softly, "But...the way me and your mum love each other is very different. It's not the same as the way your dad and her loved each other. And the way your dad loved _you_ , is different from the way _I_ love you."

"But...How? _Why_?" Harry hesitated, not really sure if what he was going to say would be taken well; "I love _you_ more than I love _him_..." he paused, "And...and I love Uncle Remus more than I love him, too. And mum's not here that much..." He looked at him, bewildered by his own feelings, "And Ron said that you're supposed to love your mum and dad more than anyone else!"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, before looking at his godson, his expression full of sympathy when he did.

"Harry, Ron's family life is very different from yours. And it's okay for you to have feelings that don't seem right to other people," he pressed a finger to the little boy's chest with a smile, "Don't let anyone tell you any different."

Harry looked down for a moment, before he looked up and regarded his godfather carefully. After a few seconds he smiled brightly, "Can you take me to that muggle carnival now? You promised you would."

Sirius looked surprised for a moment before he laughed and, releasing the boy from his embrace, gave him a gentle punch on the arm, "Sure. Go and get your muggle clothes on."

"Okay!" Harry called excitedly, as he hurried from the room.

Any questions he had about James Potter fully satisfied for the time being.

* * *

Sirius debated whether or not to tell Lily the full details of his discussion with Harry.

Of course he would have to tell her about his questions regarding James, and the answers he'd given to those questions. But, what Sirius _wasn't_ so sure about, was telling her that her son was beginning to become confused by the 'family dynamics', to put it simply. After all, Sirius was used to having them living with him - more than that, he _enjoyed_ having them live with him, particularly due to the bond he had been able to develop with Harry - and, really, the last thing he wanted was to scare the two of them off.

Not that it was likely, Sirius reasoned with himself, considering Lily's current circumstances. She needed him - much as she hated to admit it and he loved to gloat - there, to help out with Harry. Especially now that she'd decided to take on this ridiculous Fellowship that Sirius was _convinced_ was a complete waste of her time.

After leaving Hogwarts, James had been quick to move in with Sirius and, not long after they joined the Order, Lily also moved in to theirs.

It wasn't all that much later - just before he and Lily married - that James had bought a larger house and asked Sirius to come along with them, keep the gang together.

Sirius wasn't sure how Lily had felt about that at the time - he could probably have a pretty accurate guess - but she had kept quiet any objections, at least when he was around. And he certainly wasn't going to let something like _marriage_ get in the way of his bond of brotherhood with James. So, with him he went. And, therefore - with the exception of when James and Lily went into hiding - Sirius had always been used to Lily living with him. A permanent fixture in his home and life - a sister - and he was pretty comfortable with how that all turned out.

After the events of 1981, she and Harry had come back. They hadn't even really discussed it. 

But Lily _had_ made it very evident to him that she appreciated him being there frequently during the first few months. She was often afraid - though she did her best to hide it - that Death Eaters were going to come back. Come after her and Harry again, as they had done with her and James immediately following the war. It was something they'd _all_ been worried about, back then, everyone who'd served in the Order. So, during those few months Remus had also stayed with them. Safety in numbers.

Over time Remus eventually moved back to his own place - not coming back on month after the full moon - and nothing else was said. Neither Lily nor Sirius had suggested he leave in the time that passed; nor had it even came up theoretically.

It was simply normality.

The only person who had ever questioned the living situation was, apparently, Harry. And Sirius - following their earlier conversation - was left wondering exactly how long his godson had been bothering himself with the thought. Not to mention the additional thoughts - the obvious turmoil - that Harry was putting himself through, trying to figure out his feelings for James.

Sirius sighed in resignation.

He _would_ have to tell Lily. Even if it did lead to her deciding it was time for him to leave them, if that was better for Harry...

He almost jumped - startled from his thoughts - when the door slammed closed behind him.

He looked over his shoulder, shooting a smile in greeting; "Hey, Lil'."

"Sirius!" Lily was positively _beaming_ as she hurried over to him - it'd been a long while since he'd seen _that_ smile - and she told went on; "Sirius, you'll never guess what happened."

Lily thrust out at envelope to him. Sirius regarded her carefully, completely taken aback by the unusual elation, before taking the envelope from her hands.

"What happened?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her, as he slowly opened the envelope.

"I was accepted," she said, her eyes and smile bright.

Sirius' brow furrowed slightly; _surely not..._

"To the Fellowship," she elaborated, and his hands froze, "For the Aurelius Foundation, you remember?"

_Of course I remember._

After all, it was something that stemmed from one of their most frequent, heated arguments; her fixation on finding a cure for James.

Sirius' brow furrowed once again. 

_How was this possible?_

He had looked into the project thoroughly once Lily had mentioned it to him and was _certain_ that she didn't qualify to be accepted. He had almost - in his worry - considered going to _Regulus -_ which would be stupid, for a whole number of reasons - and the fact his brother was far more likely to intervene and do the exact opposite of what he _asked -_ whatever that may be - was all that held him off from crawling to him. Again.

Sirius started when he noticed Lily looking at him expectantly and realised he'd been staring. _Dreaming_.

He cleared his throat and pulled out the letter that was in the envelope. He glanced down at it briefly, taking in what it said; which was simply that they were pleased to offer her a place on Project Dorado within the Aurelius Foundation, with preliminary training due to commence two weeks following.

Sirius shrugged slightly, conceding defeat, and attempted to find something _positive_ about this. He supposed her being accepted despite not being fully qualified was something that she should be proud of, something _he_ should congratulate her for and share her delight in. And he normally would...

The letter was suddenly snatched from his hands, startling him from his thoughts. He immediately noticed the hurt and annoyance on Lily's face and quickly recovered himself.

"That's great, Lily. Congratulations."

"You don't have to pretend to be pleased for me, Sirius," she said, shortly, making her way towards the kitchen, "I can already see what you're thinking."

Sirius got up and followed, "Just trying to be a friend, Lil'."

Lily glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"A friend would be pleased that I'd gotten a place on such a prestigious fellowship."

"Ah," he raised a finger, "But a _good_ friend would understand why this particular fellowship isn't in your best interests."

She rolled her eyes, "I assume Harry's asleep?"

"Yes," Sirius confirmed, "He tried to wait up."

She nodded, "It's good that he didn't, it's late."

"Yeah, it is," Sirius agreed, before going on as he remembered part of what his godson had said to him earlier; "You'll probably be out a lot later, a lot more than you already are, when you start this project."

"I suppose that's true," she agreed, beginning to pour herself a glass of milk, "But I can handle it."

"But can Harry?"

Lily's hand paused, her hand that held the milk carton suspended in mid-air for a moment. She turned dark eyes on him - a warning, really.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius hesitated, only slightly uncertain about what he was about to say.

"Just that Harry's been mentioning you being away a lot. He's starting to think it's normal that you're not home."

"Are you suggesting I'm not taking care of my son?" she asked, quickly, defensively.

"Well, who's the one here when he gets home from school?"

Lily's eyes flashed furiously. It was a familiar sight, really, so he wasn't too alarmed.

"Sirius, if this is one of your tactics to stop me from accepting this fellowship," she seethed, "Then you can just _stop_ right now."

"Look, it's not about the bloody fellowship, it's about Harry –"

"Well, if it _bothers_ you that much being here, I'm sure Remus would be more than happy to stay with him while I'm at work –"

"That's not what I meant!"

"No, really, Sirius," she stopped him, holding up a hand, "If my son is such a burden –"

"Don't give me that!" he spat, his temper successfully ignited by the accusation, "You know that's not what I meant. I'd never complain about taking care of him. It's just be nice if the kid knew that his own _mother_ cared about him just as much."

She held a finger to his face; "Don't you dare say that I'm not a good mother. _Everything_ I'm doing is for Harry," her eyes darkened, angrily; "He knows that."

Sirius was ready to state that her son _didn't_ know that, but he didn't really know himself what Harry knew. Yes, he knew he was confused, that he was curious, even concerned. But - as far as Sirius could remember - he had _never_ questioned his mother's love for him or even why his mother was never home.

Maybe he knew that Lily was trying to get his father back for him?

"Mum?"

They both turned at the small voice that sounded by the door.

Harry stood there, rubbing his eyes, sleepily.

He smiled at them, "You're home."

Sirius glanced over at Lily; notice the look she gave him, the guilty expression. She swallowed it away - the guilt - before she smiled brightly at her son and walked over to him, leaning down to give him a kiss and draw him into a hug.

"Hello, baby," she leaned back to look at him, "You should be asleep."

Harry shrugged, "I can't sleep."

They both knew it was a lie. They could tell from his disheveled appearance - those bleary eyes - that he had already been asleep, and had likely woken to the sounds of their argument.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Lily reached up, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Harry drew back bashfully with a smile.

"Do you want me to read you a story?" she asked him.

Harry's eyes widened before he nodded quickly; "Uh huh."

"Okay," Lily stood up; "Say goodnight to Uncle Sirius."

Harry hurried over to him, giving him a brief hug and fleeing from the room.

"Night, Uncle Sirius!" he called over his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Harry," he called back before his eyes met with Lily's.

The two of them held the look for a moment. Sirius wasn't really sure what _her_ look was meant to convey and before he had a chance to figure it, or to ask, she had turned and followed her son from the room.

* * *

"You're a right dunderhead."

Regulus Black, with his usual, irritating, twinkling eyes and teasing smirk, was regarding him over his pumpkin juice.

Severus couldn't, for the life of him, give a reason _why_ he had mentioned the fact that he had encouraged - and by doing so actually brought about - the employment of such an inappropriate candidate for the fellowship position.

Regulus had been baffled at what Severus had done, once the paperwork had crossed his desk, and remained confused during his entire explanation of the dilemma until he finally asked who the candidate in question was.

The look of realisation on Regulus' face when he told him – _Lily Potter –_ had horrified him.

Severus had never really considered how _transparent_ his feelings towards Lily had been to Regulus over the years. After all, after they had left Hogwarts he had barely, if ever, mentioned her. And he and Regulus had barely conversed, themselves, during their time at school but, he supposed, that his and Lily's friendship had been enough of a _scandal_ back then, that Regulus would have heard about it.

If Severus were honest with himself - if he had actually been paying attention to anything other than spying in those final months - he could easily concede that Regulus _had_ had an inkling of them, at least ever since the Dark Lord had announced his intentions to hunt the Potter family. Severus had been beyond frantic and Regulus, while never actually making any frank statements regarding Lily, had often dropped hints that he knew of Severus' feelings and his change of loyalties.

Thinking back now, he supposed it was rather suspicious that Regulus had never actually pushed him for his reasons for turning to Dumbledore. Neither of them had known for sure that the other had turned during the war - neither would have the other be complicit in their defection - and it wasn't until after the Dark Lord had fallen and Dumbledore had vouched on both of their behalf that each of them discovered the other's change in loyalties.

Severus had been swiftly exonerated, his own role far more willing to be exposed; a spy, who'd turned and provided critical information in those final days.

Not so in Regulus' case - the secret of the horcrux to remain as such, though Severus did not know of that at the time - and so, Regulus had gone to trial. It was a case that had collapsed within days - no one willing to come forward - and Dumbledore's character testimony ended up being entirely unnecessary in the first place.

"Wipe that stupid smirk off your face," Severus snapped, rolling his eyes, feeling increasingly irritated. What he had told him was not amusing in the least!

"Or what, you'll take ten points off Slytherin?" Regulus chuckled, eyeing him with undisguised amusement, "You don't scare me, Severus. I'm not one of your students."

Severus glared at him, before responding with a completely off-topic statement; "My students aren't afraid of me."

Regulus snorted, "That's not what Andromeda says; little Dora's petrified of you."

_Tonks was afraid of him? Why, the little...he had never said a bad word to her in her life!_

"Well it would do her well to develop a thicker skin," Severus said, tersely, "I treat all my students equally."

"Hence, they are _all_ afraid of you."

Severus didn't really want to think about that.

He had done his best with the students entrusted in his care. True, he was a little short with them at times but he was determined that they should learn. How else would they be able to protect themselves when the Dark Lord returned? What good would it do them if he were to pat their backs and wipes their noses. They needed to be pushed and to learn how to take care of themselves. Coddling children, particularly at such a fragile age, would do nothing to help them in the future, other than turn them into incompetent _pansies_ completely incapable of defending themselves or making any useful contribution to the war effort.

Besides, there were far more pressing things on his mind.

Lily Evans.

 _Lily Potter_ , he reminded himself. The name, not even spoken, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He still found it as difficult to comprehend now, as he did the day he'd seen them together for the first time, all those years before at Hogwarts. That someone as intelligent, as beautiful, as _wonderful_ as Lily Evans should be drawn in by the likes of James Potter was so baffling, so absurd to him that he could not quite believe that it was _reality_ when he did.

Severus rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Thinking about Lily and Potter made him feel like he was back at school again, he mused, as he was once again filled with the same bitterness he had felt while at Hogwarts. Days long ago passed - no longer thought of by him - for such thoughts would do no good to him now.

What happened in the past was irrelevant...to an extent, anyway.

And, obviously, Potter wasn't someone he was willing to concern himself with. Never would again, as far as he was concerned.

But, now, thoughts of Lily filled his mind - and had done for the past two weeks - so much so, that he could have been a silly teenage boy again.

A fool.

A dunderhead, as Regulus called him.

The introductory meeting for Project Dorado was in a couple of days and he had found himself becoming increasingly _nervous_ at the idea of coming face to face with her once again. Severus did not get nervous. Not anymore. Certainly, he should not do so.

He and Lily had occasionally passed one another since the war ended; once during a Hogsmeade festival, twice in Diagon Alley. Both times they hadn't acknowledged one another. He had seen her, had wanted - but didn't - to greet her, and he had noticed Lily glance at him out the corner of her eye.

But they had never spoken.

And that's what weighed most on his mind.

What would he say, when they were forced by circumstance - of this project, a situation of his own making - to actually converse with one another.

What did they have to say to one another, really?

_How's life?_

Lily's life, he was aware, was not one of joy. A truth he was able to draw from the simple fact that she had bothered to apply for this fellowship, at all, despite not being qualified for it, something he was certain was entirely due to the current situation with James Potter. He had heard about it. And clearly she still held out hope for his recovery; indeed, apparently, willing to do everything she could to aid it.

Severus wondered if she would have done the same for him if...

_Stop._

He would not allow himself to think of such trivial matters. Of _ridiculous_ fantasies. Of how things _might_ have been.

It was irrational and a complete waste of time. They were no longer children; they were adults. And soon to be work colleagues.

Severus was certain he had the maturity to conduct himself as such.

He had gotten himself into worse situations - no one could refute _that -_ and how irrational would it be if he were able to handle spying on one of the most powerful wizards of all time, for one of the _other_ most powerful wizards of all time, and not be able to handle being in the same room with Lily Potter?

Severus was only mildly comforted by the thought. He had a feeling - a dreadful on at that - that if just _thinking_ about Lily Potter could take him back to the time that he was that scared, insecure little boy...

Well, seeing her again, in the _flesh_ , may very well have the same affect.

Severus sighed in exasperation, that feeling of nervousness beginning to come over him once more at the thought.

He really couldn't predict how their first meeting would go.

Would it be hostile? Possibly.

Would it be awkward? _Most definitely_.

Friendly?

Severus scoffed at the last idea; of course it wouldn't be friendly. _Of that_ he was certain.

He rolled his eyes at himself, before they focused once again on Regulus; who was regarding him with that same sparkle in his eyes and that teasing, all-too-knowing grin.

Severus scowled at him.

And Regulus laughed.


	4. October 1986: Innocence

"When will you be home?"

Lily glanced over at her son, who was looking at her with inquisitive eyes, and paused as she made to put on her cloak.

She felt a stab of guilt at the expression on his face, one she had seen often – that innocently lost look in his eyes – but that she had often pushed to the back of her mind.

She wondered - scarred by the loss of his father - if he ever thought she wasn't going to come home?

Sirius had struck a nerve with her during their argument the fortnight before now.

Lily wasn't willing to admit it to _him_ , for obvious reasons, but she knew that Harry was beginning to question things.

She knew he wanted her home. That it hurt him when she wasn't there as much as Sirius was. But when she looked at her peers, almost all of them worked also. The few who didn’t, their husbands worked, and they stayed at home with their children.

Not an option in her case.

All of the money she and James had – money mostly inherited from his parents – she had spent on the various treatments that had been offered in the healers’ attempts to reverse James' injuries.

And when those didn’t work, she’d looked elsewhere.

So many different remedies and methods, medical and holistic. None of them worked. But they had taken up most of their savings and the meagre wage she’d received during her Healers apprenticeship wasn't doing much to replenish what had been futilely invested.

In fact, she should count herself lucky that she had even been accepted onto the Fellowship Programme, for the money, alone, for she was certainly not going to be turning to Sirius for financial help on top of everything else.

“Mum?"

She was brought out of her thoughts by Harry's voice. She looked at him, noticing his uncertainty as he repeated his question.

"When will you be home?"

Lily forced a smile, "I won't be too late tonight, Sweetheart. I think the first meeting will just be a few hours."

Harry looked unconvinced but smiled and nodded.

"Okay. Can I have a story before bed, this time?"

Lily frowned.

"You always get a story before bed."

"Not with you."

The little boy's tone was almost accusing. Lily wondered if she was imagining it. After all, she had been more on edge than usual the past week.

"Yes, of course you can have a story with me," she assured him, before finally pulling her cloak on, "Come here." He stepped towards her, obediently, and she drew him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "I love you, Sweetheart."

Harry wiggled out of her arms, smiling as he did so.

"Love you too, Mum."

"And be good for Uncle Remus today.”

He broke into a wider smile.

"He's taking me to Diagon Alley."

"I know, he told me," she tucked her wand into her sleeve, "I don't want to hear that you've been up to mischief."

"I don't think Uncle Remus would tell you, anyway," he stated, with unabashed honesty.

Lily laughed.

Knowing Remus, he probably wouldn't. Harry had him wrapped round his finger.

"Just be good," she gave him another kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you later tonight."

“Bye, Mum.”

A feeling of nervousness came over her, then, when she was finally out of the house and on her way there – to the Aurelius Foundation – where she was to spend the next two years of the Fellowship.

The organisation, itself, was an impressive one – spots on their programmes more than a little coveted – but Lily couldn’t put her nerves _entirely_ down to the fact she was about to step into a project in which she could, very well be, completely out of her depth.

She pushed aside that thought – the little whisper of doubt reminding her that she _hadn’t_ completed an Internship, while a number of other applicants surely must have – and, when she did, her nervousness quickly turned to the _other_ thing that had been on her mind.

Severus Snape.

A name, until very recently, she never expected she’d ever hear again.

He hadn’t much come to mind, not in the years since she’d left Hogwarts. And she’d done her best, even during those last couple of years at school, to just turn the other way when she heard anything that even mentioned him – usually indignant statements as to the group he ran with, in those final years – to the point that their friendship had simply become a memory.

But, apparently, their relationship – or, now, acquaintanceship – was to remain a memory no longer.

She’d known, even when she’d applied for the position on the Fellowship Programme, that Severus was one of the researchers – the senior researchers, in fact – named alongside the project she would be working on.

Lily had barely even given the name – the implications – a second thought. Nothing beyond the fact that the very field they were to be studying – Neurological Maladies due to Dark Magic – was precisely the magic that she needed to be looking at, to finding a cure for James.

And if that meant working with Severus Snape – if that meant going to his office and _begging_ him for a spot on his Fellowship programme – well, that was just something she was going to have to do.

Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that.

She had been accepted, entirely on her own merit – or Dumbledore’s testimony, she supposed – and, thus, spared the indignity of _actually_ having to beg Severus for anything. And, so, she could face him once more with her dignity intact – not to mention avoid having to endure what she was sure would be a rather awkward conversation as to the identity of her husband – but that in no way decreased her nerves.

Their final years at Hogwarts had been anything but friendly.

She could still remember the hostility that had suddenly presented itself from him, when she and James had finally gone public. Prior to that, he had simply ignored her.

But would he still be hostile now?

Would he even _care_ that she was on the project?

Perhaps he would. She was, after all, underqualified, and, if he were anything like she remembered from when she had known him, Severus always looked for the best results.

Sky-high expectations of his working partners when it came to the pursuit of knowledge – he always hated the fact that he even had to _have_ a potions partner – and to be _lumbered_ with some underqualified ex-best-friend with all the potential baggage that came with, well.

It probably wouldn't go down well with him.

Lily closed her eyes, willing herself to steel her nerves and just get on with this.

She had certainly faced far worse than Severus Snape’s ire, after all.

And, once she reached the end of the garden, she did as she must – steeled her nerves – and disapparated to the Foundation.

* * *

"Nervous?"

Regulus grinned at Severus, as he stormed around the house gathering his paperwork and necessities for the upcoming meeting.

Severus glared at him as irritated as he always was – especially today – at Regulus’ faux-ever-cheerful demeanour and carried on with his preparations for the introductory meeting, gathering up scrolls and lining them up in his briefcase.

Severus glanced up as he finished, eyes finding Regulus once more and, in the time it had taken him to carry out that single task, his friend was _away_ again.

Eyes gazing out the window, seeing nothing, with that familiar, distant expression.

For the first time that day, Severus' thoughts wandered away from concern about his first meeting with Lily in eight years, to concern for the man before him.

He couldn't deny that Regulus was good-humoured. That he was cheeky, cheerful and overly optimistic, to the point of extremely irritating.

Anyone who ever met him could tell you that.

Well. Without the extremely irritating part, that is, for people just seemed to enjoy the company of those who presented themselves in such a way. A fact that Regulus had utilised. Amplifying that particular side of himself in order to conceal the truth of what lay beneath. A side that, as far as he were aware, only Severus had ever seen. And even that had been entirely circumstantial.

Severus had not known Regulus well when he had first joined the ranks, pledging himself to the Dark Lord's cause.

Regulus had taken his place alongside him the year of his graduation – despite the fact he had been Marked a full year before Severus and left within the walls of Hogwarts with it – but Severus had known enough to be certain that this boy did not have what it took to be a Death Eater.

Even as a teenager, at Hogwarts, he was compassionate, entirely eagerly to please and without any hint of malice whatsoever.

Regulus Black may have carried the long-held pureblood prejudices that the family were known for. But it was not to the point that he wanted to _eradicate_ anyone who didn't meet the standards.

It wasn't until a few months after the war came to an end that Severus realised the true extent to which he had been affected.

Over the Christmas period of 1981, following the conclusion of Regulus' trial, Severus had spent the time staying with him at Grimmauld Place. He had heard – been woken, even – by the whimpers and cries and creaking of the bed frame in the dead of night in the other room. Plagued with nightmares that he’d awaken from, screaming.

Severus had been concerned for him then.

A concern that only increased _tenfold_ the following month when Regulus had come to him, January 1982, announcing his intention to begin a Foundation.

A Foundation created with the intention of supporting families who had been affected and were struggling to return to the normal lives following the war. From what Severus could remember, Regulus was willing to put every last penny he had inherited into the project.

Well. As the sole Black heir, that was rather a lot.

Severus had been aghast at the idea.

It was at this very time that said families were crying out for Regulus to be sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater.

It didn't matter that no one put forward evidence. Or that Dumbledore had vouched for him. Although, Severus supposed, that wasn't common knowledge.

Either way, despite being acquitted, Regulus was still targeted by those seeking justice. Even now, five years later, there were still people calling for his head.

And here Regulus was, willing to give up everything to _help_ them?

But his friend had been determined – he was not asking Severus’ _permission,_ after all – and when Severus had been unable to take a large role in the organisation due to his employment at Hogwarts – as well as his initial objections – Regulus had gone to his cousin, Andromeda Tonks, for assistance.

And, together, they made it.

The Aurelius Foundation was born.

And so, Regulus devoted his earnings, his career and his _life_ to serve those who had been broken, damaged and destroyed by the war.

Certainly, Regulus was cursed with the affliction of being far too generous, too compassionate, feeling the pain of others far to keenly but Severus knew the way of it.

It was none of those things that had driven Regulus to devote himself to this cause so emphatically.

No

Regulus Black was seeking absolution.

A knock at the door startled them both.

Regulus headed on by him to answer, while Severus flicked his wand, securing the briefcase, and followed him. If he didn't hurry, he would be late.

Severus was behind Regulus when the door was pulled open, revealing one of the people he most hated in the world.

"Black," Severus all but spat the name out.

Sirius Black's expression quickly changed to one of such disgust, it almost rivalled his own, as he realised who stood behind his younger brother.

"Snape."

The three of them stood silently, seeming suspended in time.

Severus glaring at Black. Black glaring back at him. Regulus between them both, looking confused.

"What are you doing here, Sirius?" Regulus' voice was surprising strong.

And incredibly hostile.

Far more so that it had been, the last time Black had turned up.

"I came to talk to my brother," Black stated, eyes finally leaving Severus' to look at Regulus, "Didn't know you'd have such unpleasant company."

Severus couldn't see Regulus' face, but he could tell from the slight diminish in his brother’s confidence that he wasn't regarding Black with any brotherly love.

"You're not welcome here," Regulus said, bluntly, before attempting to close the door.

"Wow, hey! Wait a minute!" Black laughed, nervously, without humour, quickly slamming an arm against the door to keep it open; "Come on, Reg, I just want to talk –"

"I don't believe your brother feels like talking –"

"Mind your own business, Snivellus!"

"Oh, fuck off, Sirius!" Regulus snapped, "Whatever you have to say I don't want to hear it."

"Prefer Death Eater company do you?"

Severus noticed Regulus flinch, almost imperceptibly, and, with a sudden protectiveness that almost overwhelmed him, he drew his wand and shoved it in Black's face.

"Get out of here, Black."

Severus' voice was low.

He noticed that Black had also drawn his wand and that Regulus had then drawn his in response.

They stood like that a moment.

Black’s eyes were on Severus, filled with so much loathing that he would have looked away had he not felt the exact same way towards him.

Black’s eyes shifted to Regulus – his expression softening, when it did – before he took a step back, stowing away his wand.

He held up his hands, as if in defeat, as he walked away, backwards.

"I just wanted to talk, Reg."

When Regulus said nothing to call him back, Black turned and headed back up the pavement.

Severus and Regulus watched him until he left the garden before the latter shut the door. Regulus' eyes lingered upon it, with a look that belied a mix of bewilderment and - Severus noticed - regret.

Severus cleared his throat, causing Regulus to look over at him, and he raised an eyebrow when the grey eyes met his.

Regulus waved a dismissive hand.

"Sirius is a dick. Don't let him get to you."

Regulus walked away.

Severus watched after him in disbelief.

Get to _him? For Merlin's sake, this isn't Hogwarts!_ He found his mind snapping back. He liked to think he had matured _somewhat_ since they'd been at school.

But he reigned himself in because, concerned as he was about Regulus, he really _was_ going to be late.

"I shall stop by your office; keep you up to date with this Project Dorado meeting."

"Do me proud, Sev," Regulus grinned over his shoulder at him, "I only employ the best, you know."

Severus released a gasp of indignant laughter before heading out the house.

* * *

Severus was late.

Lily shifted awkwardly as she and the rest of the witches and wizards awaited his arrival. The head of the project, Healer Eugene Hopkins, had insisted that it was rare for Professor Snape – it sounded so unusual on her ears – to be late, to which most of the others in the room had nodded in agreement, before he said that they would give him a few minutes to allow him the chance to arrive.

Most of the people in the room were older witches and wizards.

Lily was seated next to the youngest looking in the room. She guessed from his lack of familiarity with the others – who were talking in hushed tones – that he was the other Fellow on the project. She cleared her throat before addressing him.

"Hey."

He looked over at her and smiled.

"Hello, Miss," he regarded her a moment and – when she didn't speak right away – he offered his hand, "Conan Chesney."

"Lily Potter," she smiled, shaking his hand. He seemed to recognise the name but didn't mention it. Instead, he stuck with common ground.

"You're on the Healer's Fellowship?"

She nodded the affirmative.

"Apothecary one, me,” Chesney told her, before nodding at the older man who was standing at the front of the room; “You'll be reporting to Hopkins then.”

Lily frowned, voicing the question that immediately came to mind; "Don't we all report to Hopkins?"

"Hopkins specialises in Healing; I've to report to Severus Snape."

Lily felt an odd twinge at the name and swallowed, forcing herself to remain neutral; "Oh."

"You ever heard of him?"

Lily hesitated and only nodded in response.

"Good friend of the Founder," Chesney went on, "That's how he got the position. From what I've read up about him, he hasn't even completed a Fellowship himself. Just walked into the job when Regulus Black opened it up," he shrugged, Lily noticed a slight bitter jealousy in his expression; "All about connections, I suppose."

Lily felt the strange urge to defend her old friend but only offered; "I believe Severus Snape is...quite renowned for being a gifted potions master."

Before anything more could be said, the door to the room opened abruptly and Severus himself strode into the room.

She noticed him glance in her direction for the briefest of seconds before he averted his eyes and nodded to the other witches and wizards present. They smiled and nodded with obvious familiarity. He apologised quietly to Hopkins as he walked by him, clearly meaning to just sit down as quickly as possible.

"No harm done, no harm done!" Hopkins waved a hand, dismissively, before grabbing Severus by the shoulder, preventing him from hurrying away.

He looked in Lily and Chesney's direction, raising his voice, further.

"As you may already know, this –“ he gave Severus a couple of slaps on the back, with a smile; “ – is Severus Snape, Deputy Head of the Research Department –" Lily noticed Severus was avoiding eye contact with her, and his usually pale cheeks were turning pink " – should you have any enquiries and I am unavailable, _this_ is the man to see."

"Thank you, Eugene," Severus said, looking mortified, as he pried himself free of the man.

Lily bit her bottom lip, looking down as she attempted to stifle a smile. She thought she saw him glance in her direction once again, but it was too quick for her to be sure, before he took a seat at the opposite side of the group.

She found herself looking at him, as he began riffling through papers and books, looking incredibly at ease and at home as he did so, now that he was sitting down and no longer the focus of the entire room.

A witch leaned over, speaking something close to his ear and he smiled, not widely, by any means, but it was a familiar smile. One of the genuine ones she hadn't seen in a very long time.

Severus said something in return, without looking up from his papers, and the witch and the wizard next to her both laughed in response.

Lily felt a smile tug at her lips.

He looked better than she had ever seen him. Better than she had ever imagined he would, she thought, as she remembered the awkward, insecure boy from her childhood.

"Well, let's get started, shall we!" Hopkins addressed the small group, drawing her attention away from her old friend.

 _Time to focus_ she told herself, turning her attention to the Healer who was speaking. However, she unconsciously glanced in Severus direction again, before smiling slightly to herself.

She hadn't even spoken to him yet but she had a feeling it wouldn't be as bad working with him as she had earlier feared.

* * *

"Do you love my mum?"

"What?" Remus blurted out, half said in laughter, half gasped in astonishment.

"Do you love my mum?" the little boy repeated, looking up at him innocently, the lower half of his face covered in the ice cream he was eating.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head, and handed the boy a handkerchief.

"No, I don't. Not the way you mean, anyway," he stated with amusement, wondering what on earth had possessed the boy to ask him such a question; "Why are you asking me that? Your Uncle Sirius put you up to it?"

"No," Harry frowned, his face the picture of seriousness, as he wiped his it clean, "I wanted you to marry her."

" _What?"_

This time Remus did laugh, however quickly corrected himself when he noticed Harry scowl at him, not happy that he was being laughed at.

Remus rubbed a hand over his mouth, smothering a smile, before he attempted to speak reasonably with him.

"Why would you want me to marry your mum, Harry?"

Remus led Harry over to the nearest bench with a hand on his back and the two of them sat down, Harry immediately turning to him with a face so serious that Remus felt his love for the boy swell in his stomach.

When Harry said nothing, just sat there, looking at him with a look of bewilderment Remus smiled warmly at him in encouragement.

"Harry?" he coaxed.

Harry sighed, dramatically, before he began.

“See, I tried to see if Uncle Sirius loved her first - not because I love him more than you!" he added, quickly, looking sheepish, "I just thought, well – since they live together, it would be easier if they just got married. Because then nothing would really change," he spoke very quickly, the way he always did when he was getting nervous.

Remus' brow furrowed slightly but he nodded, encouragingly; "That's very true...go on."

"Well, Uncle Sirius said he didn't love her that way either," Harry said, his tone and expression clearly showing his disappointment, before he went on, almost whining as he did so, "He just started talking about James – I mean, my dad – again."

Remus frowned at the obvious lack of affection the boy spoke about his father with, before pinching the boy's chin, wiggling it gently, inducing a smile.

"Harry, the reason Uncle Sirius started talking about your dad is because your mum is already married. To your dad."

Harry shook his head, stubbornly.

"No. That's not why, I didn't even get the chance to ask him to marry her."

Remus held back another smile, forcing himself to take the boy's concerns seriously.

Though, considering his rising concern, that wasn’t particularly difficult.

"Harry, why would you want your mother to marry one of us?" he asked, "You don't seem to have a preference – does that mean you're worried about your mum?"

Harry shrugged, "Sort of."

"Sort of?" Remus said gently, before he nudged the boy's arm, "You can tell me, you know."

"But...but I don't want you to tell Mum," Harry said looking up at him, searchingly, "Ron said she'd get really angry and if she gets angry with me she might stay away from home even longer."

Remus swallowed, this not being the first time Harry had mentioned Lily's frequent absence from the house.

"Okay," he nodded, willing to keep the information from her if it meant that he could find out what was wrong; "So. Tell me."

Harry swung his legs back at forward underneath the bench, slowly, watching them with a look of complete uncertainty before he finally started to explain.

"I...I don't want Mum to take me away from you and Uncle Sirius."

Remus was completely baffled by the statement; "Why do you think she would do that?"

“Because Ron said that it's not normal that Mum and Uncle Sirius live together without being married. He said it's like he's my dad. But because he's not _really_ my dad – and if Mum doesn’t love and want to marry him – that soon she’ll take me away and live just me and her," he shook his head, disapprovingly, "I don't want that."

"Harry, I'm sure that's not something you have to worry about," Remus said, reassuringly, "Your Mum knows how much you love Uncle Sirius."

"I...I asked Uncle Sirius about it. I told him that I love him more than..." Harry paused, looking a bit guilty and frightened of what he was about to say; "I told him that he was like my dad, and that I love him more than him – my real dad, I mean," he looked up at Remus, his eyes full of tears as he did so.

His voice trembled when he went on, "Ron said I shouldn't tell anyone but you promised you won't tell, right?"

Remus made to reassure him, but Harry went on regardless of the answer, clearly eager to say what he had to say.

"I don't think I love my dad at all!" Harry blurted out, before he sniffed and leaned into Remus; little muffled sobs beginning as his tears began to fall.

Remus held Harry to him, stunned at the declaration.

He waited a few moments, gently rubbing his back as he cuddled into him until he suddenly stopped, pulled himself back and swiped his arm across his face quickly. He looked hastily around the park, red with embarrassment.

"Is that what's upsetting you, Harry?"

Harry drew in a trembling breath, clearly embarrassed and trying to control himself.

"Mum's always away," he stated, bluntly; “She isn’t ever home with us.”

Remus hesitated, unsure how to respond. Harry looked up at him.

"Ron says that it's dad's fault," he went on, "He said if she had a husband, she wouldn't be out all the time."

Remus was completely staggered by the turn of the conversation.

He wondered what to address? His issues with James? Or his issues with Lily?

"If Dad _wasn't_ away, Mum would be home," Harry said, with certainty, "But he's not, so I don't get to see her. I hate him."

"Harry," Remus said, gently; "It's because of work that your mum's not home."

Harry shook his head, refusing to believe it.

"Your Mum has to work hard so she can look after you. It's not your Dad's fault."

Remus felt himself becoming angry. Sirius had often mentioned how Lily's absence had started to affect Harry, in his attempts to entreat Remus to intervene – for Lily was, generally, more willing to listen to him that she was to Sirius – but he was certain that Sirius, like himself, hadn't realised the extent to which it was troubling him.

Harry frowned, staring at the grass beneath his feet, appearing to be thinking over what he had said. After a few moments he drew in a trembling breath before he said, hopefully.

"Maybe if you and Mum get married, you'll start to love her. Like those _arranged_ marriages people do."

Remus looked at Harry, bewildered by his logic.

"Harry, _why_ do you want your mum to get married?"

Harry sighed, as if it was obvious, but appeared to decide to humour him; "Well, if she has a husband, then she will love him enough to stay at home more. And then I'll get to see her."

Remus stared at Harry with unhidden concern before he reached over and drew him into a hug.

Harry hugged him back tightly, while the words rankled in his mind.

Did that mean Harry was questioning how much Lily loved him? Was he saying that he didn't think she loved him enough to stay at home for _him?_

Remus drew in a deep breath, before he drew back from the hug.

Harry looked up at him hopefully and completely trustingly, as if he had all the answers to his problems.

Remus smiled down at him, his tone apologetic; "Harry, I...I don't think that would work," Remus felt his stomach drop along with the boy's hopeful expression and carried on, attempting to offer him what comfort he can.

"But Harry, you need to remember that your mum loves you very much, even if she works very hard," Harry lowered his eyes; "And your Dad loves you. And so do I and Uncle Sirius."

Harry kept his eyes down, his voice a whisper; “I love you too, Uncle Remus."

Remus smiled, "I know you do," he used a finger to tilt his chin up, so he was looking at him again.

"And don't you ever worry about your mum taking you away. Your mum won't do that. And I'm not going anywhere – I'll always be here for you. And so will Uncle Sirius," he leaned forward, "You believe me?"

Harry held his look for a moment before he gave him a small smile and nodded; "Uh huh."

Remus gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"If you keep getting upset about this, you tell me okay? Or if you don't want to tell me, then tell your Uncle Sirius."

Harry shied away at that, shaking his head firmly, "No. He would get really angry and then him and Mum would fight again."

 _Very true,_ Remus thought to himself.

Though it wasn't like he could keep what had transpired from Sirius. _Someone_ in that house had to know what was going on, to keep an eye on Harry and put a stop to these thoughts.

"You won't tell Mum what I said about my dad, will you?"

Harry's eyes were full of worry, as if he already regretted confessing. Remus swallowed and then smiled, shaking his head.

"No. I won't, don't worry."

Harry relaxed considerably before he smiled at him; a weight, apparently, lifted swiftly from his shoulders and promptly plummeted upon his uncle's.


	5. October 1986: Sins of the Father

The introductory presentation had gone on far longer than Lily had expected – with an absolute _mountain_ of background reading she was going to have to get a handle on when she wasn’t in the labs – and she had been quickly scribbling down notes throughout the entire meeting.

Her new acquaintance, Chesney, had barely taken any and – on the occasions she was able to actually lift her head from the parchment – she noticed him regarding her curiously as she made hers, before he finally joked that she must have a terrible memory, herself, to not remember most of it from her internship.

Lily had laughed – hoping didn’t come across as forced as it _felt –_ and inwardly mused to the fact that – if this was truly _internship_ level notes she was trying to get her head around, she was going to have to ask someone – Hopkins, she supposed – for some material she could read up on at home to get herself up to speed.

Lest she find herself under the ire of the entire _team_ , rather than just Severus’.

As soon as the presentation concluded, a number of house elves had hurried into the room and began placing coffee and tea, trays of cakes, biscuits and sandwiches on the long set table at the side of the room.

“Eat up, drink and be merry, all!” Eugene Hopkins said, as he flicked his wand and cleared up the presentation materials; “Take the time to get to know one another a little better; though I imagine you’ll all be sick of the sight of one another by the end of this one.”

There were laughs throughout the room – of those who were, evidently, already familiar with the man and the people around them – before they all got to their feet, doing as he suggested, and gathering around the table of refreshments.

Lily’s eyes found Severus, then – of their own accord – where he stood with the same witch and wizard whom he’d appeared to be bantering with earlier in the meeting – another woman joining them with a smile – and the four of them spoke amongst themselves, Severus entirely at ease in their company.

"I must say, it’ll be good to have you in on this with us, Severus," the older witch said to him, smiling warmly; “It’s been far too long since we were placed together.”

“Hopkins doesn’t want to take any chances –“ the wizard to Severus’ left piped up with a grin; “ – only the best of us on this one, right, Severus? About time you were dusted off and brought back in. All that time wasted at Hogwarts can’t be good for the mind.”

“On the contrary, the exercise in patience does it well,” Severus said, to chuckles from the other three; “Though the challenge in this one just might do it better.”

“Not to mention _revolutionary_ if we get it right!” the witch said, smilingly, with obvious enthusiasm for the project, her eyes glancing around the room and, when they did, they caught Lily’s eye where she was standing – foolishly – engaging with no one a few feet away.

The witch’s eyes lit up, greeting her immediately; “You must be Lily Potter.”

Lily noticed Severus' hand, which had been lifting a drink to his lips, freeze.

Lily quickly smiled in return, stepping forward; "Yes. Yes, Lily Potter," she held out a hand which she shook.

“Cornelia Heart. Your mentor, Mrs. Potter, forgive me for not seeking you out sooner,” she nodded at the witch and wizard to Severus’ left; “This is Alaric Waller and Rowan Ellison – both Healers, like yourself –“ Lily nodded at them, the two sharing smiles in turn, before Heart added; “ – and Severus Snape, you’ll remember from Healer Hopkin’s introduction.”

Severus glanced at her, politely, completely poker faced as he did so.

She shifted uncomfortably and forced a smile; "Yes, I...I am acquainted with...Professor Snape.”

The name sounded strange, foreign on her lips, and Lily noticed Severus’ expression twinge, ever so slightly, when she said it – going for formality – but he held her gaze.

Her smile faltered slightly, but she stepped forward, holding her hand out; "It's...it's a pleasure to see you again."

Lily could have sworn Severus’ eyes danced with amusement at her over-politeness but he decided to humour her and took her hand.

"Mrs Potter."

The formality of her name sounded even _worse_ coming from his lips, than his had done from hers – despite the fact that he spoke it with that same, familiar emotionless tone he’d always had as a child when he spoke with strangers – and Lily had a strange, sudden rush of discomfort – of guilt and shame – that made her shift where she stood, uncomfortably.

She shook away those feelings away. Why on earth should she be ashamed of her name, after all. She had been Potter for seven years.

Lily had looked away from him when he said it but looked back now, quickly noticing that Severus was regarding her curiously though he quickly snapped out of it when her eyes met his once more.

Severus cleared his throat, apparently the silence making him feel awkward enough to attempt to strike a conversation; "Congratulations...on completing your Apprenticeship."

She was a bit taken aback but smiled.

"Thank you. Professor."

"Severus," Cornelia Heart addressed him, drawing his eyes away from her, "I was under the impression that Mortimer would be working with us on this project?"

"Unfortunately, he could not be spared from Project Orion," Severus stated, suddenly appearing more comfortable. She noticed him glance at her briefly out the corner of his eye before he looked down into the liquid in his cup.

"That's a shame," she said, looking disappointed, "He's had a lot of experience in neurological damage."

"No doubt," Waller said quietly, with a small grin. She noticed Severus smile slightly, while Ellis chuckled. Heart shook her head, looking at them disapprovingly.

"You are all terrible. I think Mortimer is a lovely wizard."

"Don't doubt that either," Waller grinned further, looking at Severus knowingly. Lily noticed Severus hide a smile behind his cup, as Heart glowered and cursed at Waller.

"Ah, I see we're all getting along just fine, here," Hopkins appeared, almost making Lily jump out of her skin.

He smiled kindly at her, holding out his hand, "Pleased to meet you at last, Mrs Potter."

She noticed Severus make a sharp movement at her side but, by the time she had turned, he had reverted to his normal stoic stance.

"Well, I suppose we'll call this meeting to an end," Hopkins said more loudly, addressing the room, "And I'll see you all bright and early Monday morning. Please make sure you all have the necessary articles; they're at the front of the room if anyone didn't get them earlier."

The group began to disperse.

Lily found her eyes following Severus once again, as he strode confidently from the room, and she drew in a breath, attempting to still the unexpected wavering feeling in her stomach as she watched him leave; finding herself strangely unsatisfied by their exchange and wishing she had said more.

But what would she say, really?

At that moment Hopkins walked by her.

Lily quickly stepped forward; "Excuse me, Healer Hopkins."

He turned to her, smiling brightly, "Mrs Potter, can I help you?"

His smile was so genuine she couldn't help smiling brightly in response.

"Yes, I hope so. I was just wondering if you could advise me of any background textbooks that would be of use. I'd like to...freshen up my knowledge on the subject matter."

She noticed Hopkins smile falter slightly but only for a moment, before he nodded; "Why, yes of course –“ he began scribbling onto a piece of parchment; “ – I understand there are some things you will need to get acquainted with, having come straight from your apprenticeship."

She felt suddenly sheepish, before nodding and saying quickly.

"I'd also like to thank you for selecting me for the Fellowship. I am very grateful for the opportunity. I know there must have been...more experienced candidates."

She noticed Hopkins smile again, though he didn't look up from what he was writing.

"While that may be the case, I have been assured that _you_ are an excellent candidate yourself."

He put a full stop at the end of the last word with a bit more flare than necessary and held it out to her; "These should be all you require, initially. They are difficult to get your hands on, granted, but I do believe Severus has copies of each of them. You are acquainted with Professor Snape, I believe?"

Lily looked at him, a bit startled at the question, but nodded; "Yes."

"Well take this on over to him, he'll sort it out for you," he looked over his shoulder, out the door; "His office is down this corridor, first left and the third door on the right. I'm not sure if that's where he went – he rarely stays long – so you'd best go there directly."

She nodded; "Of course."

He tipped his head at her, before he began to leave; "Until next week, Mrs. Potter."

Lily gathered up her things, stashing away the articles she had been given, and clutched the parchment Hopkins had given her as she made her way from the room and followed the directions he had given before she could allow nerves to stop her. She paused at the door, which was closed, eyeing sign upon it:

Professor Severus Snape  
Deputy Head of Research

Lily couldn't hear any sounds that indicated he was inside.

She swallowed, drew in a deep breath and knocked firmly on the door. At that moment, she heard a chair scratch across the floor on the other side of the door:

"Enter."

Lily hesitated for a moment, her hand on the doorknob – pushing down the rise of unease she felt – and opened the door, heading into the room.

Severus was seated behind a large desk, appearing to be packing a briefcase prior to leaving, and his movements immediately halted when he noticed it was her who had come into the room.

"Mrs Potter."

She smiled, it felt incredibly forced and he didn't return it.

"I...I was hoping to read some background information on the project," she hesitated, while he kept his eyes on her. She looked down at the parchment; "Healer Hopkins said you may be able to...help?" her finally word sounded pathetic and she almost rolled her eyes at how silly she sounded, but forced herself to walk over to the desk and hold the parchment out to him.

"If...if it's not too much trouble, of course," she swallowed, meeting his look for a moment, before averting her eyes awkwardly, "I'd really appreciate it."

Severus was regarding her with the same puzzlement he had greeted her with when she walked through the door.

But, after a moment, he nodded; "Certainly."

Severus stepped out from behind his desk, making his way to one of the bookshelves in the room.

Lily looked around the office, feeling incredibly uncomfortable; "I...like what you've done with the place."

Severus, who was fingering through a few titles on the shelves turned to look at her, and she immediately noticed amusement in his eyes.

"Thank you," he turned back to the books; "Though I can't take credit for the decor. The office came as it is."

"I see."

"How did you find your Apprenticeship at St Mungo's?"

Lily was surprised at his interest.

"I enjoyed it very much."

"Did you find it challenging?"

She frowned.

"Well, yes, of course."

Severus had pulled three books from the shelf and walked by her brusquely to the one behind his desk.

"I hope not too challenging. This project will undoubtedly be far more so than you are accustomed to."

Lily prickled at the statement, "I think I can manage."

"Only time will tell," Severus said, as he pulled another book from the shelf, his tone conveying a distinct lack of confidence in her abilities and Lily fought the urge to retaliate as he turned and walked back over to her.

"Here are the books Hopkins recommended."

"Thank you," she took them, her tone conveying her indignation rather than any gratitude; "I’ll get them back to you as soon as possible."

"I am in no hurry to read them."

"Nevertheless, I won't have them long."

"As you wish."

For a moment they just stood there in awkward silence. She was certain he felt as uncomfortable as she.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" he enquired.

Lily shook her head, "No."

He was regarding her strangely, as if he wondered why she were there at all.

"No this is all –" she quickly stashed the books into her bag, " – thank you," she said again, feeling herself reddening at the repetition, before she turned and left the office hurriedly.

The door closed firmly behind her and she drew in a deep breath.

Well.

At least _that_ first meeting was over with, she thought to herself, giving herself a mental shake and wondering why she still felt hot with embarrassment at the awkwardness of the encounter, as she made her way home.

She did her best not to think about it. The awkwardness of the of them, particularly in comparison with the obvious ease, despite his distinctive quiet reserve, that Severus had displayed with everyone else – a far cry from the boy she’d known at school – as he had practically oozed self-assurance and confidence, each time Hopkins had called on him for a contribution throughout the meeting.

Lily pushed all thoughts of Severus to the back of her mind as she approached the house, eyes glancing at the timepiece, assuring herself – at only nine o’ clock – there was still plenty of time for that story she had promised Harry.

But when she walked into the house, she was surprised to find it completely silent.

Lily frowned – shrugged out of her cloak – however she only had to step a few feet forward before she saw Remus asleep on the coach.

A smile tugged at her lips as she stepped closer and saw Harry curled up next to him, head tucked into his arm, also asleep.

Lily used her wand and lifted the blanket that was folded on the chair and covered them with it, before she just stood there a moment, simply watching her son as he slept peacefully in the arms of his uncle.

She was so glad to have Remus and Sirius there for him.

So glad – that even with the loss of James – her son still had so much love in his life.

Lily made her way towards the stairs, the textbooks Severus had given her clutched in her hands, ready to get back to work.

* * *

Well.

That was awkward.

Severus’ eyes lingered upon the door to his office, once Lily had left the room, before he took a seat behind his desk. He was unable to keep his mind from wandering – from lingering upon her – even if he tried.

It was somewhat strange to him. To have an existing reason for thinking about her.

Since the Dark Lord had fallen five years previously, Severus had rarely allowed himself to dwell on it. On his once best friend – long ago lost to him – and all else that quickly stirred up when he did.

There were the lesser of the evils – if one could call them that, for they still brought a somewhat _bitter_ taste to his mouth – their severance, James Potter, the _Marauders._

And then, of course, came the rest. The worst of it. All that had happened next. The Dark Lord. The prophecy. The very fact that it was the threat to Lily, itself, that pulled him back.

Severus kept all of that under lock and key, buried deep down in his mind, so that even _he_ struggled to pull them back up again – much less a Legillimens – ever since the Dark Lord had fallen and Lily had been confirmed safe, at last, to him.

Indeed, Severus wasn’t ashamed to admit, that in the few months that followed the Dark Lord’s fall he had considered the possibility of renewing his acquaintance with her. Just to see that she was okay, he had told himself – had lied to himself, still a foolish boy – but he knew, even then, deep down, that he wanted more and that he would _always_ want more and that it was something she would never be able to give.

Lily had still been entirely devoted to Potter. Dumbledore had warned him of that – warned him off, Severus realised in hindsight.

Hopelessly devoted. Even now, it seemed.

And with the Dark Lord's fall and Lily's survival, Severus had a second chance.

And he had taken it.

He had said goodbye to his own foolish, hopeless dreams of Lily Evans and he had moved on.

Five years later, here he was.

Severus had everything he had ever wanted. Everything he had ever _dreamed_ of before he met Lily Evans.

He was respected, admired. He was _part_ of something – something big – that made a difference in the Wizarding World. Before her, that was all he had ever wanted. To rise.

But there was a part of himself – a part he couldn't help – that still kept a hold of her in his heart. He _had_ met her, after all, and he had _known_ her. As much as he tried to push it all down, he couldn’t ever forget.

He didn't think about her consciously, no. Nor did he dwell on what had passed. But he could never be with another woman the way he had always wanted with her.

There had been ladies in his life, of course. Brief, inconsequential – on _his_ side at least, he reminded himself with mild amusement and sheepishness – and it was only during times such as those, times when a woman had questioned his intentions, asked him those awkward questions about marriage, children, shared houses, shared lives, that he had found himself thinking about her.

That was what he had wanted. Severus _had_ loved her, and it was sure and true. He may have let go of Lily. He may have moved on – from the future he had envisioned with her – but with that he had let go of that dream. He had let go of hoping for a family.

The adjourning door to his office opened, suddenly – the one that led into Regulus’ – and Regulus, himself, stepped through, shooting him a grin.

“How’d it go?”

Severus put a hand on the scrolls of parchment – the minutes that had been made of the meeting – and pushed them Regulus’ way; “Everything of interest, you’ll find in here.”

“Oh, I doubt that, Sev,” Regulus' eyebrows wiggled – infuriatingly knowingly – as he headed over and snatched up the parchments. But he didn’t press, simply said; “I’ll see you back at the house?”

“Hogwarts tonight.”

Regulus simply gave a nod.

As Severus liked it.

He doubted he’d ever live with anyone other than the man before him.

Their arrangement was perfect.

If he wanted company, he would simply find himself in their shared residence, where Regulus would often be doing whatever he happened to be doing and, more often than not, he would then lose focus on whatever that happened to be and begin pestering and mocking him about whatever caught his fancy.

That was all the sociability Severus could particularly stand, as it was.

And if Severus _didn't_ want to deal with another's company – such as tonight – he would simply remain in his chambers at Hogwarts.

There would be no heckling or hurt feelings; Regulus accepted it without question.

“Perhaps there’s somewhere else you’d rather be, tonight?” Severus suggested, leaning back as he eyed Regulus where he stood, looking through the notes he’d given him; “With _someone_ even?”

Regulus’ eyes stilled over the words he was reading. But he didn’t look up. The stilling of his eyes for that brief moment the only indication that he’d even heard.

And then he cleared his throat, before saying – “ _Night, Severus_ ,” – and he headed from the room.

It was easy with Regulus.

In fact, Regulus had surprised him with how easy friendship could be.

He had never had that. Not with Lily, nor with his housemates while he was at Hogwarts.

They had, before, Severus supposed. They had spoken about anything and everything before they went to that school; had never feared offending the other, had even teased one another, as children always did.

But as soon as Lily had learned the prejudices she would soon face, her carefree attitude had changed. She could interpret the most innocent little thing as something entirely different and then blow the whole thing out of proportion.

Lily was quite the drama queen, he remembered, overreacting at everything.

Not to mention, incredibly defensive.

Lily would attack before she could be attacked and, he supposed, that's what made his slip that final time so horrifying. She hadn't seen it coming. But she had hit back just as hard as he would have expected from her; more so, as it happened.

But she had been steadfast in her friendship with him, until that point, and had been the only person who had ever really cared about him in those difficult years.

Lily was his first. The first person who had ever made him feel like he was worth anything.

Severus rolled his eyes at his thoughts.

Getting sentimental, Severus?

Wasting your time pondering on things that no longer mattered.

Except that they did matter. Now they did; at least somewhat. She was back in his life and, even after their first meeting, their _reunion_ – from which he had simply been pleased to have emerged unscathed – he was still unsure as to how to approach her.

The unexpected encounter in his office – the awkwardness of _that,_ far worse than the initial meeting – was surely a glimpse of things to come. In his nervousness, his staring and insults – both entirely accidental – had obviously offended her.

Not that it mattered had she been offended, Severus scoffed at his own thoughts – for it's not as if Lily Potter held _him_ in any high regard – and, if she were anything like the girl had had once known, by accidentally doing so, he most likely would have ignited that fire within her that wouldn't rest until she had proven him wrong.

Which, in this case, he dearly hoped he would be.

The last thing he needed nor wanted was Hopkins on his back, asking him why on Earth he had advocated for her selection. And he could only imagine Regulus’ and Andromeda’s amusement – their joint teasing always particularly animated when they got together – when word got out.

The project – and, not to mention, _his_ reputation – were on the line, here, that’s what he told himself.

Severus attempted to convince himself that was all that concerned him.

That it wasn't, in any way, that distant look in her eyes when they’d finally seen one another again all these years later. Her indifference and her polite exterior, so entirely unlike the girl he had once known.

It didn't bother him, not at all, that she was back in his life, but not part of it.

It didn't bother him that the _reason_ she had come to him again had been because of _him._

For the first time in five years, Severus was unable to reason with his mind the way he had always been able to.

His mind _lingered_ all the same.

Entirely unable to convince himself with the thought that he didn't care. That it didn't matter.

It _did_ matter to him.

 _She_ still mattered to him, as much as that frustrated him.

He didn't _want_ that anymore.

He didn't want to care.

But it was _that_ that didn't matter. It didn't matter that he didn't want to care because he did. One night with Lily Potter – with barely a handful of words spoken between them – had been enough for him to see it.

To remind him of it all.

And so. Just like _that_ , Lily Potter had walked back into his life.

And – just as she had done when they were children – Severus was certain she was about to turn it upside down.

It infuriated him.

And it thrilled him.

Terrified him.

Elated him.

As always, there was no rationalising his feelings when it came to Lily Evans.

* * *

"I really don't think it's a good idea, Remus," Lily glanced through the doorway into the living room, where Harry still remained curled up asleep on the couch.

"Lily, please," his tone was almost pleading, surprising her with his intensity.

It wasn't often Remus offered his opinion on how she was raising Harry.

Lily quite decided she didn't like it at all.

"We have to let him see his dad. He needs to develop a bond –"

"A bond?" Lily interrupted, turning her attention from her sleeping son to the man before her, "What bond could he possibly develop with..." she hesitated, stumbling over the words. She drew in a deep breath, attempting to keep calm as she released it; "Remus, the three of us decided years ago that it was best Harry didn't see James in his condition. James wouldn't want that."

"James would want to see him," Remus countered, "You believe he's still in there, right? Well, let him hear his son's voice. If he can see him, let him see his son."

"Remus," she glared at him, "It's for _Harry's_ sake. James would know that it isn't in his best interests to see his father like that. It's better than he knows him from his memories and from what we tell him."

She noticed the bitterness in his expression, as he looked away from her. His eyes rested on the photograph on the wall. The one of she, James and Harry not long after he was born.

He shook his head, before he turned back to her.

"Lily..." he seemed to hesitate a moment before he went on, "I really think...I really think we need to do something; something that will help Harry establish a connection with James."

"He's his father, Remus," Lily walked by him, becoming frustrated, "He already has a connection to him. And I don't want my son upset – _traumatised_ even – by seeing him like that."

"Look, Lily, I really have to insist –"

"No, _I_ must insist," she snapped, turning to face him again, " _I_ must insist that you _stop_. Butt out, Remus. It's not your place to decide this. I'm his mother, this is my decision."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Sirius would agree –"

"I couldn't care less whether or not Sirius would agree! Sirius has no more right than you to make this decision. This decision that _I_ made five years ago; with both of your full support, I might add."

She noticed him look away from her, around the room, at the door, the cupboards, the table.

He was anxious, she could tell.

But about what?

What had brought on his sudden insistence that Harry be taken to see James?

Harry was only six years old and while Sirius – against her wishes – had attempted to explain the circumstances to him and appeared to have quelled his curiosity, to actually take him there, to have him stand before his father who he loved, and be met with no response…

No loving looks, no comforting words. Not even being able to feel his own father take his hand and ask him the simple questions, like how he was coming along with school…

To feel the devastation of loss…

Lily would not have it.

"I won't allow it," she spoke her thoughts aloud, drawing Remus' eyes back to hers; "Accept that, Remus."

"Fine." He picked up his jacket, walking by her; "Goodnight."

He stopped by the couch, leaning down to press a kiss to Harry's head before he headed out the door, without looking back.

Lily watched after him, a growing feeling of unease growing within her after he closed the door. She sighed and shook her head, stepping through to lean on the doorframe, looking down at her sleeping son.

The very same doubts that had plagued her – since she had made the decision five years before – returning to her. Whether or not she had chosen right, by keeping her son away. She had known – for certain – that James would not want Harry seeing him like that.

And she knew why.

James wouldn’t want the feelings evoked in Harry that _she_ felt, whenever she found herself at her husband’s bedside. The pain; the loss; the hopelessness.

It was almost enough to keep her away. Nevermind subject her little boy to it.

Lily walked over, lifting the blanket that covered him, and slid down onto the couch beside him. Harry stirred, looking up at her sleepily, murmuring her name as he did so. She shushed him and drew him into a hug. He smiled and snuggled into her, quickly drifting back off to sleep.

Her eyes landed on the articles and research books she had left on the table when she had come back down to the living room, having heard Remus stir, and her mind immediately went back to the person who’d given them to her.

Severus Snape.

And, when it did, she finally allowed herself to think about him. To _really_ think about him, in a way she hadn’t done in so long. Questions coming to mind that she _knew_ were none of her business – she’d long since given up any right to know anything about him – but they arose all the same.

Questions such as did he remember her or, rather, _them_ and how they used to be. And, if he did, did he do so with pleasure or with regret. She barely even knew how she’d answer that question herself, if he were to turn it around on her.

And then, of course, there were the _other_ questions. Questions she’d wondered, been asking, since long before their severance had even taken place.

When the war came upon them, on which side did Severus fall.

Which side did he stand with – if he stood with any, at all – but Lily didn’t allow herself to linger too much on that.

On a question she knew she would never have the answer to.

He had not been in the Order – obviously she’d known that – but everyone in the world did not divide into simply Order Member or Death Eater.

But wherever he stood, Lily knew that it had not been with her, and that was simply where it ended for them. it was none of her business what happened next.

Harry murmured against her, nuzzling in further, drawing her from her thoughts. She glanced down at him and smiled, softly. She noticed his eyes flicker slightly, before they opened fully. He looked up at her, sleepily.

Lily stroked her son’s, inducing a smile.

"Mum."

"Hello, sleepy head."

Harry's smile widened further, before he leaned back down, arm wrapping around her waist and cuddling in tight; "You said I could have a story tonight."

“So, you did. Do you want one now?"

He nodded, not lifting his head from her chest. Lily shifted slightly, getting more comfortable, and resolved to push thoughts of Severus to the back of her mind as she concentrated on her son; "What story would you like?"

"Anything,” he whispered.

Lily smiled and nodded.

"Okay. That calls for a fairytale, I think, so –" she flicked her wand, lighting the fire and dimming the lights, before she wiggled deeper into the cushions, " – let's get comfy."

Harry giggled and wiggled too, mimicking her movements.

And Lily touched her lips to his hair, before they huddled in close to one another by the firelight, and she told him a story from her own childhood – one of her own favourites – until her son’s eyes grew heavy once more and the two of them fell asleep together on the couch.

* * *

Regulus wasn't sure the last time he had be there.

Perhaps four weeks?

Maybe longer, if he were honest.

He had come by the week before but hadn't made himself known. One glance was usually all it took from those innocent blue eyes to send him reeling. He hadn’t been feeling particularly strong that day – though he never felt all that strong on days normally – and, he supposed, that was probably why he’d found himself on the corner, his eyes upon them, wishing he could simply just go to them.

But he hadn’t.

Regulus had turned – as he often did – and left before the little boy could see him.

Regulus could see him now, digging about in the mud with his spade, attempting to mimic his mother's movements.

She was there also – Evelyn – planting some bulbs in the garden.

He had been watching them unseen for the past half an hour, already, wondering which would be the first to drive him away this time; all-too-familiar guilt or cowardice.

Or perhaps _this_ day would be one of the days where neither of the two won out and, instead, he would go to them.

Regulus had set out determined – _determined_ – that today would be one of those days and so he mustered up all of his strength and pushed aside the branches of the bushes that were concealing him and made his way towards the cottage.

Neither of the two noticed his approach until he reached the gate – the sound of it screeching as he pushed it open attracted both their attention – and they raised their heads, turning in his direction.

Evelyn's curious expression changed quickly – barely offered him anything as he stepped into the garden – while the boy tilted his head to the side, regarding him for a moment as if he were a stranger, before his eyes widened in recognition.

"Dad!"

Malachi ran to him, his smile beaming, arms outstretched.

Regulus couldn't help smiling in response – at the unconditional adoration in his little boy’s eyes as he hurried to him – leaning down and lifting him into a hug as the five year old reached him.

"Hey, Beansprout," Regulus leaned back, still holding him, "Oh! Let me see you,” he pressed his forehead to his; “You _can't_ have grown again!"

"I have," his son announced proudly, looking over at his mum, "Mum measured me this morning!"

Malachi looked back at him with a frown, "You were away long again."

Regulus nodded, putting him down on the ground and ruffling his hair, "Yes I was. Working hard, just like your mum."

He looked over at Evelyn, who had now stood and was wiping the mud from her hands with a cloth. As if she sensed his eyes on her, she glanced over at him, barely meeting his eyes.

"It's chicken for supper," she lifted the spade she had been using from the ground, still not looking at him as she continued, "I know you're not keen on it, but I didn't know you'd be back tonight."

"Chicken's fine," he said, his tone apologetic.

"I started lessons last week, Dad," Regulus felt Malachi tug on his sleeve, drawing his attention; "Miss Quinn's been teaching me French. I can show you when we get inside," his grip on his sleeve tightened, pulling him in the direction of the cottage.

Regulus smiled at his son's excitement and looked over at Evelyn, who was following close behind, "I heard that there have been some problems at Quarifields."

"Nothing too unusual,” Evelyn said, distantly, still not warm, but not quite cold; “There’s been some problems with the quality of produce from some suppliers, but it doesn't concern my stock."

"Were you investigated?"

"Of course."

Regulus felt himself become irritated that her integrity had been called into question.

"You wouldn't face problems like that if you worked for the Foundation."

"Worked for you, you mean," her tone was clipped, "I'm happy where I am, thank you."

Regulus felt the grip his son had on his sleeve loosen slightly, as Malachi glanced uneasily between the two of them, quickly picking up on the tension in his mother's statement. He saw Evelyn smile reassuringly at him and it was only then that he felt Malachi's grip tighten once again.

Regulus felt a strange feeling of jealously rise within him at the boy's obvious favour of his mother's opinion and then shook it away.

Of course, Malachi felt closer to his mother. It's not as if you're a devoted father, he told himself, and he could almost hear Severus' voice in his ear telling him the same thing.

Regulus made to follow Evelyn as she went through the hallway into the kitchen but was stopped by his son's grip on him tightening.

"In here, Dad," he drew him into the living room.

He was grateful for his son's interference. He doubted Evelyn would come out and have a real confrontation with him about his absences, she rarely did that anymore, but from her earlier response to him he got the feeling that she was more irritable than usual for them.

"That's 'la fleur'," Malachi held a card up to him, with a large letter F and a picture of a flower beneath it. Regulus smiled and nodded that he was right – not that _he_ knew anything about speaking French - and his son smiled brighter and began going through the rest of his cards, waiting for his father's praise and approval after each one.

The two of them carried on that way until Evelyn called them through to dinner – which was quiet and quickly finished – before Malachi had dragged them back to the living room and demanded their attention for the next hour until Evelyn had shooed him off to bed.

Sometimes it was easy to lose himself in his son. To forget everything that had happened and everything he had done.

In those moments, Regulus could just be himself and watch him play – joining in and making his little boy squeal with laugher – and teach him new things without a second thought to the world just outside the window.

But it wasn't always like that.

In fact, it was rarely like that.

Most of the time he spent with his son, and with Evelyn, he couldn't help thinking about the war.

One minute he would be caught up teasing and tickling his son and the next his mind would wonder just how many father's he had killed. How many families had he torn apart? How many little boys had he robbed of these moments?

The same thoughts came to him when he was with Evelyn. How many widows had he made? How many lovers had he separated, only to be reunited again in death?

The guilt that came over him was unbearable at those moments.

Guilt was something that he could never escape. It hung over him, a shadow wherever he went. Whether he was at home or at the Foundation. When he was visiting his clients or with his cousins and their families. Even when he was with Severus.

It was always there.

But it was always _worse_ when he was with them: Evelyn and Malachi.

Evelyn never understood.

He had fallen in love with her during the war – _before_ he had went to Dumbledore – and he had been with her when he was at his worst. When he had been a Death Eater – utterly and completely. Like Lucius and Severus, she had seen him at his worst. He couldn't explain why he found it harder to be around her, than it was to be around the others. Perhaps it was because they had carried out the same deeds; that they were just as culpable as he.

When he was with Evelyn he felt ashamed.

Those feelings of remorse so strong it overwhelmed him.

But that wasn't all he felt when he was with her; he still wanted her. He loved her as much now as he did back then. And that's why he kept coming back, even though he sometimes – most of the time – couldn't _bear_ even to be near her. He had reasoned with himself, had promised himself in the past that he would let her go.

It wasn't fair to keep her when he couldn't commit to her.

And then Malachi had come along and the option of leaving her was gone.

Sometimes he wondered why Evelyn didn't leave _him_. She wouldn't have to leave. She would just have to move on. Find another. But she never did. She was always waiting. Waiting for something he didn't know if he'd ever be able to give her.

But Regulus never said that. And they never spoke about it. She was too scared of what he would say. He was too selfish to give her up.

He didn't want her to walk away.

Sometimes that fear of losing her was enough to override the remorse he felt over the war.

Regulus watched her as she moved around the kitchen, from where he sat at the table, putting away various items that had been brought out for dinner. She had warmed to him, slightly, as the evening progressed, offering him the occasional smile whenever Malachi did something particularly amusing.

She never held grudges. He always marvelled at how she could simply leave the past in the past and live for the day. She never cared about tomorrow, either.

Regulus swallowed and stood, stepping up behind her.

He noticed her tense slightly, but she continued folding the dish cloths without responding. Cautiously, he placed his hands on her sides and pressed a kiss to the back of her head, letting his lips linger there a moment as he breathed in the scent of her. She stilled; neither pushing him away nor encouraging him.

"I missed you," he murmured into her hair.

She didn't say anything; simply stood there as he leaned into her, as if contemplating carefully what to do next. There was no need. They both already knew. This was simply normality for them now.

A cycle.

He would leave. He would come back. He would spend time with Malachi. They would be left alone. He would go to her and she...

Evelyn turned – his hands remaining on her sides as she did – and faced him.

She had that same hurt look in her eyes she always did when he saw her. He saw the questions she would never ask. He saw the anger and the uncertainty. And he saw how much she loved him. She sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest, her invitation.

He slid his arms around her and pressed another kiss to her forehead, before reaching up to stroke her hair. He never really knew what to say at these times and, from her consistent silences, he assumed she felt the same. It was always easier in the morning. But then it wasn't. Because she knew he'd leave again soon and by that point the remorse that plagued him was already seeping back into his consciousness.

These moments were precious.

Those were his thoughts as Evelyn leaned up and claimed his lips with hers.

For now, he was forgiven.


	6. October 1986: Friends Like These

Lily was shattered by the time the research project actually commenced the following week – her nose stuck in textbooks and articles the whole weekend leading up to it, simply trying to master the basics of what she was going to need to know – and her exhaustion rendered her almost as useless as she had feared she would be in the first place.

The first day, at least, was not so challenging. She’d managed to muddle on through it, without seeming entirely incompetent – she hoped – and by the time it was over, she was certain she'd simply collapse the minute she got home and not wake again until she had to be back in the next morning.

An entirely appealing though, as she tiredly made her way down the corridor, preparing to head home.

"Mrs Potter!"

She stopped at the sound of the familiar voice and, with a confused frown, turned to see Severus was walking down the hall towards her.

She had barely seen him at all that day, the group quickly dispersing following the first discussion that morning, with Severus, along with the two Apothecaries in their team, leaving to carry out some experimental potions.

She was too exhausted to be nervous about his presence and offered a smile.

"Professor Snape."

He gave her a nod, looking only slightly less awkward that he had during their last encounter, under her smile.

"How did you find your first day?"

"Very interesting -" Lily raised a hand, concealing a yawn, " - Heart and Ellison seemed pleased enough with the results."

He glanced around, looking thoughtful before shifting slightly on the spot.

"I have some other articles."

She frowned slightly, so he went on; "They have more in depth information about the issues we'll be dealing with. I thought –" he looked uncertain, suddenly, and appeared to be avoiding looking directly at her "- perhaps they might be of interest."

The idea of reading yet more articles almost made her groan out loud but, surprised that he had went to the trouble, she nodded; "Yes - Yes, they would. Thank you."

His lip twitched in a very brief, almost imperceptible smile, before he nodded back down the hall; "They're in my office. Would you like them now?"

She nodded and followed as he led the way down the hall.

They walked along in silence until they reached his office and Lily stayed close to the door when they finally reached it. She glanced around again – more curious this time that she had been the first time she had been – noticing there was very little in the room in the form of personal items; only a photograph of Severus and Regulus on the desk gave indication as to the owner of the room.

She cleared her throat and attempted to clear her mind of the haziness that sleep-deprivation had rewarded her; "How did the experiments go?"

Severus, who was rummaging through piles of paper and parchment, didn't look up when he answered.

"Dead ends. The second experiment we discussed – using grippers root – appeared to be successful; however it would be too dangerous when mixed with flossbery."

"If it were too dangerous why consider it?" she asked with a frown.

"Butterman – have you met Felix Butterman?" he looked up suddenly, and she found herself startled to suddenly be looking straight into his eyes and averted hers quickly, " – the Herbologist assigned to this project," he elaborated, drawing her eyes back to his.

She nodded, remembering the old man from the introductory meeting; " – well, he never informed us of the danger until after we had already carried out the experiment," he stated, before turning his attention back to the papers he had been looking through, "We can only be grateful he had decided to tell us then, rather than waiting until after we had already added the second ingredient."

"I see," she stepped forward. She glanced around the room again, unsuccessfully trying to find some conversation topics; "Have you worked here long?"

"Since the organisation was founded. I was not as involved in earlier years as I am now. It expanded rapidly as awareness grew."

Lily nodded, having read about it in preparation for her interview. The background to the organisation.

"I've heard that there's a lot of interest in the Foundation," she drew on her previous knowledge, "And that it's never short of willing investors."

Severus hesitated a moment and nodded.

"Yes. However, investments are rarely accepted. Donations are always welcome though they are not relied on for the organisation's survival," he glanced at her, "I assume you are aware of the identity of the founder?"

Lily only nodded in response, his question more of a statement than a question. Being the sole heir to the Black family fortune, Regulus Black was more than financially equipped to fund the foundation without any outside help.

"Were the textbooks helpful?" Severus was looking at her again.

She smiled, hoping to convey the gratitude that was lacking the previous week when he had given them to her; "Yes, very. Thank you."

His eyes remained on her for a moment, almost searchingly, before he looked back down at the papers he had gathered. He stepped around his desk, keeping his eyes on the articles as he approached.

"These really just expand on the information you would have gained in the textbooks; particularly regarding the effects and uses of perrilace vine and tarnweed," he handed the articles to her; "I believe we shall be investigating those further in the future, therefore it would be beneficial to familiarise yourself with them."

Lily leafed through the papers in her hand, briefly glancing over the information he had given her, before she gave him a tentative smile.

"Thank you. I - I really am grateful to you for looking these up for me."

She couldn't help wondering to herself why he was helping her. After all, they were hardly friends.

Severus looked almost embarrassed and waved a hand, dismissively, stepping back from her awkwardly.

"I came across them by chance," he was looking at her, but avoiding her eyes; "I assumed they would be of use," he appeared to be thinking carefully before he spoke; "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is aware of the necessary information for the project."

He seemed to have pleased himself with his conclusion and finally met her eyes.

She nodded, glancing back down at them, before back at him, "Well, all the same, I appreciate it."

Severus never reacted to her statement – in fact, it was as she hadn’t spoken at all – and the two of them immediately found themselves plunged into that same awkward silence that had come over them during their first meeting alone the previous week.

She hesitated a moment, wondering how to make her exit. She didn't want to repeat herself by thanking him again. And to simply turn and leave would hardly be appropriate...

"Well, if you don't mind," Severus turned and made his way to his desk, "I have some things to get through before returning to Hogwarts this evening."

Lily nodded, thankful for the dismissal.

"Of course, I won't take up anymore of your time."

He had taken a seat behind his desk but had his eyes on her.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she finally said, before she turned and made her way from the room.

She thought she heard his response – slightly softer in tone than before – so similar to the one she had often heard from him as a child, bidding her goodbye as she left and she felt a strange tug within her, as those old memories came back to her.

Memories of a girl and boy who had played and told stories to one another; who had shared their hopes and dreams and their fears; best friends who trusted one another explicitly.

It was hard to imagine that they two were once those children.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

* * *

Lily felt herself drifting as the words on the pages blurred before her.

She had managed to force herself to stay awake long enough to read the articles Severus had given to her the night before, if only to avoid any further awkwardness should she run into him again and he were to ask her what she thought.

Now, though, she was zonked.

At that moment the door to the house flung open and a figure bustled inside.

Lily snapped awake from her dozing – lifting her head to look upon the intruder – but relaxed, almost immediately, when her eyes fell upon the familiar face that unveiled itself from beneath their hood and leaned her head back against the cushions, eyes heavy and very nearly just drifting closed.

"Julia," Sirius greeted her first, as he stepped down the stairs.

"Black," Julia smiled at him, as she shrugged off her cloak, "How's house-husbanding treating you?"

"Watch it, Bradbury," Sirius reached out as if to grab at her, but Julia dodged out the way easily and threw herself onto the couch next to Lily.

"Where's our little man?"

"Bed."

"It's only half seven!"

"He's been struggling to stay awake since dinner."

"Shame, mind if I wake him up?"

"Yes."

"Come on, Lil', I haven't seen him in ages!" Julia nudged her in the ribs, "I'll read him back to sleep."

Sirius snorted, "You! You'll have him bouncing off the ceiling. Leave him be."

Julia glared playfully at him, as he headed through to the kitchen, before turning her attention back to Lily; "So how's Aurelius?"

Lily responded only with a look that conveyed a mixture of exhaustion, exasperation and uncertainty. The side of Julia's lip curled and she raised an eyebrow, nodding knowingly; "That bad, huh?"

Lily shook her head and leaned against her friend's shoulder; "I feel like a fish out of water."

Julia laughed and pushed her off her, Lily flopping back into a lounge on the cushions; "Come on, it can't be that bad. What are they like? Are they awful?"

"No, not at all," Lily wearily pushed herself up and turned to face her, crossing her legs; "They've all been great. I just...I'm just a bit overwhelmed, really," she waved at the papers, "There's so much stuff I skipped. I'm just trying to catch up on the essentials."

"Should've come onto the Internship programme with me," Julia leaned back.

"Any better over there?"

"Are you kidding, it's a total riot! Well, I think so anyway." Julia kicked off her shoes, before tucking her legs up underneath her; "Meredith's dropped out. Said she'll try her hand at reporting."

"I know, she told me."

"So, it's the work that's bothering you?"

"No. Just my lack of knowledge," Lily sighed, "But one of my co-workers gave me some articles to help me catch up."

"Well, at least they're helping you. Most would just leave you to it. Or call in someone else. Vultures, the people climbing up this ladder, Honey."

"I don't know why he's helping me," Lily voiced the thoughts she'd been keeping to herself, getting a frown, "He's someone I used to be friends with at school."

"Well, that’d be it then," Julia stated as if the answer was so obvious it needn't be thought about at all.

"Used to being the operative phrase. We parted badly. It's Severus Snape."

"Are you serious, the Potions Master?"

Lily looked at her sharply with a frown, "You know him?"

"I know of him," Julia elaborated, sitting up straighter, in obvious keen interest.

"He's Deputy Head of the department."

"Something juicer, please,” Julia winked; “What's he like?"

Lily hesitated, not really sure how to answer.

"Is he attractive?"

"What?"

"You know, I've heard he's the tall, dark, enigmatic type. Considered quite the catch."

"Severus?" Lily was stunned at his apparent desirability, "I...I’ve never really noticed."

"How could you not notice, you just said you were friends at Hogwarts."

"We were children, Jules," Lily rolled her eyes, "It was hardly something I thought about back then."

"Um, you met James at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Lily conceded, then explained, "Severus and I were younger. Nine."

"Oh. Well, that story’s been told a million times before. One day, you’re just the girl next door – next thing you know –" Julia wiggled her eyebrows, getting a grin.

"Severus was never concerned with things like that," Lily waved a hand, dismissively, "He always preferred books to girls."

"Well, from what I’ve heard, that approach worked out well enough for him. No shortage of female admirers now."

"Yes, I suppose."

Lily wasn't really interested in Severus' love life. She had always felt uncomfortable thinking about it when they were at Hogwarts and, apparently, that discomfort hadn't eased with the dissolve of their friendship.

Julia seemed to sense that and changed the direction of the conversation.

"Well, it's kind of him to help you. He probably sees that you're struggling."

"I hope not," Lily said, quickly.

The last thing she wanted was his help out of pity. Or because he thought of her as some incapable dunderhead.

She noticed Julia conceal a smirk; "Whatever the reason, you should be grateful. His name carries a lot of weight; people have been begging to be his apprentice for years. Obviously thinks you're worth the trouble."

"How do you know all this?" Lily was bewildered. Other than the fact that he was in a senior position within the Foundation, she hadn't heard so much as a whisper about him ever since they’d left school.

"How do you not know?" Julia retorted with a small laugh, giving her a nudge, "Far too busy with that head stuck in books and articles to know a celebrity when you meet one."

Lily ignored the jab at her efforts to find a cure for James.

"A celebrity?" Lily was sceptical, "Well I can assure you he doesn't think of himself as that."

"Modest too, eh? Perhaps you should introduce us," Julia jokingly ran a hand through her hair, "He may see potential in me also. I could use a good endorsement for my Fellowship when it rolls around."

Lily chuckled and shook her head.

"Is he attached?" Julia went on.

"I don't think so."

"You don't know?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, you've spent time with him, haven't you?"

"Hardly. You'd be more likely to know anyway. You already know a lot more about him than me."

"Well, you have the chance to get to know more about him."

Sirius came back into the room, immediately silencing any reply Lily might have made in response.

"What are you two gossiping about?"

"Severus Snape," Julia stated, before Lily had the chance to stop her.

"Snape?" Sirius' voice was filled with contempt.

"Know him too, I gather?" Julia looked amused at his response.

"Unfortunately."

"I can't believe I never knew you two know him."

"Knew," Lily corrected, "And Sirius is on even less friendly terms with him than I."

"What are you talking about Snape for?"

Lily saw flashes of the old Sirius she had known five years ago. The boy that had disappeared with his best friend.

"He's been helping Lily."

"You never told me that," Sirius looked at her sharply.

"Why would I?"

"Because...because it's Snape," Sirius ground out, as if that were a real answer, "Why is he helping you? What with?"

"With work."

"He's her boss."

"He's not my boss –"

"You work with Snape?" Sirius looked horrified.

Lily looked at him in irritation. His over protectiveness drove her nuts sometimes.

"Jealous, Sirius?" Julia spoke up, teasingly, without any idea of the reason behind Sirius' venomous tone; "Quite the accomplished wizard, you know."

"I know all about him," Sirius snapped, before turning his attention back to Lily; "How could you not tell me? You see him every day?"

"Give it a rest, Sirius," Lily sighed, exasperatedly.

"What, you don't think I ought to be concerned that you're associating with a Death Eater every day?"

"What?"

"For goodness sake, Sirius," Lily snapped, tempted to throw one of her books at him, "Stop making accusations. There's no proof of that."

"Aw, who are you kidding? It's the most obvious thing in the world."

"If that were so he would be in Azkaban."

"I knew this Fellowship was a bad idea, this is exactly –"

"Don't start with that," Lily's tone was firm, "It's none of your business where I work, Sirius. And who I work with is of no concern to you."

Sirius was silenced by her words but still looked livid.

Which was entirely expected and why Lily had kept it from him in the first place.

There was no love lost between those two, of course, after all that had happened at Hogwarts.

And the fact that Sirius’ attempts to reconnect with his brother were being continually rebuffed to this day – a connection Sirius had been almost desperate to re-establish following the war and Regulus’ acquittal – while Regulus and Severus’ close friendship was so well-known did nothing to diminish Sirius’ loathing.

Sirius, still visibly fuming, went upstairs without another word.

Julia looked at her curiously once he had gone.

"What's this about Severus Snape being a Death Eater?"

Lily looked skyward, preparing herself for a very long explanation of events she had no desire to relive.

* * *

Severus almost groaned as he read through the final first year potions essay he had left to grade. The child's logic was truly terrible. But, unfortunately, he had seen much worse throughout the course of his marking. He lifted his quill and wrote a large P in the top corner of the page.

The workload at the Foundation was taking a larger toll on him than he had expected. But he had been determined to complete his Hogwarts marking and he hoped to dig up some more useful articles to give to Lily the following day.

He was relieved that she had offered no resistance when he had produced the previous articles to her – he knew how she resented being told what to do – having been prepared to insist that she read them.

Maybe she had changed since he knew her?

Lily’s change in character didn't matter, so long as one of the things that remained was her determination. Severus had seen traces of that already and he was certain that the books she had borrowed had been beneficial. No one had questioned his endorsement of her so far, so his credibility was safe for now. But there was still so much she needed to know...

He would ensure she was made aware of all that. It was becoming difficult, trying to decipher from the little time he had with her what things he ought to be giving her to study. She had always been proud; therefore it was likely she had concealed a lot of what she needed further instruction in.

Severus shook his head. He had to stop thinking as if he knew her. Yes, many years ago he had known Lily Evans.

But Lily Potter was a stranger.

He would be a fool to think she hadn't changed.

Hadn't he changed since he last saw her?

Severus started when he heard the door slam but was unsurprised when Regulus walked into the room moments later.

Regulus, however, looked surprised to see him and stopped in the doorway, looking like a guilty Hogwarts student caught out after curfew.

Severus raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Two days? That's all you could spare them this month?"

Regulus averted his eyes, a look of shame passing fleeting over his features as he pulled of his cloak; "You're one to talk. Bet you haven't had your nose out of work the whole time I've been away."

"What can I say, work sustains me."

"Evie isn't interested in working for the Foundation."

"No surprise there." Severus put the essay he was holding on top of the others, before arranging the parchments into a pile. He was disappointed. Few managed to grow stock to the high standards that Evelyn did; "Perhaps if you offered to step down..."

"Very funny."

"I suppose she wishes to maintain some dignity," Severus leaned back; "After all, it can't be easy sitting around waiting until her lover decides it's time for his monthly sexual excursion."

"That's not how it is," Regulus' tone was sharp and Severus raised a hand in surrender.

Regulus kept his eyes on him for a moment and Severus could clearly see the guilt lying within their depths.

Good.

He may be like a brother to him, but that by no means meant he had to approve of what he was putting his family through. For their sake, if not for Regulus’ own, he ought to snap himself out of his pitiful quest for forgiveness.

Of all the Death Eaters that had served the Dark Lord, Regulus was by no means the worst.

"How's Project Dorado?" Regulus sat down on the couch, changing the subject, "I haven't had a chance to check in with Eugene."

"Nothing to report."

"And the Fellows? Do they please you?" Severus could see a glint of amusement in Regulus' eyes.

"I have no complaints."

"Ah," Regulus kept his eyes on his, looking at him curiously, that twinkle coming to his eye. Severus ignored him and lifted the pile of articles he had planned to look through for Lily.

"Then those fears of yours were proven unnecessary."

"I have ensured that she is aware of any necessary information."

Regulus chuckled.

“Did you give her a script?”

Severus shot him a look.

“Coaching her in the ways only the wise Professor Snape could possibly do?”

Severus didn't bite, just carried on with skimming the parchments he held, as if Regulus had never spoken.

“I think I’m finally getting it, Sev, why – after all these years – you have finally stuck that neck of yours out and offered your own endorsement,” Regulus eyed him with a wide grin, before he straightened, clearing his throat and adding in mock-seriousness; "Bear in mind, I'm not keen on my employees forming romances -" Severus looked at him sharply " - For a senior staff member and a Fellow, no less - it is entirely inappropriate."

"What?" Severus was both affronted and baffled, as Regulus erupted into snickers; “It is yourself, who is being entirely inappropriate, Regulus, and what is all of this –“

Severus indicated at the piles of letters that had been redirected from Aurelius that afternoon.

Regulus’ eyes lit up with recognition and he headed towards them, making to gather them up.

"Applications to look over."

"More applications?" Severus lowered the articles he was holding to regarding him incredulously; "Applications for what? Don't tell me you're taking on more underqualified –"

"For the Orion Sponsorship."

Severus rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the articles; "More wasted funds. People can't possibly still be applying. You should pull it."

Regulus indicated the pile, shooting him a look; "There's over three hundred applications here."

"There were thousands the first few years."

"Well, as you just pointed out, most people no longer need it."

"When did I point that out?" He was being deliberately difficult but he enjoyed winding him up.

"It was implied," Regulus suddenly took interested in the articles he was skimming through; "What are those?"

"What do they look like?” Severus rolled his eyes; “I'll give ten points to Slytherin if you get it right."

Regulus suddenly looked more interested.

"Deflecting. Must be interesting."

"It's background information for Dorado. Why the interest?"

"How could I not be interested, when all these defences have suddenly gone up. Why so shifty?"

Severus looked at him in irritation.

Perhaps this would be another night spent at Hogwarts.

"Will you be at the Foundation tomorrow?" Regulus said, as he leaned back.

"I'll be there after classes, no later than lunch."

"Good, I have a potential potions apprentice I wanted you to meet."

Severus looked at him exasperatedly, "And when am I to find the time train this apprentice, Regulus?"

"I don't want you to train him, just meet him. Perhaps give him some advice and recommendations on who to go to; endorse him."

"You know very well I do not offer endorsements."

"Well, I'm sure Mrs Potter would disagree with that –“ Regulus said, before he went on, quietly serious, then; "- It's Prewett's boy. Their family's been struggling, and he's just come of age."

Severus looked skywards but said nothing.

"I'll send him by at one thirty."

"As you wish."

Severus saw Regulus' triumphant smile as he stood and made his way over to a pile of parchment that sat on top of the cabinet.

There were papers, parchment and books lying everywhere in the house. Did the wretched house elf sit with his feet up all day while they were gone?

Kreacher.

Severus despised him and the feeling was mutual; he was a filthy half-blood, after all, as the elf frequently reminded him. He had wanted to toss him out, but Regulus had a strange attachment to him, so stayed he did.

Severus' brief burst of energy that had come when Regulus had entered was gone and he felt himself grow weary once again as he looked over the articles before him. He didn't want to risk giving her too many, that she’d end up growing as weary as he and just skim them without taking in any of the information.

Severus glanced at Regulus.

He would sure his friend would take great delight in teasing him mercilessly should Lily fail to live up to the picture he'd painted of her to Eugene. He wondered if the Healer would first speak with Severus if he were unsatisfied with her or if he would go straight to Regulus?

He pushed such thoughts away. It would do no good to waste time dwelling on such things. So long as he continued to guide her, there would be no need for concern.

* * *

Lily was close enough that Severus could touch her if he moved his hand a few inches.

It was horribly distracting.

Severus' brow furrowed, as he peered down at the parchment before him, attempting to concentrate on the notes he was making. Cornelia had been excused from work for the afternoon and Eugene had suggested that – as Mrs. Potter is so knowledgeable as to the potions ingredients Severus intended to use – Lily ought to assist him that afternoon with his potion experiments.

Alone.

Severus had almost rolled his eyes at the statement.

Of course, the articles he had given her would come back to haunt him.

Severus glanced at her out the corner of his eye. She didn't seem at all affected by the fact that they were working together in such close proximity and had been quiet throughout most of the time they had been there.

"I have a question about perrilace vine," Lily said suddenly, without looking at him.

Severus glanced at her. Her tone sounded so casual, so relaxed. As if there was nothing at all unusual about their situation.

Severus wondered if he could get her to look at him, perhaps gain a glimpse of what was going on in her mind. Maybe then he would know how he ought to deal with this; did she still think of him as an old friend, a friendship that had ended badly? Or had she simply swept that under the rug and no longer considered him as such; was he now just a co-worker who she worked with their history completely irrelevant.

Obviously, that would be entirely inappropriate. For him to actually use legillimency on Lily – one anyone, in fact - simply to stay his own nerves.

Lily seemed to sense his eyes on her – his silence stretching – and met his eyes.

He quickly snapped himself to his senses and turned his attention back to his parchment; "Did something in the article confuse you?"

"No," she was still looking at him.

He was suddenly very aware of his breathing and inwardly scolded himself. It would not do for him to revert back to his nervous teenage self. He was surely past such ridiculousness.

This was just Lily, a woman, like any other.

"I've come across it frequently in articles I've read," Lily went on, oblivious to his thoughts, "I’ve been keeping track of it, the past few years, what with…” Lily trailed off, glancing at him out the corner of her eye, and cleared her throat – her mind having obviously gone to Potter for a moment – before she went on.

“Dara Goodwin's research has already proven it wouldn't be possible to use when it comes to the cases we're dealing with."

"I was not aware you had researched it."

But, obviously, she had.

Determined as ever, the Lily he had known would have left no stone unturned, as she attempted to find a cure for her husband.

There was a surge of – irrational – bitterness at the thought – the word – husband.

Lily had turned back to the small cauldron that he had her watch over, earlier.

"The side effects almost completely outweigh any benefits that could be had,” she said, ignoring – or not even feeling – any awkwardness; “And – considering the properties within in – flossberry would be necessary to counteract those effects. Which opens up more problems; perrilace vine and flossberry together is fine, but there are few main ingredients that could be safely added without the final result becoming almost fatal to those who may consume it."

Severus watched her, feeling a strange sense of pride come over him.

He shook it away.

Why should he – of all people – feel proud of her? What right did he have?

"It seems the reading material I provided was unnecessary."

Lily looked at him quickly, "Oh. No, not at all –" she got a grin; “ – if anything, it was reassuring. To come across something I already knew – makes me feel a bit less like an amateur on this.”

Severus’ lips twitched, belying his amusement, and Lily got a little smile of her own, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the question.

"That wasn’t a question,” he finally said, when the silence stretched.

"Well – if you already know that the combination can't be used, why studying them at all?"

Severus lowered the quill he had been holding to the parchment, wiping the ink from his fingers on his robe, "Because it would be unwise to simply discard these two particular ingredients. The only two proven, thus far, to contain properties which stimulate the mind. Perrilace, in particular, needs to be considered further."

"But perrilace can't be used without flossberry."

"Yet."

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment, frowning slightly. She met his eyes and tilted her chin slightly, as she often did when she realised something; "So, that's what the Apothecaries are trying to do? Find a way to use perrilace vine?"

Severus lifted the vine that sat on the desk in front of him; "We believe perrilace vine is key to the final result. Flossberry must also be considered. As well as tarnweed. We start with those three; however, there is room for changes, should anything of them prove unsuitable. Right now, we are attempting to find another component which counters the side effects of perrilace."

"Have you tried pearlwood?"

"Of course."

Severus almost smiled at the disappointed look in her eyes as she glanced away.

She was far more knowledge about all of this than Severus had expected. And he wondered, then, if he had not given her enough credit when he had been worrying about endorsing her application.

Well, what did you expect? His mind mocked him; that she would still be that nine-year-old girl who looked to you for every answer?

Severus turned his attention back to his notes.

She may have been the one whose suggestion had been countered, but he was the one left feeling foolish.

Did he expect her to be completely incompetent? Did he truly believe that she would have applied to the Fellowship without any background knowledge?

He almost rolled his eyes. Was this whole charade – his whole charade – just an attempt to convince himself that she needed his help?

"I..." Lily was looking down at the potion that was brewing, attempting, unsuccessfully, to appear nonchalant, "I never heard much of you. After we left Hogwarts."

Severus tensed and deliberately picked up his quill, beginning to needlessly scribble down some notes – notes already made earlier in the day – onto the parchment.

"I heard little of you, also."

Lily was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating what to say next, continuing to keep up her pretense of indifference, "When did you decide to undergo a Potions Apprenticeship?"

"Seventh year."

He caught Lily's nod but continued to keep his eyes on his parchment, scribbling away.

"I didn't hear you were a Potions Master until after the war. I’d always expected to bump into you before that."

Severus hesitated a moment and, before he could help himself; "The first I heard of you following our graduation from Hogwarts was in an announcement. The Daily Prophet."

Your marriage to James Potter, the unspoken statement hung in the air.

Lily didn't respond at first, only kept her eyes on the potion bubbling before her.

She drew in a breath.

"Well, I didn't become involved in a profession until after the war. So, no other reason to hear anything of me," she glanced at him briefly, "We had very different social contacts, after all."

Severus hand stilled. There was a definite unspoken question hidden among that statement.

What business was it of hers what his contacts were?

He felt uneasy. He knew what she wanted to ask. He knew the question in her mind – no legillimency skills required – did he join them?

Had she been right about him?

Severus forced himself to continue writing. He would let her wonder. She didn't deserve to know, he tried to tell himself.

She had made her choice.

She didn't get to know what had happened after that.

His own mind – as ever – was his enemy when it came to Lily. There was always justification for her actions lurking there. His mind could always muster up some reason why he was the one being unreasonable.

Weren't there things she deserved to know? Perhaps not that he became a Death Eater, perhaps, but didn't she deserve to know who had placed the noose around her and her family's neck? He delivered the prophecy; didn't she deserve to know that?

Why did she need to know that? Something within him countered.

The prophecy hadn't mattered in the end.

The Dark Lord had chosen Neville Longbottom.

Even if he had used the Potters as a decoy, James Potter was not lost because of the prophecy.

Severus felt himself grow hot as his mind went back to those days.

"I never would have expected you to become a Professor."

Severus glanced at her quickly - at the unexpected familiarity in her tone – and, when he did, he found himself looking into the eyes of a girl from years ago. Eyes twinkling, teasingly, a slight smirk on her lips.

For a moment, he could forget that they hadn't spoken in ten years and that distance just fell away.

He smiled.

Lily's expression warmed for a moment in response but then she averted her eyes; "You've never been patient, after all. Especially when it came to those of lesser intelligence than yourself."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I was patient with you, was I not?"

Lily scoffed, shooting him a look of mock offence, before she said; “When we were children ourselves, perhaps. And don't think I didn't notice how your patience with me waned – to put it nicely – as time went on."

"I was never impatient. Besides, you rarely needed instruction from me once we got to Hogwarts."

"Not instructions, maybe, but I could see how frustrated you were during our study sessions. Especially in potions."

Severus turned his attention back to what he was writing – scribbling – needlessly, even if his lips twitched in amusement at her assessment – her remembrance – of his frustrations back then.

"So, teaching. Do you enjoy it?"

Severus didn’t look up.

"I feel that can be nothing other than a question meant to fool."

Lily grinned, "Is that my answer, then?"

"What do you think, Mrs Potter?" Severus lowered the parchments, looking at her fully, "Do I enjoy it?"

She frowned slightly, looking a bit unnerved under his full gaze, "I...uh," she glanced away, then back at him, "I wouldn’t know."

"You may not know, but you’d certainly have an opinion.”

You always do, the words went unspoken, and he held back his amusement as he remembered it: the righteous indignation of Lily Evans, from all those years ago.

Lily's eyes narrowed, seeming to notice, "Are you trying to fool me, Professor Snape?"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Would I dare?"

She held his look for a moment, looking bewildered, even if a smile played on her lips - she seemingly as unwilling to smile as he was – but her lips disobeyed and she did smile, before she quickly reached up, concealing it by rubbing her lips.

"You've changed," she said.

"Haven't you?"

"Not as much as you," she was looking at him searchingly and he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Severus looked away, then – wondering what the hell he was doing – and turned his attention back to his notes.

"We had best not waste time," he could hear the change in his tone, cooler and distant. He was relieved it did not give him away; "How is the potion?"

Lily glanced at it; "No change."

"It's about time we add the flossberry," he left her side and made his way to the other side of the room.

It was as if those few steps away from her had freed him from a spell.

His heart thudded faster in his chest and his hands felt damp, as he rubbed them on his robes. That the mere proximity of her and her teasing smiles made his body betray him and act as if he were a fifteen-year-old boy again was ridiculous. Sweaty palms, butterflies, silly smiles, teasing words.

Severus felt like laughing at himself.

What a fool he was.

He may be a fool, but he was sensible enough to realise the danger he was in.

He suddenly missed her.

For the first time in years, Severus felt that pang in his gut, that emptiness he had felt every night in the days that had followed her abandonment of him in fifth year, all through the summer and into their sixth, when he’d hoped, every day, that she might come and knock at his window.

Forgive him.

Severus shook his head slightly at his weakness.

Would she always be that to him? His weakness?

Severus was tired of it. He had fought it for so long. He had long since let go of those hopes. Foolish dreams and fantasies.

So, why did those old feelings still have such a hold?

He wondered if someone had slipped him a love potion at Hogwarts, smirking to himself at the idea.

No. He loved her before that.

Love.

The word mocked him. He didn't love her; the idea was absurd. He hadn't seen her in a decade.

No.

It wasn't love. It was something else. A hold she had over him, that was all.

He thought it was gone. He thought he had escaped it at last. Maybe he had. Maybe this was new.

That was in no way a comforting thought.

Every minute he spent with her was dangerous. Old feelings reawakened; old dreams remembered.

He should stay away from her.

But you won't.

His own mind was laughing at him. And it was right. He wouldn't.

No. Be honest.

Fine.

He couldn't.

* * *

Regulus had tossed the letter he had received onto the fire, burning it instantly, before he left for the orphanage. The last thing he wanted was for Severus to get his hands on it and go off on a murderous rampage.

Hate letters were nothing new to him. They were simply a frequent reminder that people other than himself still remembered what he had done during the war. He knew what people thought. That what he was doing with the Foundation would never make up for what he had taken from them.

He knew that.

He knew what he had done was unforgivable.

Severus had warned them off him immediately.

He had been furious and had made it known that if anyone were to follow through on their threats, that he would personally see to it that they were punished for it. That was how their friendship had become so well known. Severus was already highly regarded at this point. Considered to be highly capable and intelligent, well known for the number of useful spells he had created.

Regulus wondered if it was simply Severus’ protection that had kept any threats from being carried out.

Severus may be respected and admired but no one was willing to see what he was capable of if he were pushed.

Regulus, however, knew very well what he was capable of, so he had resorted to concealing the letters whenever he could. He wasn't willing to drag Severus down with him.

"Mr Black," Arabella Applepot smiled at him warmly as he stepped into the orphanage.

Of course, it was not only letters of hate he received, he reminded himself at the warm welcome. In fact, the vast majority of mail he received was full of thanks, admiration, requests.

That was what kept him going; knowing that some people did appreciate what he was doing. Knowing that there were people who needed the Foundation.

He smiled - "Arabella," - and shook her hand, asking how things had been going over the past week.

The children within the orphanage were the children of people who had been lost in the war. From both sides. And it was one of the places that the Foundation offered regular donations to.

"They're quite excited to see you this week," she remarked, as she led him down the hall to the room where the children played.

It was a small orphanage; only eighteen children.

The Mistress had stated that it was better that way, as it meant those within it had the chance to form a bond. That they could truly feel as if they were brothers and sisters, rather than children simply thrown together because all they had in common was the loss of their parents.

Regulus had brought books this week. They always liked books. The received anything he gave with delight, but they always seemed more excited by words and pictures than by sweets or clothes.

They surrounded him excitedly as he entered the room. Children, none of them older than ten. Some just babies when their parents had been lost. Little Draco could have ended up in a place like this, if something had happened to his parents and himself.

"Thank you, Mr Black."

"It's so pretty!"

"Look at the pictures."

"Will you read one to us, Mr Black?"

The sound of the children's voices soothed his heart of the guilt it bore and he smiled.

They crowed round, looking up at him excitedly, their smiles bright.

This was what Regulus was doing it for. This was what warmed his heart and what made each day bearable. Knowing that he had made someone else's life easier.

A child's smile. That was worth something.

But another thought followed closely on the heels of that.

Why was his own child's smile never enough?

* * *

Remus Lupin was lonely.

It was a feeling that had haunted him frequently when he had been a child.

When the only people he had were his parents and he could never hold onto a friend because he was too ashamed of the secret that he kept from them.

From everyone.

That had all changed when he went to Hogwarts.

James Potter had befriended him first. He had been reckless, impulsive and over-confident, speaking to him with an ease that Remus had never experienced.

It had captivated him, how someone could speak to him so.

But James hadn't known then – what Remus concealed – so he assumed that would change in time. So, he kept his distance, the same as he had done with those who had tried to befriend him as a child.

But James Potter was resilient. He had seen something within him worth befriending and, so, Remus was never left alone by him. Sirius Black picked up on James' friendship with him quickly and, very soon after his friendship with James was established, Sirius came along as part of the package.

But Remus had liked Sirius too. Even if he was too easily angered, too quick to dismiss those he had deemed worthy of censure. He supposed that was because he always expected that attitude to be turned to him, should they ever discover the truth.

It hadn't.

At least Remus had thought not, as Sirius and James' friendship had been steadfast, as had Peter's – though, obviously, he didn’t care to think about him anymore – when he had revealed the truth to them. The terrible truth that he was a werewolf, unable to hide it, after a particularly rough month.

They had not turned him away, had not been fearful, nor prejudiced. In fact, if anything, they had appeared excited.

Sirius especially.

It was not until some years later that his being a werewolf had began to cause strain.

It started with Sirius.

Sirius and his 'prank'.

Remus could hardly believe what had happened were true, when Peter had told him. It wasn’t until he had sat within Dumbledore's office, alone, with the old man that the truth had sunk in.

His resentment didn’t come, then, no. But eventually, as the war crept upon them – and doubts began to seep in, poisoning every interaction – it did.

James had convinced Remus to forgive Sirius the first time; for using him as his weapon.

But James had not been there for the second betrayal.

James had not been there to defend Sirius when he had turned on him; named him the traitor – Remus knew it was Sirius who had decided it – he knew that it had been Sirius who had convinced James and Lily it was he who could not be trusted.

That was why Remus had believed the spy had been Sirius; because he had been so insistent the spy was him. He had planted the doubt in James' mind and then he, alone, had convinced them to use Peter as their secret keeper.

And now James was gone.

Peter had betrayed them.

And Sirius had betrayed him.

The Marauders were wiped out with Voldemort.

And now, here was Sirius in his home, which he had entered only a handful of times since then for both knew Remus had never forgiven him for it. All they had in common now was James and James' family – Lily and Harry - and they were the only reasons they ever spoke.

It was only Harry, James' son, who managed to drive away the loneliness that haunted him.

So, Remus knew the moment Sirius and Harry had shown up on his doorstep that day, that something was wrong with one of them.

"You have to talk to her."

"She wouldn’t listen to me, any more than she would listen to you," Remus did not look at him as he spoke; he rarely did.

"She looks to you for advice all the time."

"Hardly. Speak to Julia."

"Julia," Sirius scoffed, "She doesn't understand. Heck, she was blabbering on about what a wonderful wizard he was when I found out."

Remus handed the sandwich he had been making to Harry, who took it from his hands eagerly; "He's done well for himself."

"What does that matter? We can't trust him."

"We don't need to. It's Lily who's working with him."

"You can't tell me you're not concerned about this. She's working with a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake!"

Remus rolled his eyes, "What proof do you have of that?"

"Proof? You don't need to eat a cake to know it's sweet, Remus!"

"You're making assumptions; just like you always do."

Sirius looked irritated by the accusation in his tone; "Don't start with that. This isn't about you."

"Relates quite well, though, don't you think?" Remus looked at him for the first time.

Sirius' eyes narrowed, "Do you think you could put aside your petty issues and consider Lily's wellbeing for a second; for Harry's sake, at least."

"Don't use Harry's name to win your battles; I've seen you do it plenty with Lily. And I can tell you now, Lily knows how to deal with Severus Snape. She did just fine when we knew him before."

"This is different, she's...she's not the same girl she was back then."

"Leave her be, Sirius. She can handle herself. This Fellowship has nothing to do with working with Snape; even if your accusations were true, that’s not going to keep her from him. Not if it means stepping back from something that might actually help James."

"James would kill us if he knew we let her work with Snivellus."

"You’ve changed your tune. Last time I saw you, you were harping on at her for the exact same reason; using James’ name to excuse your own issues."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Sirius' eyes flashed, angrily.

Harry looked back and forth between them, curiously, though seemed as unfazed as ever by their words. He was used to them.

"We both know there's no bringing James back,” Remus said, keeping his voice calm, for Harry’s sake, at least; “But I've had that argument countless times with her – the same argument that me bringing this up with lead to. I'm not willing to stretch my relationship with her to its limits over some non-issue, like her working with Snape, of all people. He's not worth it. So, leave it."

"Of course, he's not worth it, but Lily is."

"So, go to your brother. Get him to kick Snape off the project."

"Be serious!"

"Remus, we're supposed to protect her; we promised James that, didn't we?"

"Yes. Though James' faith in me was not so strong that he would expect me to stand by it."

"There you go again, making everything all about you,” Sirius snapped, shaking his head; “What do you want me to do? I told you I was sorry, what more can you ask?"

"For sincerity?" Remus snapped, looking angrily, "Your entire basis for your accusation is that Snape was an awkward child, who had invented a few spells and knew more magic than you at Hogwarts –"

"That is not my basis," Sirius retorted, furiously.

" – based on nothing but arrogant assumptions about someone's character, according to the picture you've painted of them in your mind. The same as you did to me."

Sirius got right in his face, then.

"You think I wanted to believe it was you?"

"It could have been you, you know," Remus glared back at him, his voice low, "There may have been reasons you thought I was the traitor; but there were plenty of reasons for it being you. You're a Black; your family's stance was clear. You might have wanted to get back into their good graces; might have wanted to impress them, like Regulus was doing."

"That's dragon shit, and you know it!"

"Yes, I do know it!" Remus snapped, his volume rising, "I do know it because I know you! At least I thought I did. Just like you ought to have known me, but that didn't matter did it? You still thought it was me; you still convinced James and Lily to think the same and now we lost him. Lost him because of your arrogance in thinking you know everything and everyone!"

"Me?" Sirius ground out, though his expression betrayed his astonishment, "You...are you saying you blame me for what happened to James? It was Peter!"

"And who told them to trust Peter?"

"Fuck you!" Sirius had clenched his fist, seeming ready to strike at him, but stopped when Harry loyally stepped to Remus' side; "Fuck you Remus. You think I was the only one who believed it was you? James believed it; Lily believed it. Heck, even Dumbledore believed it! Don't stand there making out this is my fault!"

"It is your fault! Don't stand there acting all innocent; you blame yourself too – don't deny it – because you should! Peter could have never done that without you whispering in their ears."

Sirius could only stare at him, lost for words. Sirius rarely could find nothing to say.

But this time his expression conveyed all that words would not; that he was stunned, horrified, hurt, furious. All feelings Remus was familiar with. Feelings he had lived with ever since he'd discovered his friends he had loved had turned on him, over something he couldn't control.

"Are you serious, Remus?" Sirius' voice was almost broken when he spoke, "This is what you've kept to yourself all this time? This is what you've been thinking?"

Remus held his eyes with his.

He didn't say anything, but knew the message was conveyed; simply, yes.

It only took a second for the hurt in Sirius' expression to disappear; for his expression to darken.

"I suppose it's easy for you to convince yourself of that. To sit back, hiding behind your own secret, blame that for everything. Blame everyone else for everything. You made it easy for us to assume it was you; you did nothing to assure us otherwise!"

"If I'd known that's what you thought, I would have! You never gave me the chance to defend myself!"

"What else would we think? You walked around, barely spoke, when you did only to complain about how you hated the war. How you didn't want to fight anymore. What were we supposed to think?"

"You weren't supposed to think, you were supposed to know. And I didn't want to; what I did for the war effort was far more taxing that you! It was all so exciting for you, battles, conspiracies; no one to lose –"

"I lost James!"

"– You try going undercover. Try fearing for your life every second of the day. Try willingly becoming the thing you most hate about yourself constantly and tell me you wanted it to go on. That it wouldn't put a strain on your relationships!"

"You never spoke about it –"

"Because I wanted to escape it!"

"Cowardice; that's what you're using now as an excuse. And the secret. It's always the secret. That's why you were sent undercover; that's why everyone thought it was you. Poor Remus, can't escape the beast within –"

"Shut up!" Remus paled, looking at Harry, but the boy didn't pick up on what Sirius had said and was now looking through a book on the floor, not even registering the argument taking place a few feet away from him.

Remus turned his attention back to Sirius; "It always comes back to that because you make it about that. Was I ever more than a dangerous animal to you; a pet you kept trained?"

"You're talking dragonshit now," Sirius shook his head, "It was never like that. You were my friend."

"Friend? You tried to make me a murderer! You almost ruined my life!"

"Where the heck is this coming from?" Sirius was baffled but his voice was still loud with anger, "That was years ago! We're past it!"

"I thought so too."

Sirius shook his head, "You know what, forget it. I can take care of Lily myself."

"I'll always be there for Lily. Don't you twist my words. This isn't about Lily; it's about you and me."

"What you and me?" Sirius looked at him, his expression tired, "There hasn't been a you and me in a long time. Now you've finally told me why."

Remus lowered his eyes. Could feel himself retreating back into himself. Back to normal.

"Don't expect me to care," Sirius went on, "If you want to sit here and stew about the past; sit here, living your life in bitterness and regret, don't expect me to come and make it all better."

"I never did."

"Harry, let's go."

Harry protested but, upon noticing Sirius stride determinedly to the door, quickly stood and gave Remus a hasty hug before he hurried after his Godfather.

Remus already regretted it.

He had held it back for years because he knew he would. The last thing he needed was guilt added to the list of unwanted feelings he couldn't shake. A part of him had hoped that, when this day came, perhaps it wouldn't be guilt that would come away from it. Perhaps by letting out those thoughts, he would be filled with relief and be free of those debilitating feelings.

The door slammed shut behind them.

But that was not so.

Everything was the same.

Everything was lost.

And he was still lonely as ever.


	7. November 1986: Own Worst Enemy

"Have you heard from Lucius?"

"Why would I?" Regulus glanced curiously at Severus, who appeared concerned.

He always seemed concerned lately. Concerned about the Foundation. Concerned about the project. Concerned about him.

He really did worry too much.

Regulus almost laughed at it; Severus Snape clucking around like an old mother hen, worrying about everything and everyone. Though he guessed the current, unusual erratic behaviour of his was down to Lily Potter's reappearance in his life. An attempt to direct whatever unwelcome feelings her reappearance in his life had awoken into something more productive than _pining._

Regulus wasn't an idiot.

He knew very well what his friend was pretending he wasn’t going through, right now.

"I’ll be speaking to Cissy this afternoon – about the Fundraiser coming up – I’ll have her give him a message –"

"No," Severus spoke quickly, as Regulus lifted the bottle of wine that had arrived at his Aurelius office that morning, “No. It is nothing that can’t wait."

Regulus eyed him, sceptically, Severus’ unease apparently in the way his brow furrowed even as he dismissed the suggestion.

"Is something wrong?"

Regulus popped open the cork of the wine bottle.

"Possibly," Severus affirmed, before he cast a quiet _muffliato,_ "I have come across some rather… convincing rumours concerning the Dark Lord."

Regulus almost dropped the bottle he was holding and looked up sharply, "The Dark Lord? What – what have you heard?”

"Only that his presence has been felt. Lucius is better connected than either of us. He would know of it."

"Then you should speak to him immediately," Regulus almost cringed at how panicked his voice sounded, "What if he were to return?"

"Calm down, Regulus," Severus responded with enviably calmness, though Regulus could sense from the look in his eyes that he was just as concerned as he, "This is not the first time we have heard such claims."

"All the more reason for concern," Regulus countered, as he poured a glass of the wine, "You should contact Lucius tonight. Wine?"

"Not for me. Lucius’ location is unknown, in case you have forgotten," Severus pointed out, as he took a seat in the chair behind Regulus' desk, "What is that?"

"What?"

"That smell," he was looking around with a frown.

"What smell?"

Severus shook his head, "I...I'm not sure."

"Do you think Lucius..." Regulus broke off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Both of their friendships with Lucius had remained intact following the war.

He had never questioned either of them about their change in loyalties. Whether they were true or if they had just been excuses they had used to escape imprisonment. Instead, Lucius had been content to put those days behind him and continue on as normal and he had maintained his relationship with both.

But they had not questioned his loyalties either.

Was it possible he had returned to their former master. That he would play a part in _aiding -_

"I doubt it," Severus said with a certainty that couldn't help but be reassuring, "Lucius is in no hurry to see his return. His life is far better with him gone. What could the Dark Lord's return possibly offer him?"

Severus was looking around the desk, lifting papers mindlessly looking for something.

Regulus nodded, he supposed what he said was true, "What are you looking for?"

Severus never answered him as he stood, almost pacing as he walked around the room.

"Going mad, Sev?" Regulus grinned. He barely noticed as Severus seized the bottle of wine from the desk where he had left it, lifting it to his nose, as Regulus lifted his glass to his lips.

"No!"

The glass he was holding millimetres from his lips, was suddenly knocked from his hand – smashing upon the surface of his desk – and it took a moment for Regulus to get his bearings, he was so startled by Severus’ outburst.

He glanced at the mess. At the smashed glass and the liquid that spilled; now a puddle that sizzled, emitting a smoky vapour that was dizzying if he got too close.

"What –"

Severus' eyes were dark as he appeared in front of him, holding the bottle of wine, "Where did you get this?"

"Uh...it was a gift. From the Prewets –"

"Prewets!" Severus' tone was low, dangerous with fury, as he lifted the gift tag that hung from the neck of the bottle. It only took a second for him to shake his head; "The Prewets would not be so foolish as to try something like this."

Regulus was stunned into inaction.

He had received death threats before – plenty of furious letters, water off a duck’s back – but he had never, not since Severus had warned off potential threats, experienced any blatant attempts on his life. He stepped towards his desk, looking at the liquid that continued to sizzle on the desk.

"What is it?"

"Poison."

"I know _that,"_ Regulus was embarrassed by how rattled his tone sounded, "What kind?"

"Does it matter? There's rosary pea seeds, for sure. But...that smell," Severus lifted it to his nose again, more cautious this time, taking another sniff, his eyes glazing somewhat as he did; "There's something else; a potion. I'd have to investigate further."

Regulus waved a dismissive hand, though its shaking betrayed his fright.

"Don't trouble yourself; you have enough to do."

"Don't talk rubbish," Severus was almost shouting at him, his eyes dark with fury, speaking as if he were a child, "You ought to be more careful. What if I had not been here? You would be dead!"

Regulus straightened, indignantly, "Don't talk to me as if I were one of your students, Severus. Pardon me for having a little faith in human kindness."

"Your naivety will be your undoing," Severus was looking rattled too, as he carefully corked the bottle he was holding, "From now on, only touch food and drink you have purchased yourself."

"Yes, Master."

Severus ignored the jape.

“Have you received any letters recently? Anything to cause concern?"

Regulus averted his eyes.

Severus' eyes narrowed; "Where? Let me see it."

"I don't have it anymore. I destroyed it."

"Regulus!" Severus – with a shake of his head – lifted the spell he had placed over the room earlier and strode to the door, flinging it open.

He called down to the Greeter at the end of the hall, wasting no time in getting to the point when she appeared.

"Has there been any unusual persons down this corridor today?"

"No, Sir. Not that I've seen."

"Mr Black was just now almost poisoned!"

The Greeter, Elena Fitzherbert, turned wide eyes on Regulus, full of concern, "Shall I call for one of the Healers?"

"What for?" Severus' tone was clipped, "You think this is how he would look if he _had_ been poisoned? Obviously he has not consumed it!"

"Severus," Regulus spoke reproachfully, as the girl shied back from Severus' fury.

"I want to see the register of everyone who has entered and left the building today, as well as anyone who may have seen any suspicious figures in this part of the Foundation. Identify and send them to me – immediately – so I may interview them."

"Send them to Mrs Tonks' office," Regulus spoke up, stepping up beside Severus, "She will deal with it.”

Miss Fitzherbert nodded quickly and hurried off to give the message.

"I will deal with this, Regulus –"

"No, Andie can deal with it," Regulus spoke firmly, for he knew he had to be strong if he were to win this argument, "You don't doubt she’d take the issue seriously, do you? Besides, you already said you'll investigate the wine. Let Andie and I deal with finding the culprit."

Severus held his look, before he said, more calmly now, "Very well. But I wish to know when the culprit is discovered and whom that person is. Also, you should contact the Prewet boy – just in case."

"You don’t honestly think they’d have the nerve to sign off on it, if it were them."

"Most likely not. But they may know something."

"There are more pressing matters," Regulus said, though he couldn't help but feel he wasn't being entirely honest with regards to his own feelings with that remark, still more than a little shaken by the realisation that – had Severus not been here – he would be drifting off to whatever afterlife awaited him, right now.

If they were even willing to have them, that is.

He found himself becoming agitated, as his mind sneered at him for being relieved; it's not as if you don't deserve it.

Regulus quickly shook that thought away, focusing on Severus; "I'll focus on tracking down Lucius' whereabouts when I speak with Narcissa later –“ he made his way to the door; “ – I’d better go and let Andie know what just happened – they might not only be targeting me.”

Severus only nodded, his attention on the bottle in his hand, "Yes. Yes, but Regulus –" Regulus turned at his friend's softer tone, " – be careful."

Regulus couldn't help but smile at the genuine concern in his voice.

"Don't worry about me."

Regulus knew the statement was pointless, because from the look on Severus' face the concern he had _already_ been feeling towards him was only likely to increase dramatically following this incident.

Well, Regulus mused, at least he doesn't have to work so hard to keep his mind off Lily Potter now.

* * *

Sirius was staring into the fire, his expression dark, when Lily finally arrived home that night.

It had been a trying day, to say the least, and had been ever since the security breach had been made earlier that week. She wasn't entirely sure of the situation – apparently, whatever incident had occurred was entirely confidential – and none of her colleagues who might have been privy to what had happened were willing to fill her in.

All she knew was that security had been tightened and that no one would be admitted into the building without an identification card and a demonstration of their magical signature.

Lily hadn't seen Sirius or Harry in almost four days, leaving the house early and arriving home after they had gone to bed; so, it was with some surprise that she greeted Sirius upon seeing him, no late into the night.

"Sirius!" she almost gasped, jumping slightly at the sight of him.

With a wave of her wand the room filled with light.

"What are you doing sitting here in the dark?" she glanced at the timepiece, "It's almost one."

"Didn't mean to scare you," he mumbled, not bothering to look at her, taking a drink from the glass in his hand. She frowned, immediately recognising it to be firewhisky.

She glanced in the direction of the stairs, "Did Harry go down alright?"

"Always does."

"Right."

She shrugged out of her cloak, hanging it over the peg by the door, and kicked off her boots.

As the silence stretched, she glanced over at him with some concern, noting that he still remained staring into the fireplace.

A peculiar sight.

It certainly wasn't like Sirius Black to brood.

She stepped around the couch, "Is something wrong?"

He was silent and for a moment she wasn't sure if he had heard.

Before she could repeat a variation of the same question, he spoke up without looking at her, "Do you ever think about how it all happened? What happened to James?"

Lily hesitated a moment, wondering if he really needed an answer to the question.

Of all of them, she was the one who most obviously thought about James. And, more often than not, she spent her life under the brunt of his and Remus’ disapproval over the fact.

She took a seat on the coffee table, opposite, in an attempt to meet his eyes. He avoided doing so, glancing slightly to the side.

"Did something happen? Did you see James?"

"I see him all the time."

Lily sighed, "Sirius, look at me." He glanced at her briefly, before averting his eyes again almost childishly, and she released a small, low chuckle, "Come on, just tell me. What's the matter?"

Sirius drew in a breath – as if bracing himself – before he lifted his eyes to look at her and she was startled to see a sort of desperation in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in years. Not since they – she and James – had learned that they were being hunted and had turned to them, their friends, with the terrifying truth of it.

But it was a flash and it was gone before Sirius spoke, with an intensity in his voice that was also strange to hear, "Lily, before you went under the Fidelius, did you believe that Remus was the spy?"

Lily drew in a slow breath, before she nodded, reluctantly, "You know I did."

"But before _I_ said anything. Did you believe it before I said the things that I was saying? Or was it just because of me?"

"Did something happen with Remus?"

"Just answer me, Lil'," he said, that desperate look in his eyes again, "Would you have thought it was Remus if I hadn't said anything?"

"I..." Lily hesitated, not really sure. It had been so long ago. And she hadn't thought much about the events leading up to what had happened. She dwelled only on the consequences; "I don't know."

Sirius lowered his eyes. His voice quieter, less desperate, then, and filled with regret.

"James never believed it, you remember? It was me who convinced him. I never even thought it could be..." he broke off, taking a long drink and emptying his glass, "It was me, right? I mean, I know how close you and Remus were back then. Even now. You –"

"Sirius, what's the point of this?" Lily shook her head, "It's easy to look back and wish we did things differently. It doesn't change anything. Why dwell on it?"

"Because it's my fault!"

Lily frowned, shaking her head, "Since when have you thought _that?_ Sirius, I don't blame you for any of it –"

"I know you don't," he said, quietly, looking at his hands.

Lily lifted her chin, suddenly realising where this must be coming from.

"What did Remus say to you?"

Sirius gave a humourless laugh and shrugged, "Nothing that wasn't true, I suppose."

"Well obviously that's not the case, is it? Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here thinking these ridiculous thoughts."

"Ridiculous thoughts," Sirius repeated, quietly, "Well you always did think I was an idiot –"

Lily lightly slapped him across the back of the head with a smile, "Snap out of it, Black."

"I'm not joking around, Lily," he looked at her with an intensity that made her uneasy and she averted her eyes.

And then she sighed, looking back at him, before she reached for his hand;

"What did he say to you?"

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, looking away. She rolled her eyes, shaking his hand in hers, impatiently. He sighed, "It was really bad, Lil'."

Lily waited patiently for him to continue and he looked over at her; "I try not to think about it. About the fact that I was the one that told you and James to use Peter as your secret keeper. I mean, Merlin, Lily – what if You-Know-Who _had_ come after Harry? You'd all be dead!"

"But he didn't," Lily turned to face him more fully, "Sirius, what good does it do to imagine how things might have been?"

"Because we lost James. Because I…"

"That was Peter. That's it, Sirius. End of. I don't blame you. James wouldn't blame you –"

"Remus does."

Lily hesitated a moment, surprised at the declaration; "He said that?"

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"He's just angry. At all of us. We didn't trust him."

"We should have."

"Should have; would have; could have. See where I'm going?"

"He blames me, Lily. _Me_. And, you know what, he's not even _wrong_ in thinking that –"

"He's just angry, Sirius."

"That doesn't change the fact that he's right."

"Sirius, listen to me," she spoke firmly, as if she would to a child, "It wasn't your fault. James and I, we made that choice right along with you. And yes, we were wrong; all of us were wrong. And the only person blameless in that choice was Remus. But even that doesn't mean he gets to sit back and judge us for what happened to James."

"Moony always was a self-righteous little prick," Sirius stated, with a tone so withering that her eyes widened in surprise.

"Sirius, maybe you should speak with him again. He’s probably been holding – he’ll be thinking more clearly now."

Sirius shook his head, not looking at her, with an expression that reminded her of the boy she had known at Hogwarts. Stubborn, with an unwavering ability to hold a grudge.

"It could have been so much worse, Lily."

“But it _wasn't_. And it wouldn't have been your fault."

Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment, before he glanced at her.

He leaned over, giving her a light kiss on the cheek, "Going to bed. Night, Lil'."

He stood, without waiting for a response, and strode from the room, not looking at all like he was ready to sleep.

Lily remained on the couch, watching after him as he made his way up the stairs and out of sight, her concern only growing more with each step he took.

She knew Sirius Black pretty well by now. And she knew that once he got an idea into his head, nothing would be able to shake it out of him.

* * *

"Can I help?"

Severus sighed, attempting to reign in his impatience, and glanced at the young boy who was staring up at him, eyes wide and eager.

Malachi Black was one of the few children Severus could actually stand. He was quiet. He liked that. And he was always willing to be of assistance. He supposed that was something he should be pleased with as well. However, there were very few things that a child could help with when it came to potion making.

He glanced at the timepiece on the wall.

He had sent an owl to Regulus almost an hour ago – when Evelyn had shown up on the doorstep declaring that Regulus had promised to take him that afternoon – neither of the two of them surprised that Regulus had forgotten.

Or perhaps simply decided not to show up, Severus had fumed, silently.

"Cut up these. Thinly," Severus did two example cuts and handed the dandelion roots and a knife to the boy, "Do not cut yourself, if you can possibly help it."

Malachi nodded, obediently, and took the items from him, quickly setting to work.

"Miss Quinn has been teaching me about plant roots," he stated, looking at him for approval before continuing, "Mummy grows them, you know."

"Yes, I know," Severus glanced over at him, softening his tone somewhat when he reminded himself that this was his Godson, not one of his idiotic students, "Your mother provide me with those you are working on, in fact."

"Dad wants her to come and work with you and him."

"Yes. Your mother is an excellent herbologist."

"She grows plants. Is that what a her-herbologist," he stumbled slightly over the word, "does?"

"Not exactly," Severus shook his head, though didn't elaborate further.

He needed to concentrate.

That thought had barely left his mind when he heard the door to his house open and the sound of running feet coming towards the room.

He frowned – very aware of them to be the sound of a child – though was only mildly surprised when Draco Malfoy appeared at the door.

Draco smiled brightly at the other boy in the room, "Hey Mac!"

"Hi Draco," Malachi smiled back at his cousin, shyly, before he proceeded to cut up the roots he had been given.

Draco confidently walked over, standing beside the younger boy, looking up at Severus as if he expected him to provide _him_ was a knife so that he may join in with the activity.

Severus rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling incredibly irritated; what was _this_? When had his home become the local haunt for the children of his friends?

"Lucius?" he called out; his tone snappier than he had planned but he supposed it worked.

A moment later, Lucius strode unabashedly into the room.

"Severus, I have been meaning to speak with you," he stated, without so much as a courtesy apology for imposing on his free time. He eyed Malachi for a moment, before continuing, "Where is Regulus?"

"Do you think his child would be here, if I knew?"

Lucius grinned with obvious amusement, before speaking directly to his son, "Draco, take your cousin and show him your new book."

Draco nodded, before looking at Malachi expectantly and walking from the room. Malachi glanced curiously at Severus, only following the other boy at his nod. Lucius flicked his wand, almost clipping the boy's heels as he closed the door behind him.

"Why is Draco with you?"

"He insisted he come along. His mother is currently occupied with preparations for the Yuletide Gala," he ended on a derisive note, before continuing more seriously, "Are you expecting Regulus shortly?"

"He shouldn't be long," Severus stated, as he continued to manoeuvre around his cauldron.

"Then I shan't be long," Lucius carried on, brusquely, "I have looked into your concerns regarding the Dark Lord."

Severus looked up sharply.

"As far as my sources are aware, there has been no definite change in his circumstances," he went on, "There is nothing to concern ourselves with, as yet."

"Are you certain?" Severus looked at him, carefully, "I have heard differently."

"I suppose it is possible that my sources have given me false information," Lucius stated, though Severus felt himself becoming more reassured by his friend's confidence, beginning to relax somewhat, "It is much more likely you have heard wrongly, Severus. Has your Mark returned?"

Severus hand went unconsciously to his arm as he frowned, "No."

"Nor has mine," Lucius stated, "When it returns; then, we will have reason to worry."

"You expected it to return?"

"No. You do."

Severus averted his eyes.

Yes, he did.

But Lucius was not aware of what Regulus had discovered and what they both now knew.

Perhaps if he told him, he may be more thorough in his investigation of the Dark Lord's return. Severus glanced at him, considering it for a moment, and then dismissed it. Dumbledore – and Regulus too, in fact – would be furious if he revealed the secret.

"How does Regulus do?"

"Fine."

"I heard about the attempt on his life."

"It won't happen again," Severus stated with certainty, feeling himself become angry as he was reminded of the events that had taken place earlier that week.

He had been unable to fully investigate the wine that had been sent, due to time restrictions on the Dorado Project and a more intensive week at Hogwarts. And, unable to successfully determine any possible culprits, Andromeda had instead opted to heighten security measures at the Foundation.

It was not enough.

"I doubt that."

"Do you know something about it?" Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Of course not. However, it would be foolish to assume he will not be targeted again. This was a very precise attempt; meant only for him."

"We all have enemies."

"Very true, Severus," Lucius nodded, before flicking his wand and opening the door to the living room, where the boys were sitting on the floor with a book between them, "Draco, prepare your things. We're leaving."

Lucius turned his attention back to Severus, his voice low, "I did discover something during my investigation that may be of interest to you."

Severus raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

"Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban this morning."

Severus' brow lowered at the statement. He felt his stomach clench as he was reminded of the traitorous little rat whose betrayal would have cost Lily's life, had the Dark Lord gone after them.

"How is that possible?" Severus almost spat, receiving a curious raise of the eyebrow from his friend. Severus quickly composed himself, saying, "No one has ever managed to escape. Surely he would have been stopped by the dementors."

"Apparently not. It is not common knowledge, as yet, but the Ministry will not be able to conceal it for long," Lucius regarded him curiously for a moment before he smiled, "Do with that information what you will," he said, with an obvious ribbing at his work for Dumbledore, and motioned with a nod at his son to leave.

* * *

Burning hatred was building up inside her.

Lily’s knuckles were almost white as she clutched the Daily Prophet in her hand, her eyes almost frozen on the headline:

Escape From Azkaban  
Peter Pettigrew At Large

It had taken several days after Peter's betrayal for the gravity of what he had done to sink in. That he had betrayed them and then, just as unforgivably, had attempted to frame Sirius for what had happened. Prior to that, all she had been able to think of was James and his recovery.

But now, _now,_ she knew exactly what he had done.

And there was no one, other than Voldemort, himself, that she despised more in the world.

Peter was the one who had turned them against Remus.

Peter was the one who then turned them over to be massacred.

And even now, they were still trying to put back together the ruins of the betrayal.

Peter Pettigrew had destroyed them. Had blown them apart.

Lily glanced over at Sirius with concern.

He had been quiet even since their conversation the day before, and even Harry had mentioned to her that his Uncle Sirius had seemed upset when he had taken him to the park that day, innocently added that he had been so, ever since they’d gone to visit his Uncle Remus the week before.

Her suspicions confirmed, Lily had been determined to go to Remus and speak with him about it.

Today.

But that determination had been snuffed out, when Sirius had woken her that morning – bursting into her bedroom just past seven – clutching the offensive newspaper she now held, his face a picture of complete rage.

Since then, however, Sirius had settled into a picture of quiet, simmering fury, which she found much more disconcerting than the raging, blindly furious man from earlier that day.

She hadn't bothered attempting to calm him down, much too concerned with the article to pay much attention to his reaction.

"They'll find him. He can't hide," Remus said in an enviably calm voice, having appeared at the house not long after she had read the article.

Sirius had greeted him coldly but allowed him entry all the same, as Harry had eagerly greeted him.

"Who?" Harry asked, innocently, but they took no notice of the boy's question.

"We should look for him."

Lily looked at Sirius, sharply, "No."

"He belongs in Azkaban," Sirius ground out.

"And you'll just quietly hand him back over to the aurors, will you?" Remus scoffed.

"Shut up, Remus."

"I'd really rather we not involve ourselves in this," Lily glanced meaningfully in Harry's direction, "We don't want him to retaliate."

"That's brave," Sirius looked at her, witheringly.

"I mean it, Sirius," she snapped, "Look what happened the last time you went after him."

"I was just fine."

"And the muggles?" she raised an eyebrow, "The only reason he left you alive was because he hoped to frame you; he could have _killed_ you –"

Sirius scoffed, "Sure he could have."

Harry was suddenly tugging at Sirius sleeve, his eyes full of concern, "Does someone want to hurt you?"

Sirius smiled reassuringly, ruffled Harry’s hair and pulled him into a one-armed hug, "No, Harry. I'll be fine. We'll all be fine."

"I don't want you to go to heaven."

"Don't worry, I won't," Sirius kept his arm around him, meeting Lily's eyes.

He looked apologetic for a moment when their eyes met and an understanding seemed to pass between them. He would leave it alone.

At least for now.

But Lily's didn't miss the dark look in his eyes when he looked away from her, back at the moving photograph of Peter on the front of the newspaper.

And – not for the first time in recent weeks – she saw the flashes of Sirius Black, Marauder.

The boy she had known at Hogwarts.

And she knew well enough that boy would never let Peter get away with what he had done to them. That he was lurking there – right below the surface – and that he could only be suppressed so far.

Lily swallowed, completely aware of the fact that their relatively peaceful life could very easily be blown apart once again.

That, with this turn of events, it was very likely to happen.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.


	8. November 1986: Let Me In or Let Me Out

There was no change – no recognition – in James’ expression as Lily sat down on the bed next to him.

There never was.

Sirius had seen to it that he was given his own room. A view out over the courtyard, where children played and patients went for their short, daily walks.

There were various moving pictures were hung around the room – pictures of them, his loved ones, in the vain hope that may trigger a memory – pictures of James with Lily and Harry, older ones from school with him Sirius and Remus.

Only the ones without Peter.

Rich, velveteen curtains framed the windows, red with gold trim – more attempts to trigger – and a Quidditch Trophy and an ornamental Snitch sat on a shelf that Sirius had installed. A music player played quiet music in the corner.

Lily wondered if he could see it all. See all that Sirius had done for him – in the early days – before he’d lost hope. His weekly visits continuing, it seemed, only out of a sense of obligation. A just-in-case act, without any real expectation that James knew he was there.

Sometimes, Lily couldn't help wondering the same. Whether her husband was even there at all. If he was prisoner inside his own body, entirely aware of her presence, her touch, and just unable to let her know it.

Or if he was, truly gone.

She didn’t know which was the better option. Which of the two she should truly be hoping for.

Lily drew in a shaky breath and reached for her husband's hand, squeezing it gently.

"Hello," Lily's voice was almost a whisper.

She rarely came here. But she couldn't avoid it. Not today.

7th November 1981.

Five years ago today. No matter how much she missed him, these visits only seemed to make it worse.

She released his hand, having only held it a few moments, and then pulled out a piece of folded card – a muggle item - before looking back to him, continuing quietly.

"It's Harry's report card. He's doing really well at school. Above average in class, the report says. _Really_ good at the history projects; he's interested in all that stuff. Think he'll be taking History of Magic once he gets to Hogwarts. I know, I couldn't quite believe it myself, considering our less than sparkling performance in the subject. But don't fret, he's still flying around on a broomstick whenever he has the chance, so he'll follow your footsteps and join the Quidditch team the first chance he gets, no doubt."

She had to stop and remind herself to breathe. She was babbling. He would be laughing at her now, if he could.

She wondered if she should mention Peter, then thought better of it.

If he could hear her it would only distress him. If he _couldn't_ then why verbalise anything to do with him.

This was hard enough. Best keep it to the things they cared about. The people they loved.

"Sirius has been distant lately, have you noticed?" she asked, as if they were having a conversation, and took his hand again, "I'm worried about him. Remus too. Things have gotten really bad between them. Harry told me that, can you believe it? He's smart, James. Really smart. Can't get anything by our son."

She hesitated, looking into his eyes, which refused to focus on her.

"Do you want to see him?"

She was back to whispering, her tone uncertain as she asked the question.

She looked down at their hands – his limp in hers – and noticed that both her hands were trembling, her heart beating fast. Her throat hurt, as if a rock was lodged in the back of it, and she almost couldn't swallow the feeling down. She could never get used to this. This feeling of hopeless, _despair_ whenever she saw him.

Was this how Harry would feel like if she brought him here? Would he feel the same pain?

She released an unsteady breath and reached over to brush the hair back from James' face with a small, sad smile. The idea that James was watching her – that the answer was ' _yes'_ and that he was desperate to see his son, the son whom he hadn't seen in five years – made it almost difficult to breathe.

As much pain as James may be in not seeing him, she just couldn't risk putting Harry through the pain she felt whenever she came here.

Not their little boy.

Lily drew in a breath, placing the report card on the side table – said a little word to the deities, hoping that James would understand – and then she leaned forward, and touched her lips to his forehead.

It was still deceiving warm beneath her lips.

And she murmured a goodbye, before she turned and headed from the room.

* * *

To say Severus was in no mood for this month’s Fundraising event was an understatement.

As an employee – and a stakeholder – it was _compulsory_ that he attend, as Regulus so delighted in reminding him whenever these events came around.

And, so, here he was.

Music and laughter and animated voices filled the ballroom of the Foundation – children chasing one another across the floor – while the adults danced and were merry, all – except him, it seemed – enjoying the entertainment and one another’s company.

Sometimes – the _worst_ times – it was horrendous plays and amateur musical performances put on by the Learning Centre. The children – too young for Hogwarts but whose parents didn’t want to rely on tutors or send them to muggle school – attempting to sing and dance while they pranced around a stage in brightly coloured costumes to employees and guests’ applause.

Those were painful to endure, to say the least, and he was grateful there were no such occasions to put up with at Hogwarts.

This event – as always – was almost solely organised by Narcissa Malfoy. A fact evident by the ostentatious decor, the hors d'oeuvres, the expensive champagne, the musicians and live singers. And all this was only a _taste_ of what they would be facing the following month for the Yuletide Gala.

Severus almost shuddered at the thought, though quickly composed himself when he caught sight of Eugene making his way towards him.

"Severus!" he greeted him, brightly, giving him a friendly slap on the back, "How are you, my boy?"

"Very well, Eugene. Yourself?"

"Oh, splendid, splendid –“ he said as he glanced appreciatively at the lady who was signing on the stage, “ – _lovely_ entertainment, this evening, wouldn't you say?"

Severus glanced at her briefly to humour him, giving him an amused glance in response.

Eugene chuckled.

"Ah, you may pretend not to be affected but you _are_ only human, just like the rest of us."

"Perhaps you should reconsider that drink," Severus suggested – for the other man was quite obviously _already_ under the influence, even at this early hour – as Eugene reached for another glass of champagne.

Eugene waved a dismissive hand.

"Do not 'rain on my parade', my boy," he grinned, widely, "It is exceptionally rare that my wife releases me for these events."

"Ah. Then Mrs Hopkins is not in attendance?" Severus asked with obvious amusement, noticing the man's eyes following a young lady who walked by them.

"Nasty, nasty ailment, Severus, most disappointing that it prevents her from making it this evening," his eyes brightened, "Ah, I do believe I have spotted your young endorsee, Mrs Potter, over there – " Severus followed Eugene’s glance; “ – you never told me she was quite so _charming.”_

His eyes immediately found Lily in the crowd. He uneasily glanced around the area that surrounded her, half expecting to see Remus Lupin or, _worse_ , Sirius Black in attendance as her guest.

She was talking animatedly with Andromeda Tonks, a true relaxedness about her expression that he had yet to see since they had started working together. Her hair was curled but hung loose around her shoulders; her dress was green and long, clinging in _just_ the right places before hitting the floor.

He heard a low chuckle at his side and – upon snapping his attention back to Eugene – felt himself go hot with embarrassment at having been caught staring.

"Ah, I see you are not quite so _immune_ to feminine charms as you would like us to believe, hmm?" Eugene wiggled his eyebrows at him, playfully, "Heart is quite impressed with her, as well, as it happens."

"Is she?" Severus lifted his own drink to his lips.

"Indeed. _Marvels_ at some of the information she comes out with. It's almost as if someone – can’t imagine who – is handing over insider information with all the material she needs to know.”

Severus avoided the teasing look – the obvious accusation – and, noticing Regulus had come in the room a few feet away, lifted a hand and attempted to catch his attention before he was whisked away by Narcissa, who he could see begin to approach.

“Uncle Reg!”

“Oh ho!”

Regulus was quickly pounced on by his youngest cousin – Draco Malfoy – and both of them laughed in delight as Regulus grabbed and tickled the boy, before he then swung him in a flip up onto his shoulders and headed in Narcissa’s direction.

Severus took a drink from the glass he held, reluctantly carrying on the previous conversation.

"As I said, she was an exceptional student. I foresaw no problems bringing her onto the project."

"As always, you have proven yourself to be an excellent judge of character," Eugene's expression brightened in a way that suggested he had seen someone else he wished to speak with, "Oh look, there's Dana Wishbone."

Severus had to force himself not to duck behind the nearest ficus tree display.

"Come," Eugene attempted to take his arm but Severus quickly pulled himself free.

"Go ahead, Eugene. I am enjoying the performance," he made a bigger show than necessary of turning his attention to the stage.

Eugene chuckled knowingly but left him, nonetheless.

Left alone, he allowed himself a furtive glance back in Lily's direction. She was now joined by Felix Butterman and was being introduced to Quinton Gold.

A womaniser if there ever was one.

"Severus?"

He turned, smiling immediately upon seeing who had approached, "Evie. This is a surprise."

Noticing that her hands were empty he indicated for one of the waiting staff to approach and then took a glass, hanging it to her.

Evelyn smiled, taking the glass from him, "Thank you. These events aren’t really my thing, but they _are_ one of the few ways I find myself in Regulus' company. I needed to speak with him about Malachi."

"Ah," Severus nodded, but said nothing more on the matter, only than giving a nod in Regulus’ direction so that she may find who she was looking for.

Severus had made it very clear to his friend that he didn't agree with the way he distanced himself from his family. But that in no way meant he was willing to get involved beyond the privacy of their own conversations.

To his annoyance he saw Sebastian Wyler making his way towards them – he always appeared to follow Evelyn around like a bad smell whenever she attended any of these functions – and, so, pretending not to notice his approach, Severus offered her his arm.

"I needed to speak with him, myself."

Evelyn took his arm – though sent an apologetic smile Wyler's way – and allowed him to lead her in the direction he had seen Narcissa and Regulus.

* * *

Sirius could feel himself starting to drift off as he leaned back on the park bench he was sitting on, watching as Harry flew around the open area on the new child's broom he had given him that day.

Of course, Harry didn't understand the significance of the day – the anniversary of the day they’d lost his dad – nor did Sirius have it in him to sit and explain it to him.

He doubted Lily would appreciate it. And he knew well enough to pick his battles.

So, Sirius had simply allowed Harry to think the gift was given without any occasion in mind. Not a meagre attempt on Sirius’ part to try and somehow make up for the huge void that had been left in his godson’s life at his James’ absence.

"That's too high, Harry," he called across the opening and Harry obediently manoeuvred himself – with a skill way above that which was typical for someone his age – so he was closer to the ground.

Sirius smiled, a little surge of pride welling up within him, and allowed himself to relax further.

He hadn't slept much the past few days, Wormtail's escape from Azkaban heavy on his mind. 

_Just let it go,_ he kept trying to tell himself.

Let Wormtail go.

Sirius shook his head, lips twisting, bitterly.

How could he? After all that Peter – their so-called-friend – had done to them. And that he had escaped – had _dared_ to – so close to the anniversary of what had happened made it all the worse.

Something caught Sirius’ attention out the corner of his eye.

He glanced around with a frown, his eyes quickly scanning the bushes marking the edge of the clearing. For a second, he could have sworn he was seeing things and almost shook himself.

However, as he started to turn his attention back to Harry, he saw it again.

Sirius frowned, leaning forward to look more closely and it was then, with a cold realisation washing over him, that he realised what it was he was looking at.

A rat.

Sirius was on his feet and after it in an instant. The rat only stared at him a moment, completely unabashedly, before it turned and began scurrying away.

Sirius increased his speed – but it was nowhere near enough – and so he allowed himself to fall to his knees as he let his own transformation take over him. It wasted time, but only a little, and before long he was chasing after him, hot on his heels, in his Animagus form.

It didn't take long before Sirius had Wormtail in his mouth and he flung it into the corner of a nearby fence. He quickly transformed back, cornering Pettigrew within mere seconds. The rat lay weakly at the fence and he frowned, leaning in closer, before he gave an exasperated groan.

It was just a rat.

Feeling incredibly stupid, Sirius hurried back – futilely attempting to keep himself covered with his hands – to where his clothing lay discarded in the middle of the grass and quickly pulled them back on, tucking his wand away.

He glanced over in the direction of the park and frowned, no longer seeing Harry flying around the opening. Feeling a strange, sickening sense of dread he broke into a run.

"Harry?" he called out, glancing around the skies.

"Harry?" Sirius called out more desperately, his voice louder, and then he heard a soft whimper from beyond the bushes.

He hurried around and felt his heart drop at the sight of his godson lying in a heap on the grass, blood spilling, covering one side of his face, from a gash at the side of his head.

"Harry!" he hurried over and fell to his knees next to him, gathering him up in his arms, "No. No; no! Harry? Harry, talk to me!"

Sirius quickly pressed a handkerchief to the boy's bleeding temple.

Harry whimpered, opening his eyes, and looked at him tearfully.

"It's okay," Sirius whispered, standing with him still in his arms, "You're going to be fine."

* * *

Lily finally managed to disengage from the company of her work colleagues and stepped outside into the night.

There were a few people crowded in various groups out on the patio but she wasn't in the mood for further small talk and walked down the few steps that led to the garden, beyond which the entrance to the Foundation's maze was situated, looking particularly inviting.

She glanced over her shoulder at the party that was still in full swing, before she continued on her way down the path.

Keen for some solitude.

Lily avoided the eyes of a couple that emerged from the entrance, looking particularly dishevelled and incredibly guilty, and she noticed that the man in question was Conan Chesney, the other fellow on the Dorado project, and the woman was someone from the Outreach Department.

Lily wasn't sure of her name, but she was _certain_ that she had seen her with her husband earlier on that evening at the party.

As she stepped through the open, wooden door, she was pleased to see that the maze was empty. Though she supposed she wasn't surprised, considering what its recent occupiers had been up to. She took the first left, allowing herself to walk wherever her feet happened to take her, another right, the next left.

She sighed, allowing herself to take in the beauty of the surroundings. Even the greenery of the maze, itself, hadn't been enough for the Foundation. There were floral displays, stone benches, water features and statues dotted around various key points of the structure.

She took the next right and then stopped, her eyes immediately landing on someone who was sitting down on one of the benches, his back to her.

He moved slightly and she immediately recognised him, just from the way he held himself.

Severus.

Lily hesitated, uncertain if she should try to sneak away – a childish thought, indeed – however as she thought it, she moved and her feet scuffed against a statue to her left.

Severus was on his feet in an instant - spinning around to face her – his hand immediately going to his wand.

The two of them just stood there, staring at one another for a moment – in an incredibly awkward silence – the discomfort of which seemed to increase with each seconds that their silence dragged on.

Lily must have taken seven turns on the way into this place.

How had she managed to take the exact route that would lead her to him?

Severus recovered first, the hand that had been reaching for his wand relaxing and dropping to his side, "Mrs Potter."

"Professor Snape," she nodded – in politeness that still felt incredibly forced - before she relaxed and glanced away, around at their picturesque surroundings, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude –"

"You are not intruding. The maze is open to everyone."

Severus’ expression was almost warm when he spoke, before he indicated the bench.

Lily hesitated a moment before accepting the invitation – it was be rude, not to, even if she did actually have a strange wish to join him – and made her way over to sit.

Severus sat next to her and she thought she could feel his eyes on her, however, when she turned her head to look at him, his attention was fully on the water feature ahead.

"It's a beautiful place," Lily remarked, a bit unsure as of what to say, but the four glasses of champagne she had had appeared to have had a calming effect on her and she found she wasn't quite as uncomfortable as she had been during their previous conversations.

"Well, it was envisioned and designed by the Blacks, so," Severus shrugged.

Lily smiled and nodded, as the two settled into silence once again.

They had been working together for over a month now and, despite the occasional conversation, there was still a suppressive feeling of awkwardness whenever they spoke to one another. As if neither of them knew quite what the correct protocol was for best-friends-turned-adversary-turned-colleague and how to fill the ensuing silences.

Although she supposed _adversary_ wasn't exactly a true reflection of what they had become.

And strangers was even less so.

She had caught glimpses – now and again – of the boy she had known.

"How are you enjoying the project?" Severus surprised her by being the first to break the silence.

"Very well," she was relieved, to easily find something to say in response; "And thank you, really, for all the research you provided me with.”

"No trouble," he almost mumbled.

It had been _more_ than helpful. She refrained from voicing it, the statement and also the massive confidence boost the information provided had given her.

No longer feeling so out of place – a novice in the team, as she’d feared she might do – she finally had hope, again, that what she was doing might actually work.

That Regulus Black’s Foundation just might be the answer she had been searching for.

"It's a pretty amazing, what Black – Regulus Black – has done here," Lily stated, feeling emboldened by the thought and the alcohol she had consumed, and at Severus' glance she smiled and went on, "I mean, the Foundation. I know it's helped a lot of people."

"He'd be glad to hear that."

“You're very involved as well, aren't you?"

Severus only nodded and he seemed to want to say something but didn't and continued to avoid her eyes.

"How do you manage it? Deputy Head of Research, Potions Professor at Hogwarts," she realised she was beginning to ramble and forced herself to have a bit more control over what she was saying.

"Keeps me busy," Severus stated, and she was mildly surprised he had dignified her idiocy with a response, "I have no family to be concerned with."

Lily felt herself sober a bit at the statement and she wondered if that was something she should apologise for.

Not that _she_ could have been any help with such matters, of course.

With a careful glance at him she quickly determined that he didn't appear saddened – nor bothered at all – by the declaration. But she still had a strong, unwavering urge to apologise and so she did.

"I'm sorry."

The two of them sat silent, neither moving for a moment.

And then Severus turned to look at her, his face almost impassive with the exception of a small furrow in his brow that indicated bewilderment.

"You’re apologising? For what?"

Lily hesitated and wondered what she was sorry for.

For a moment she couldn't think of anything.

And then, suddenly, she was thinking of _everything._

Memories from years ago – from when she was a child, before all this – before Harry, before Voldemort, before James.

Back to when it was just the two of them; just her and Severus. The fights, God, they had such awful fights sometimes. She remembered them well. Those fights about Slytherin, Gryffindor, his friends, her friends, politics, blood purity.

" _I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way. I've chosen mine."_

Lily almost cringed as the memory of what she had said came back to her.

It sounded so juvenile. So self-righteous.

And, seeing him now, standing with an organisation that sought to undo it all – all that Voldemort had inflicted – she had obviously been _wrong._

But that was so long ago.

Did he even _remember_ that? Maybe he didn't.

"For..." she hesitated, glancing at him, "For judging you."

Severus held her look, not seeming to react to the statement, leaving her to wonder if he understood what she was talking about.

"Back when," she waved a hand, and he nodded, getting the idea, "I said some things – the night we stopped talking – they weren't true. So, I'm sorry."

Severus seemed to think about that for a moment and she thought she caught a flash of something in his eyes.

It almost looked like guilt. Shame. Enough to make her wonder.

And then he looked away and shook his head.

"That was a long time ago."

"I know. But still..."

"Better to leave the past in the past."

"Maybe. I just wanted you to know."

The two of them sat in silence, though it lacked the awkwardness that had been present before, as each of them thought on what she had just said.

After a few moments, he spoke again.

"I said things that day. Things I'm sorry for also."

"It's okay."

"No. It's not. It was wrong."

Lily hesitated, not really sure how to counter the statement.

She allowed herself to look at him more fully, while he continued to avoid looking directly at her. But then, he raised his eyes to hers with a look so familiar – almost vulnerable – to when they were young that it startled her.

And then she said, completely certain.

"You didn't mean it. So really, it _is_ okay. I forgive you."

"Well. In that case, I'm honoured, Mrs Potter."

There was a hint of teasing in his voice as he looked away from her again.

She blushed at her own audacity for thinking that Severus Snape, the apparently _famous_ and renowned Potions Master, would even care if she forgave him or not, so attempted to direct the conversation elsewhere.

"You know, you don't have to call me that," Lily said, without really thinking.

And, from the way Severus seemed to tense, she realised that she had just opened the door to what would surely be an _especially_ uncomfortable topic of conversation for the two of them.

Severus seemed to think on his response for a moment, before he finally said, "That's your name isn't it? Potter."

There was no malice in his tone.

In fact, there was no emotion whatsoever in the way he said it.

She swallowed – not entirely comfortable with the fact that she'd just put herself in a position where she may end up having to defend her choice of husband – and, so, she went in a different direction, hoping he would follow.

"I'm still just Lily."

He looked at her, as if wanting to check it were true.

She gave an almost imperceptive shrug and smiled, which she felt widen when he smiled, slightly, in return.

"Perhaps we should just address the proverbial hippogriff in the room," she said, feeling braver following his encouraging smile; "I mean, it's been a month, and it's still pretty awkward isn't it?"

"What?"

"This," she motioned her hand between them, "You and me. It's _awkward_."

"I’m sorry you feel that way."

"Oh, please," she almost laughed, " _Really_. You haven’t felt awkward at all?"

“Certainly not. Why should I feel awkward?"

"Oh, you _know_ why," she rolled her eyes and she thought she could see his lips twitch; "We have to work together, don't you think we should talk about it?"

"Some things never change."

"Huh?"

"You. Talk. Talk. Talk," he glanced at her, a teasing look in his expression, "You always had to talk; to have a reason – an explanation – for everything. It is water under the bridge. Why not just let things be?"

"Really? 'Let things be', that's your answer?"

"Answer to what?"

"You're right, some things don't change. You're still as frustrating as ever."

"How much have you had to drink?"

Lily puffed out in mock offence, "Not enough to affect my faculties, thanks very much, Professor."

Severus smiled more fully at that, looking over at her.

He seemed to think for a moment before he spoke.

"I'm still just Severus," he repeated what she had said before.

Lily froze for a moment, holding his gaze, the warmth in his eyes as he regarded her surprising her and seeming to transfer _over_ to her, as she felt herself warm internally at the tentative acceptance of a renewed friendship.

Lily offered him another smile and a nod.

He glanced at his timepiece and she noticed it was almost eleven.

Late and long past the time she ought to have departed.

She stood, brushing down her dress, "I’d better get back. I brought a friend with me; she'll be wondering where I am."

Severus also stood, more slowly, "This friend won't mind that you left her alone for such a long period?"

" _Julia_?" Lily chuckled, easily picturing her in the middle of a large group, telling jokes, stories, the life and soul of the party, "Highly unlikely."

She glanced around, uncertainly, "Perhaps you could point me in the right direction?"

"This is a maze," he was regarding her with obvious amusement, "The point is to get lost and then find the way out. Independently."

She raised an eyebrow, "You seem very confident. Have you ever walked this maze before?"

"Of course."

"Then...you know the way out?"

"That I do."

Lily laughed at the grin he could barely conceal.

"Well then, are you going to tell me?"

"No."

Severus strode past her, making his way – what appeared to be – deeper into the maze. Lily frowned, hesitating for a moment – wondering if that was an invitation or a dismissal – before she hurried after him.

"You know, I _could_ just follow you until you lead me out."

"What makes you think I'm leaving?"

"Aren't you?"

"You will never know."

"You are," she said, rolling her eyes, her tone certain, before she spoke a playful warning, "I'm just going to keep following you, Severus!"

"You do that."

There was a playfulness in his tone she hadn't heard in years.

A playfulness she had almost forgotten he were capable of, because he had lost it for a while in those last couple of years of their friendship.

Severus quickened his pace, teasingly, and Lily struggled to hurry after him, eventually finding herself laughing and she was certain she could hear a low laugh coming from him, ahead of her, as they manoeuvred their way through the greenery, the statues and the flowers.

And, for a moment, she felt like she was twelve years old again – back at their childhood home – chasing her best friend through the fields.


	9. November 1986: A House Divided

Severus couldn’t help the grin he had as he and Lily approached – what he knew to be – the final branch of the maze. He found, when he did, that he had no r _eal_ desire, whatsoever, to head back out there.

Back out to the real world.

He hesitated, getting an idea, before he looked over his shoulder and – finding no one – he frowned, turning back the way he’d come.

“Lily?”

He made a few – several more steps – in his previous direction, onto to be met with:

"Boo!"

Lily face was suddenly centimetres from his – her hands upon his arms to steady herself – having just jumped out from behind one of the statues in an attempt to startle him.

And startled he _was_ , jumping back and almost stumbling like right clumsy fool over the foot of one of the stone benches behind him.

Lily giggled – obviously pleased with herself – and side stepped him with a grin, making her way towards the exit.

Severus drew in a deep, silent breath, attempting to steady his breathing and ignore the thumping of his heart in his chest.

Had she felt it?

He shook the idea away; of course not. They had touched for mere seconds.

"Which way?" Lily asked, when he reached her.

They had come to the final fork in the road, so to speak, and were only seconds from finding themselves back outside in the Foundation gardens.

Severus hesitated, then grinned, shrugging, "Your turn."

She rolled her eyes, "Seriously? You take me this far, and then _stop_ at the last possible moment?"

"The last possible moment? For all you know these routes could lead us back to the centre."

"We've been going ‘round in circles for almost half an hour, how long could the maze possibly be?"

"That's something to take up with the Founder, I'm afraid. Perhaps I can arrange a meeting for you?"

"Let's go left."

Lily turned, choosing – to Severus' disappointment – the _correct_ route to the exit and a few moments later they were stepping out of the structure, back into the gardens.

Severus felt himself redden when he noticed some heads turn in their direction curiously though, after a little scrutiny, they appeared to have passed the ‘assessment of decency' and the brief attention they had received was gone.

Severus started to speak, however, before he had the chance, a concerned voice rang out.

"Lily!"

They both turned sharply in the direction of the voice – an oddly familiar one – and Severus felt his joy die away at the sight of _Remus Lupin_ hurrying towards them, a woman he didn't recognise at his side.

"Remus?" Lily was frowning as she stepped towards him, "What are you doing here?"

Lupin looked like he was trying to calm himself down before he spoke, glancing in Severus' direction for a moment with undisguised curiosity, before turning his attention back to Lily, "Nothing to worry about. It's just Harry –"

"Harry?"

The little bit of joy that had been left in Lily’s expression vanished, to be replaced by a look of panic that Severus recognised to be typical of a mother fearing for the safety of her child.

"What is it? Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's fine, but – see, there was an accident –"

Lily didn’t wait to hear the rest, pushing by Lupin and hurried towards the gates, with the clear intention of returning to her child’s side, immediately.

Severus watched after her for a moment before he felt himself being watched and turned to find the werewolf's eyes on him.

Severus returned his glare, not quite a scowl but definitely not friendly, before he walked by him and made his way back to the party. He heard the woman saying something to Lupin, before they followed in the direction Lily had taken.

Severus didn’t get far – only a few steps – before he was halted, suddenly, by the ‘pop’ of an apparition of Regulus’ house elf, right below his feet.

"Professor Snape.”

“Kreacher.”

“Master Regulus asks that Professor Snape immediately apparate home."

Severus frowned, "Home?"

“Master Regulus insists.”

Kreacher disappeared with a ‘pop’, clearing as unhappy at being dispatched to deliver the message and Severus was to be faced with the odious creature.

Severus rolled his eyes – vaguely wondering why Regulus would summon him home, in the middle of one of his own fundraisers – and made his way to the gates, apparating to Grecian’s Clay where their joint home was situated.

He was not wondering long.

For in the place where his and Regulus’ joint home _should_ be, there was now merely a pile of ash and smouldering rubble in its stead.

* * *

Sirius stared at the picture of himself and Harry hanging on the wall, as he lay on Harry's bed, his godson cuddled up into his chest, sleeping soundly.

Sirius released a trembling breath, feeling guiltier than he ever had done in his life. Harry was fine, the Healer had assured him.

Just a broken arm and a mild concussion, he’d said, before he had quickly corrected the broken arm and given him a potion to drink for his head.

_Just a broken arm. Just a mild concussion._

Sirius dreaded facing Lily with the news.

He had taken the Harry out flying – with her permission, at least – and he had crashed headfirst into the ground! It could have been so much worse. Sirius shook his head in disgust with himself, at how his distractedness about Peter had almost cost him the one person who was dearest to him in this world.

Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's head.

He heard the door to the house open and slam, followed by frantic footsteps coming up the stairs. He drew in a deep, bracing himself for the quarrel that he knew was to come.

The door to Harry's room opened – so forcefully that Harry was jolted from his slumber – and Lily stood there, staring at them both for a moment and Sirius could see the terror in her expression slowly slip away upon seeing Harry awake and well – well, _well-ish_ – before she hurried over, sitting next to the two of them on the bed.

Harry shifted in Sirius’ arms, sitting up, "Mum."

"Are you okay?" she took his face in her hands, speaking with a softness that didn't match the franticness in her eyes, as she quickly glanced over her son.

Harry nodded and Sirius released him from his hold and pushed himself up to sit on the bed more comfortably.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" Lily's hands were running up his arms, as if feeling for the broken bone that had been there before.

"No," Harry shook his head, "Uncle Sirius took me to hospital. The Healers said I was fine."

Sirius caught a brief flash in Lily's eyes as she glanced in his direction, but she kept her expression soft and smiled when she looked back at Harry; "What happened, sweetheart? Do you remember?"

Harry nodded, glancing at Sirius for approval. Sirius forced himself to smile reassuringly at the boy, though he had the distinct impression that whatever he was going to say would not be to his advantage.

"I was flying on my new broom," Harry said, speaking with a thoughtful tone, "And then I saw Uncle Sirius run away. So, I tried to turn around, but my broom hit one of the posts," he shrugged, innocently, "And then I fell."

Lily raised her eyes to Sirius, her brow furrowing slightly, "What do you mean Uncle Sirius ran away?"

Harry shrugged, innocently, looking over at his Godfather with as much bafflement as his mother.

Sirius rubbed Harry’s arm – avoiding Lily's eyes - and changed the subject; "The Healers said he’d be fine. But he can't ride his broom for four weeks and we have to keep an eye on him for the next couple of days. Mild concussion, is all –“ he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, as if that might convince Lily it were no big deal, “- he gave him a potion for it."

"I broke my arm too, Mum," Harry announced proudly – while Sirius wished the ground would swallow him whole at the look of horror on Lily's face – as he held up his right arm, "But they fixed it, see."

"How long has he been sleeping?" Lily rubbed the arm Harry had held out to her, looking directly at Sirius, "You know –"

Sirius nodded and quickly interrupted, "I've been waking him every hour. But he's better. He's fine. Really."

Lily gave him a look that seemed to say – ' _who are you trying to convince?' – b_ ut never said anything further, instead turning her attention back to her son.

She pulled Harry into a hug, pressing her lips to his head, and Sirius thought he saw a tear slip down her cheek before she buried her face into in hair.

"Are you sure you feel alright, sweetheart?"

"Uh huh. I'm fine," Harry reached for his robes that were flung over the chair next to the bed, pulling out a chocolate frog wrapper, "Look, the Healer gave me this. And look!" he grinned at her brightly, holding up the card that had been inside, "It's Merlin!"

Lily smiled and nodded, and Sirius half expected that she was going to burst into tears from the look on her face. But instead she took a deep breath, giving her son another quick hug, "Alright. Well, you better get back to sleep."

"Uncle Remus was here," Harry said, in an obvious attempt to delay being sent back to sleep.

"I know. I saw him."

"Is he still here?"

"No, he's gone home. But he's coming to see you tomorrow. First thing. Sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll see him, alright?"

Harry smiled brightly at that, giving a nod, and shimmying down into the covers.

Lily smiled and pressed another kiss to his forehead, before she stood and looked in Sirius' direction – all the warmth that had been present when she had looked at her soon gone – and she held that look for a moment, making it clear that there was more to come.

Sirius swallowed and reached over, ruffling Harry's hair, "Sleep well, little man."

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up, as Lily pulled the covers out from underneath Harry and tucked them up around him.

"You come and wake me if you need me, okay?"

Harry's eyes seemed to gleam mischievously at that but Lily took no notice, giving him a loving smile, before she turned and headed out the room. Harry blew Sirius a kiss as he walked by, which his Godfather pretended to catch, and, with a forced grin, he forced himself to follow Lily and closed the door.

Lily didn't say anything at first, as they walked down the stairs, the silence almost deafening as they made their way through the living room and into the kitchen.

Sirius stopped just as he got through the door, waiting expectantly. The two of them stood like that a moment, him behind her, she not facing him.

And then she turned and he almost flinched at the look of fury in her eyes and, for a moment, truly thought that she was going to _slap_ him.

Instead she flicked her wand and the door behind him closed. Her voice was low when she spoke.

"Uncle Sirius ran away?"

* * *

Harry didn't like it when they fought.

But he was never surprised when they did.

He could tell when they were in the room that they were going to fight.

They had that _look_.

The very look they always had before they sent him to his room and it never took long after that for them to start shouting. And – just as he knew was going to happen – Harry quickly heard the familiar rumbling of angry voices downstairs.

They weren't shouting yet.

But they _would._

Harry drew in a sad, shaky breath, reaching up to touch where he had hit his head before. He winced at the tenderness he felt but, upon glancing in his reflection in the mirror on the wall, could see no mark when he had fallen.

He lifted his arm to look at, once again filled with wonder at how quickly and easily they had fixed it and how quickly the pain had disappeared once he did.

Harry had thought his Uncle Sirius was going to cry when he was standing there, watching the Healers rushing about him. He had never seen him cry before and he had felt really guilty when he realised that he was the reason his uncle was upset. And he kept trying to say sorry and offered as many hugs as he could, to try and wipe the sadness away.

But his Uncle Sirius hadn't let Harry apologise, insisting that _he_ was the one that was sorry and that he'd never let him get hurt again.

He heard the voices grow louder below him and he pushed himself into a seated position, as a worrying thought came to mind.

Were they arguing over him?

His Uncle Sirius had been upset earlier and had almost cried because of him. And his mum looked like she was going to cry as well when she had come to see him.

Harry swallowed down the lump that has risen in his throat and suddenly felt uneasy, like he wanted to cry as well. But he was too old for that, he quickly reminded himself, pushing away the upset he felt. He would just go downstairs and tell them he was sorry.

They didn't need to _fight_.

Harry quickly threw the covers off of himself and climbed out of bed, scurrying from the room, towards the stairs, eager to make them stop.

He could almost hear them, able to pick out little bits of what they were saying and then he stopped, feeling worried, because they sounded so much _angrier_ than he expected.

So, he sat down on the stairs, instead, listening to them and waiting until they didn’t sound so mad.

"Six years old...could have been killed..."

"...flown on a broom plenty times..."

"...watching him!..."

So, they _were_ arguing about him.

Harry swallowed, feeling guiltier, as he realised that his mum was very, very angry at his Godfather and he was the reason for it.

"...only reason it’s never happened to you is because you're never here!"

"Fuck you!"

Harry jumped, his mum’s voice sounding particularly furious.

He felt himself shaking and drew his knees to his chest, looping his arms around his legs in a tight hug.

He wished his Uncle Remus was there. He could always stop them fighting.

"...supposed to be taking care of him..."

"..some responsibility...always leaving him with me..."

"...you said you wanted...now such a burden..."

Harry frowned, leaning fully against the banister to try and hear more clearly.

"...distract for days...Peter...need to stop obsessing..."

"... _Obsessing_? Look who's talking...your son...should take more responsibility..."

"...doing my best..."

"...trying so hard to give him a father...can't even give him a mother!"

Suddenly they went quiet.

Harry frowned, straining to hear them.

Maybe if they had gone quiet, they wouldn’t be so angry now. And he could go to them and say he was sorry and then they’d be fine.

He tentatively stood and made his way down the stairs as quietly as possible. He hurriedly made his way across the living room towards the kitchen door, when the voices didn’t come, a strange silence falling over the house,

And then he could hear his mum crying, saying something he couldn't make out.

"...Lily, I'm sorry..."

"...maybe we should leave..."

"...no...don't you need to..."

"...this isn’t working...fighting too much..."

Harry took a step back, his heart sinking, before hurried forward, as quietly as possible, leaning his ear against the door.

"...think it would be best. Harry and I have been living here too long. You said he was getting confused.”

"That doesn't mean I want you to _leave_. We can make it work. Explain to him –"

"What for? I mean, look at us, Sirius, we fight constantly. What if he can hear us?"

"He can't. Look, Lil' –"

Harry backed away from the door, suddenly certain that _he_ wasgoing to cry.

His mum was going to take him away!

It was just like Ron had said.

Harry turned and hurried away from the door, trying to keep as quiet as possible. He had to see his Uncle Remus. He had promised him he wouldn't let his mum take him away.

He reached the door and tugged on the handle, relieved to see they hadn't yet put the wards on for the night and hurried out into the darkness.

* * *

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, Lily."

Sirius' eyes were desperate and Lily shook her head, because she knew that he _did_ mean it, and that he had been implying as such for weeks now.

That she wasn't doing right by her son.

"Lily," Sirius tone was almost pleading, "I'm sorry, okay? I think you're a great mum. And I love having you both here –"

"We have to think about what's right for Harry."

"This _is_ right for Harry," Sirius took her hand, forcing her to turn to face him in her chair, "Lily, you know it is. He's happy. He's got us both here. And...and sometimes you can't be here – and that's okay!" he quickly added, obviously sensing her about to interrupt, "That's okay. I don't mind that. I want to be here for him. For both of you. I promised James I would and I meant it. I’m here for you, Lily."

Lily sighed and allowed herself to look at him – _really_ look at him – and she could see the desperation, the hurt in his eyes that she would even think about leaving.

About taking Harry away.

Lily almost shook her head, realising just how much of a _mess_ they had gotten themselves into by living together in the first place.

And then she remembered just how much Sirius had done for them. How he had been there, _everyday_ , for the past five years. Taking Harry without question whenever she needed him to, when she was doing her training, when she was doing her apprenticeship. Even now, when she was doing something he so strongly objected to, he was still there.

Sirius was still with them. Behind her.

When Lily looked back, Sirius was looking at the table, a look of defeat and pain in his eyes, clearly contemplating the idea of living without them.

Lily sighed, causing him to look at her and she opened her arms with a small smile, "I'm sorry."

Sirius looked momentarily surprised. And then he returned the smile and leaned in, hugging her tightly, "Does this mean you'll stay?"

"Are you sure you want us to? I mean, don't you want to settle down with someone –"

"No, I'm sure," Sirius interrupted her, "And I'm really sorry, Lily. Not just for what I said but for Harry as well. I was...distracted. It won't happen again, I promise."

She pulled back raising an eyebrow with a small smile.

"Damn right, it won't."

* * *

Remus hurried through the small living room of his flat, shrugging himself into his robe, at the sound on the insistent knocking at his door.

Something must be wrong.

He pulled the door open, freezing in shock at the sight before him. Six year old Harry Potter, in his pyjamas, tears streaming down his cheeks, standing alone on his doorstep.

"Harry," Remus quickly pulled him in, "What...how... _where's_ your mum?"

The little boy only sobbed and Remus dropped to his knees, pulling him into a tight hug. He held him for a moment as he cried before a sudden panic seized him, and he drew back, holding Harry by the shoulders, "Did something happen, Harry? You mum? Uncle Sirius? Are the okay?"

Harry looked at him with a confused frown at the question and nodded, sniffing as he did so, "Uh huh. They're okay."

"Then wha...what are you doing here? Are you by yourself?"

At Harry's nod, he went on anxiously, "Harry you can't do that! Do you know how late it is! How dangerous...There's people outside, bad people –"

"It’s just like Ron said, Uncle Remus! Mum's gonna take me away!" the boy declared, interrupting him, before he sobbed again.

* * *

Lily stepped into her room, feeling physically and emotionally _exhausted_.

Were there any other emotionally draining things that could have possibly happened that day?

Visiting James, frolicking in the bushes with her old best friend, her son almost killing himself falling off his broomstick, and yet another, much more heated, argument with Sirius.

She reached up, pressing a hand to her forehead, before catching sight of her ghastly reflection in the mirror. Apparently, she looked just as bad as she felt and she rubbed the hand that was on her forehead, feeling the tell tale signs of a headache.

She could put it down to the champagne she drank earlier that evening.

Though she doubted that it could be blamed entirely.

Lily quickly changed into her nightgown and prepared to climb into bed however, hesitated a moment, and then headed out the door, back down the hall towards Harry's room.

She paused a moment at the door, noticing it was still slightly ajar from earlier and wondered for a moment if he had heard her and Sirius arguing, before quietly pushing it open and glancing into the room.

She frowned, an uneasy feeling settling over her when she didn't see him in his bed, and quickly flicked her wand to light the room.

A few seconds later she was at the door of Sirius' room, knocking frantically. The door pulled open and Sirius stood there, still dressed in his day clothes.

"Is Harry in there?" she asked before he could say anything.

Sirius frowned, "No –"

The look on his face had been enough to answer her question and she was already hurrying down the stairs before he had finished answering.

She heard him follow close on her heels as she called for her son.

"Harry? _Harry_?"

Met only with silence and darkness, she felt a breathless dread wash over her.

Before she could fully react, the floo flared up and Remus' face appeared in the flames, "Anyone there?"

She hurried over to him; "Remus, Harry is –"

"Don't worry," Remus interrupted, "He's here. He's with me."

"What do you mean he's with _you_? How did he get there?"

Remus glanced between the both of them, looking particularly unimpressed, "He managed to sneak out while you two were screaming your heads off at each other. At least, that's the impression I got when he showed up in tears at my doorstep."

"Get back, I'm coming through," Lily began to reach for the floo powder.

"He's sleeping. Maybe you should come and get him tomorrow."

"No –"

"Lil'," Sirius put a hand on her shoulder, "Maybe he's right. We don't want him more upset."

Lily hesitated a moment, her heartbeat and breathing still coming frantically, the terror of finding her son gone not quite leaving her yet.

She forced herself to calm down and turned back to Remus; "Is he okay?"

"Just a bit upset."

"Physically? He has a concussion –"

"I know. Was there, mind? He's fine. Don't worry."

Lily nodded, swallowing guiltily, Remus' clipped tone making his disapproval over what had happened between them apparent, "Okay...okay, I'll come and get him in the morning."

Remus barely even nodded, saying nothing else, before the flames died down and his face disappeared.

She felt Sirius hand on her shoulder again, giving her a comforting squeeze, before she heard him make his way back up the stairs.

She sighed, lifting a hand to her face, and sunk back onto the couch, as Sirius' words during their argument came back to her.

He had said it before. That Harry needed a mother. That she wasn't around enough. Always in an argument though, never with concrete proof.

And now here she was, the evidence of her failings as a mother staring her straight in the face.

What more proof did she need?

* * *

"I want to stay with Uncle Sirius."

Her six-year-old son was glaring at her, as if daring her to say otherwise, and she found herself wondering where the years had gone.

It hadn't seemed that long ago that she had held him in her arms, her tiny little baby – who depended on her for everything – eyes full of adoration whenever he looked at her.

The expression on his face, now, the determination and the accusing glare, only served to remind her that her son was growing up. Was starting to make his _own_ decision about what he wanted, what he thought was right.

"Harry," she took his hands in hers, "I told you. We _are_ staying with him. For now."

"Not for now," his eyebrows lowered, "Forever!" he insisted.

"Sweetheart, soon Uncle Sirius will have a family of his own –"

"He told me that w _e're_ his family. He won't love anyone else as much as he loves us."

Lily sighed, shaking her head and rubbing a hand to her forehead, "Yes. Yes, we are his family. But, Harry, we're a different sort of family to him. We're...we're like...The type of family that I mean, are mums and dads and their children."

Harry shrugged, glancing down, his tone tentative, "I don’t mind Uncle Sirius being my dad. It’d be good –"

"He is _not_ your dad," Lily found herself saying, firmly, before she could stop herself.

Harry's shoulders dropped in obvious disappointment, as he continued to look down at the bed covers, rubbing a piece of fabric between his middle and index finger.

"I wish he was," he whispered.

"Harry," she sighed, "Harry, you already have a dad."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do. James. Remember I told you about him? I gave you pictures –"

"I don't want pictures. I want a _dad_. All my friends have a dad. Ron has a dad. It's not fair."

Lily felt a lump form in her throat – entirely unable to disagree with what he had said – as she was reminded of what her son had lost. What he must grow up without, should she fail in her attempts to bring his father home.

Lily turned around, sitting with her back to the headboard, and her son allowed himself to be pulled into her embrace, leaning against her, but didn't say anything more.

"I know it's not fair, Sweetheart," she kissed his head, "I know."

"Why can't you marry Uncle Sirius?"

She stroked his hair, holding back a smirk at the suggestion.

What a disastrous marriage _that_ would be.

"I'm married to your dad, Harry. To James."

"He ruins everything."

"Harry!"

"It's true!"

Lily leaned back, turning him to look up at her, "Harry, your dad loves you. Very much. If he could be here he would. He wants to be here."

Harry didn't meet her eyes, only glared at the top button of her dress.

"I understand how confusing it must be for you. But you have to remember how much he loves you, okay? It's not his fault that he can't be here."

"Will he come back?" Harry looked at her, questioningly, "I heard Uncle Sirius once say you think he's going to come back."

Lily hesitated when faced with the question. Once again put in the position of giving him hope at the risk of it being taken away.

She didn't know.

The thought startled her and she felt a jolt as it came to mind. She didn't know.

When had the answer changed to that? When had it gone from an unquestioning, determined ' _yes_ ' to the uncertainty she now felt?

Lily forced a smile, brushing the hair back from his forehead, "Maybe. I hope so."

"I don't."

"Harry!" she was finding herself shocked by her son's statements far too much during the conversation, "Don't say that. I thought you said you wanted your dad back?"

"Not him. I want Uncle Sirius," then he shrugged, "I don't mind if you marry Uncle Remus though. He'd be a good dad too."

"Remus..." Lily shook her head, stopping short, incredulous at the conversation they were having, "Harry, only people who love each other get married," ' _not entirely true, but let's go with it'_ , "Your uncles are like brothers to me. Girls don't marry their brothers," she hoped putting it in that context would make him understand, "It's like how Ron is Ginny's brother."

"But they're not your _real_ brothers," he stated, impossibly, refusing to accept the example as a valid point.

Lily could feel the headache she had already had building up pressure, and she closed her eyes against the frustration she was feeling.

"Ron says you're not really married to dad now since he's gone. It's okay for you to get married again –"

"Harry, enough," Lily interrupted him, her tone making it clear the point would be discussed no further, "I'm not going to get married again. Not to either of your uncles."

Harry's brow furrowed and he raised his eyes to her, "You mean you'd marry someone else?"

"No!"

Harry huffed and crossed his arm across his chest, glaring at her furiously, "So I'll never have a dad then!"

Lily rubbed her hands over her face, "I'm sorry, Harry," she sighed, "But I told you. You do have a dad."

"What if he comes back?" Harry was looking at her, frowningly.

"Well, then he comes back," Lily shrugged and then smiled, widening her eyes with an excitement she didn't feel, "And then you'd have your dad back."

"So he would come and live with us?"

"Yes, of course."

"What about Uncle Sirius?"

Lily hesitated, glancing over him, at the suspicion in his eyes as he eyed her; "Well...by then your Uncle Sirius will already have his own family."

"You mean he'll be gone."

"Not gone. He’ll just be living somewhere else."

"Because my dad came back?"

"No. Because he would have his own wife and his own children to live with."

"He won't. He has me. He doesn't need _children_."

Lily couldn't help but find herself amused at the jealousy Harry was already expressing for children that hadn't even been conceived yet.

"You would like them. You'd be their cousin. It'd be like having a little brother or sister."

"You could marry him and give me one."

"Harry, stop it," she let out an exasperated breath, feeling uncomfortable and irritated by his fixation on the idea of her and Sirius getting married.

The whole suggestion only made her consider rethinking her current decision to stay with him; perhaps they just rip off the plaster and get it over with. Especially if the pain of conversations like these were going to continue as a result.

"What if Uncle Sirius doesn't get married to someone else?" Harry was looking at her, carefully, "Would he live with us if my dad came back?"

Lily sighed, knowing the answer wouldn't go down well, "To be honest, Sweetheart, probably not."

"So he'd have to leave?"

"Maybe. Or perhaps we would. We haven't decided who would stay at the house."

"I don't want to move out. I like my room. I'd have to leave it if he comes back?"

"People move houses. Sometimes it's nice to have a new room."

"No. I don't want a new room. And I don't want to leave Uncle Sirius."

"Well, for now we are staying," Lily stated, hoping that would placate him for now.

Harry was looking thoughtfully at the covers of the bed again, seemingly mulling over what she had said. Just as she was about to move and suggest he get dressed and ready to return home, he spoke up.

"Maybe if my…dad comes back, you could go and live with him but I could stay with Uncle Sirius."

"No, Harry," Lily immediately put end to that thought, and lifted his chin to look at her, "If your dad comes back we'll be a family. The three of us. You'll be staying with me."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You don't want to live with me?"

Harry hesitated, looking at her, before he twitched nervously, "I want to live with you. But not with him."

"Harry –"

"I hope he _never_ comes back. I hate him!"

"That's enough, Harry!" she finally snapped, "Do not _ever_ speak about your father that way."

"You said to always tell the truth! That’s the truth! And I want to stay with Uncle Sirius!"

Lily flung her legs over the side of the bed, standing up, trying desperately to keep herself under control.

She brushed down her dress, shaking her head, not looking at him, as she attempted to think of something appropriate to say in response to his declarations.

She couldn't find anything; no words presented themselves. She was terrible at this. Perhaps she should have allowed Sirius to accompany her that morning when he offered.

She shook her head.

Maybe that was the root of the problem. Sirius could deal with her son better than she could.

"Harry, get dressed. We're going home."

* * *

"Perhaps you were right."

Remus glanced over at Lily as she voiced her thoughts.

"It may be best if I took Harry to see James. Allow him to see his father," she glanced in the direction of the room that Harry was currently preparing himself in, "It might help with the confusion he has been feeling over our living situation with Sirius."

"Two of you should never have done that in the first place."

"You've never complained before," she frowned, looking at him sharply.

"What good would it do?" Remus shrugged, "Two of you are just going to do what you want. Sirius especially. He's doing it for himself, you know, not for Harry."

"Remus –"

"Just doesn't want to be alone. Only reason he gets up in the morning is for Harry –"

"That's not true."

"Yes it is," Remus shook his head, "But even then he only ever cares about himself."

"Remus, stop," she sighed. What time was it? 10.30? Half-way through the morning and she was already wishing the day was over. She didn't have the energy for another conversation like before; "You know how much he loves Harry. And he takes care of him."

Remus glared bitterly into the newspaper he was holding, not answering.

"Harry told me about the argument the two of you had."

He didn't take the bait.

"What you said wasn't fair."

"Don't talk to me about fair, Lily. Wasn't you he turned all your friends against, was it?"

"He didn't..." she hesitated, before pushing on with what could turn out to be an ugly conversation, "Remus, we all made that decision. And I'm _sorry_. So is he."

"Are you trying to say he didn't have to do any convincing?" he looked directly at her, and she found herself averting her eyes.

She attempted to steer the conversation in another direction; "We have to stay united, the three of us. For Harry's sake."

"For Harry's sake? Let's not forget who Harry came running to last night –"

"Oh, _nice_. No need to be so smug about it, Remus."

"I'm not being smug," he leaned back, looking more than a little smug, indeed, "It's the truth. You and Sirius need to sort out _your_ problems with each other. _Those_ are what are affecting Harry, not mine and Sirius' issues. Most of the time he never even sees us together."

She sighed, looking down, once again remembering the terror of finding her child not in his bed in the middle of the night. It wasn't something she ever wanted a repeat of.

"When are you taking him to see James?" Remus spoke again, his tone almost apologetic.

"I don't know. Soon. Maybe in a couple of weeks."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She shook her head, "No, thank you."

She would take Sirius, she thought – though she obviously knew better than to state that to Remus considering his current sentiments towards him - after all, if Harry could see how supportive Sirius was of their reunion – how much his uncle cared about his dad – it would ensure that he didn't feel that he was betraying his relationship with him by wanting to see his father.

Something familiar out the corner of her eye caught her attention and she glanced at the front of the newspaper Remus was holding; a picture of Severus was on the front page.

She frowned.

"Why is Severus on the front of the Prophet?"

Remus raised his eyes from the paper, looking at her curiously for a moment.

"His and Regulus Black's house was torched last night. Pretty advanced flammation spell, apparently. Destroyed everything in the house."

Lily's eyes widened, "Are they alright?"

"No one was injured," Remus eyed her for a moment, before turning his attention back to the paper, "There isn't much information in the article. You'd be better asking _Severus-_ " he glanced at her as he said the name, "-what happened."

Lily tilted her head at the curious look in his eyes but decided not to take the bait and leaned back, furtively glancing over the front of the newspaper; alongside the picture of Severus was a picture of Regulus Black, with a larger one above of a pile of black rubble.

The door to the guest bedroom opened and Harry stepped out. He looked at her frowningly for a moment, before crossing his arms over his chest, making sure she knew he was still unhappy about their conversation.

She stood, raising an eyebrow.

"Ready to go?"

"Uh huh."

"Say goodbye to Uncle Remus."

"Bye," he huffed – not offering him the usual hug he did when leaving – and marched over to the fireplace.

Lily shared a look with an amused Remus, before she walked over, taking her son's hand, and made their way back home.

* * *

Following the destruction of his and Severus' home, Regulus had swallowed his pride and turned to his cousin for help, taking up residence at Malfoy Manor.

It was the best option. The reporters had been _hounding_ him all weekend for a statement regarding the arson attack, and there was no better place to seek respite from it than the home of Lucius Malfoy, where none would _dare_ breach the defences.

Those wishing to speak with him hadn't been able to enter the grounds on which the house stood and, with them being as vast as they were, they had been unable to see him whatsoever.

That was something he would not have had the satisfaction of if he had taken up residence with Andromeda, even if she were the cousin he would normally turn to, in trying times like this.

Regulus was certain he was in a better position than _Severus_ , who had been forced to take up residence at Hogwarts, stuck in the tiny chambers offered to him there, with only their own school teachers for company or that of a bunch of rowdy teenagers who he knew drove Severus up the wall.

He got a chuckle, before his eyes went to his godson a few feet away.

Regulus gave Draco a grin, as he noticed his little cousin dip a hand into the glass pot by the fire, which contained several of Lucius' most expensive sweets.

The little boy returned the smile – delighted to have his Godfather on his side – and stuffed a handful of the sweets into his pocket before hurrying back to the book that his father had given to him on his return from abroad as his mother came into the room.

"How are you feeling, Regulus?" Narcissa regarded him with the same concern she had greeted him with when he had arrived the night before.

"Just peachy, Cissy," he shrugged, trying not to think about all that he had lost in the fire.

It didn't matter.

It was just _stuff_ , he tried to reason with himself.

It was the same thing he had said to Severus in an attempt to make the situation seem less dire; however his friend had adamantly insisted that it _did_ matter and had been horrified at all the things he had lost.

Regulus looked over at his cousin uncertainly for a moment, before broaching the subject that had been on his mind, "Cissy, how would you feel about me selling the Manor?"

Narcissa glanced at him sharply, "Black Manor?"

"Yes."

Black Manor – where his cousins had grown up – had been inherited by him following the death of his cousins’ parents, what with the estate being both entailed away from the female line and Sirius being overlooked as a blood traitor.

No one had lived in it.

He had offered it to Andromeda immediately following their reconciliation however she had turned him down flat, stating she didn't want to have anything to do with the place.

Narcissa, living in the far superior Malfoy Manor, also had no use for it and Bellatrix was in Azkaban.

So, Regulus had kept a hold of it – more out of respect for them, than anything else – opting first to sell Grimmauld Place when he was forming the Foundation.

Since then Black Manor had remained uninhabited and kept in reserve for whenever he needed extra funds.

Apparently, that time was to be now. Now that he’d found himself without a home – and he certainly had no wish to inhabit the place himself – he’d have to sell it.

The thought of hanging about for _months_ waiting on the insurance paying out not entirely feasible.

"I suppose it is up to you what you do with the place," Narcissa said, with such complete emotional detachment you’d have never have guessed it was her own childhood home, "I have no use of it."

"You wouldn't be upset?"

"Of course not. Why would I?”

"I'd give you some of the money. All of it, actually, if you –"

"Regulus, don't be ridiculous," she interrupted him, "You’re the one who needs it right now and _I_ certainly don't."

"But –"

She held up a hand, stopping him, "Regulus. _Really_. Do whatever you like with the place."

* * *

Severus found himself sitting at one of the tables in the Foundation gardens until late in the evening the following Wednesday, not at all eager to return to Hogwarts after spending the past five nights at the place.

What was once a place where he had often gone for solitude had now become a _nightmare_ and he was keen to begin the search for new lodgings as soon as possible.

Anywhere there wasn't the sound of children's voices, children's irritating laugher, the pattering – or worse _thudding –_ of _hundreds_ of footsteps.

Not to mention, _night duty_ supervision as assigned by Dumbledore...

He had been becoming more and more irritable as the week dragged on, remaining in his own office whenever he could, and the constant pestering for statements from the press were infuriating him to no end.

"Severus?"

He glanced up from the parchments he had been reading, only to find Lily Potter standing over him.

She offered him a smile in greeting.

"Mrs...Lily," he allowed himself to smile in return – the first time he had smiled all week, he was sure – and indicated the chair across from him.

"How are you?" she asked quickly, before she had even finished her descent onto the chair, "I read what happened in the Prophet. I'm so sorry."

Severus almost groaned – having been asked the same question, what felt like, a million times by everyone he had come into contact with – but forced himself to control his irritation and answered with a; "Quite fine."

"I haven't seen you all week. Have you been busy with the project?"

"Yes," he lied.

Because no, he _wasn't_. He was simply hiding from all the questions he had been receiving regarding this particular topic.

She looked uncomfortable as she glanced away, out over the scenery, as if she regretted sitting down, and Severus realised that he had appeared short with her and quickly went on, "How is your son?"

Lily looked at him sharply and, for a moment, he thought apprehension crossed her features.

Severus suddenly felt guilty – as the reason why she had run off the previous Friday fully settled itself in his mind – and he realised she likely had been enduring just as bad a week as he had.

And yet, here she was managing to contain any aggravation she may have been feeling perfectly.

"He's alright. Broken arm. Concussion. But the Healers had already tended to him by the time I arrived home."

"What happened?"

"He was flying. His broom caught a fence post."

Severus frowned in concern, "Oh. Well...he was lucky."

He almost cringed at the implication that the injury could have been more severe but she seemed not to notice.

"He's quite upset with me just now," Lily said, with a wry smile, "He's very determined for a six year old. Very stubborn."

"Can’t imagine where he gets that from."

She shot him a look and he failed to hold back a smirk, quickly looking down at the paper before him.

"What happened with the fire? Was it an accident?"

Severus glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, and answering, bluntly.

"No. It wasn't."

Lily looked concerned for a moment, considering his statement, before speaking, "So, someone may target you again?"

"I am not the target," Severus stated, straightening out his papers, "But I suppose the culprit would not object to my suffering also."

"Oh," she looked down – seeming to think more on what he had said – and the two of them were silent for a moment before she spoke again, a lighter note in her voice.

"Did you enjoy the party?" she changed the subject. Her eyes were teasing when he looked back at her, a reminder of their interaction together that night, and he felt himself fully relax at the memory.

Severus held her look a moment, lip twitching, before they both smiled; "I am not one for parties."

"True enough. Like you said some things never change. I _did_ find you hiding in the _bushes_ , after all."

"I was not hiding. I enjoy the peace. One would after spending more than four years attending such events every month."

"Anti-social much?"

"And are you one to criticise? What were you doing in the maze if not hiding yourself?"

"I've never been in a maze before. I was curious."

" _Curious_ , you say? Surely you knew what a maze was."

"Nothing beats experience, Severus."

Severus got a smirk, turning his attention back to the articles in his hands.

"It's getting late."

Severus glanced at his timepiece, reluctantly, still not keen on returning to the school.

"Yes, I suppose."

She frowned, "Where are you staying? Hogwarts?"

"Unfortunately," he fought back the urge to roll his eyes, "I find I can bear it so long as my days here are long."

She grinned, "It can't be that bad."

"I have no patience for children."

"I'm sure the students are not running around in your personal chambers, Severus," she pointed out, before going on with an amused look, "Perhaps you have chosen the wrong profession?"

Severus avoided her eyes at that.

She was regarding him peculiarly for a moment but he didn't allow himself to meet her eyes, forcibly reminding himself that he owed her nothing, no explanation for his reasons behind going to work at Hogwarts.

At that moment he heard the sound of her stomach rumbling and glanced at her in amusement.

She gave a sheepish smile, her cheeks turning slightly pink, putting a hand to her stomach, "Excuse me. Haven't eaten since lunch."

"We have a very fine bistro here for staff. There is no reason to starve yourself while you are working."

"I'm hardly starving," she laughed off his comment, "And yes, I’ve seen it, in fact."

"Have you eaten there?"

She shook her head.

"We have a Chef. He prepares far more satisfying meals than those prepared by the elves at Hogwarts," he felt his own hunger awaken at the thought of it.

"More satisfying than Hogwarts?" Lily looked sceptical, raising an eyebrow, "An impossible feat if there ever was one."

"Then prepare to be astonished.”

"Hmm, I'd like to see that proven," she glanced back in the direction of the Foundation, "Is the Bistro still open?"

"It closes at eleven."

Lily stood, abruptly, and he looked up at her with a confused frown. She waited, expectantly.

Severus’ frown deepened, as his confusion grew, "What?"

"Aren't you coming?"

"Coming where?"

"To the bistro," she rolled her eyes as she elaborated, "After such a _glowing_ recommendation, I simply _have_ to see it for myself," she added, before looking back at him with a look that suggested that _'no'_ would not be accepted as an answer.

He glanced down at the papers in his hands, papers he must have read at least five times each before, finding himself in the strange position of wishing both to immediately accept the invitation and join her and also the urge to decline and avoid putting himself in the precarious position of enjoying her company too much.

Obviously, the former won out.

Severus rolled up the articles, tying them together, and tucked them into his robes, standing as he did so.

She smiled brightly before waving an arm in the direction of the building, "Lead the way."

"I thought you said you knew where it was."

She rolled her eyes and leaned in to give him a playful shove in the right direction, urging him to walk on, and he found himself smiling again as they made their way towards the building.


	10. December 1986: Fathers and Sons

“I'm not a charity case. I don't need your money."

Regulus regarded his brother with barely concealed distain.

"I couldn't care less about your circumstances,” Regulus parted his clasped hands, raising his eyebrows; “I was only giving you what you were due when the settlement on Black Manor came in. You _are_ a Black, aren't you?"

"I don't need my little brother gloating and holding all his accomplishments over my head. Keep your damn money."

"It was Uncle Cygnus' money –"

"What about Andie? Or Narcissa Malfoy. You still keep in contact with _her_ , I'm guessing?"

"It's none of your business who I’m in contact with, Sirius.”

His brother's presence, alone, was enough to be an annoyance, never mind the self-righteous tone he often adopted around him.

"Though for the sake of argument and if it gets you out of my office any sooner, I'll let you know that their shares have been put into trusts for their kids, respectively."

Regulus gave a little scoff, when he added; “What a shame that in _your_ case the money will probably be wasted on firewhisky and Quidditch matches."

"Like you know anything about me, Regulus," Sirius seethed, "And it's not like _your_ son is lapping it up in a life of luxury due to _your_ success, is it?"

"What would you know about my son?" Regulus snapped.

"Only that, once again, you opt to take the easy way out rather than manning up and doing what's right –"

"You walked out the door, what, ten years ago? Like _you_ know anything about _me_."

"I don't need to know you. I read all about you in the Prophet. And I'm in contact with Andie, you probably forget."

"I don't forget. I'm just not interested. Now, if you don't mind, it's late and I have work to finish up. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Just take the damn money back."

"If you had half a brain you'd think to put the money in a trust for your Godson. James Potter Jr."

"Harry doesn't need your money either. I can take care of him just fine."

"Actually, I imagine it's the wages of his mother that are currently sustaining him and let's not forget where those come from."

"Could you be any more arrogant?"

Regulus scoffed; "Look who's talking."

Sirius went off on a rant that he barely listened to.

Something about him always doing what his parents wanted. Always doing what was expected of him rather than what he believed in or what he wanted to do.

He felt himself grow hot with irritation, unwillingly noting that most of that were actually true.

He had always been too concerned with the opinion of others – even now, he struggled with it – and much too concerned with doing what was _expected_. Allowing the world to tell him who he was supposed to be and forgetting who he actually was.

And wasn't that why he’d given Sirius the money in the first place – knowing that it would likely just lead to _this - b_ ecause it would have been _frowned_ upon by people - by _Andromeda_ , more specifically – if he hadn't?

"Get out, Sirius,” Regulus finally snapped, when Sirius’ ranted seemed nowhere near ending, and his patience was long since gone; “I have work to do. If you don’t want the money, that’s fine with me; my secretary will deal with it."

"Your secretary?" Sirius scoffed, looking around the room with an appraising eye; "You certainly _have_ done well for yourself, haven't you?"

His brother’s tone lacked any admiration, instead dripping with distain. 

"Well, I _was_ a Slytherin. Cunning, ambitious, etcetera."

"Among other things."

"If you don't _get out_ I'm going to call security."

"Keep your knickers on, Regulus, I'm leaving."

With that Sirius stormed over to the door, flinging it open so that it smashed into the bookcase dramatically – garnering the attention of everyone in the hallway on the other side of the door – before he strode out, leaving the door open behind him as he did so.

The Greeter, Elena Fitzherbert, hurried over to the door; "Is everything okay, Mr Black?"

"Oh, everything is just fine, Elena, if we ignore the goon," he forced a smile he was sure was not at all convincing; "Please, see to it that I am not disturbed for the rest of the evening."

"It is almost nine thirty, Sir."

"Won’t be long, Sweetheart."

She smiled and nodded, before pulling the door closed, leaving him to his thoughts.

Regulus hated seeing his brother.

Of being reminded of how things were when they were young – or, more specifically, of how _he_ was when he was young - of how he had been caught up in his parents politics and how his older brother had run away and left him to deal with the aftermath of their grief.

A face appeared in the fire.

"Mr Black?"

Regulus glanced at the fire, seeing Elena's face in it, and frowned.

"I thought I asked not to be disturbed?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry. But Professor Snape wished to remind you that you are to collect a young Malachi tonight?"

Malachi. Of course.

He almost groaned, glancing at his timepiece to confirm that, yes, it was nine thirty and he was supposed to have collected his son over an hour ago.

He thanked and dismissed her, before standing and beginning to gather his things.

Sometimes Regulus wondered what kind of joke the fates were playing on him by giving him a son.

What did he know about being a father?

His own was hardly a shining example, nor had his uncle been, so how on earth was he supposed to know what to do.

Sometimes Regulus felt as if he, himself, were the child.

e would do things – unbelievably stupid things – like when he dropped a bottle of milk in his little boy’s face when he was a baby, and Malachi would look at him with a smile and give him a hug, as if he were saying _'it's okay dad. I don't care that you're an idiot'._

His own father – Orion Black – had been successful also. He had had money, connections, respect, admiration.

And Orion Black had been a terrible father.

Regulus had been the perfect son.

And Regulus' _own_ son was the perfect son.

And here _he_ was. Successful, respected and admired.

And a terrible father just like his own before him.

* * *

Malachi followed his dad down the hallway of the new house – his dad and Severus’ new house – quietly, obedient, knowing to be on best behaviour, as his mum always told him to be, whenever he was spending time with his dad.

“Here you go, Beansprout!”

His dad shot him a wide smile, indicating the bedroom that had been allocated to him, with a flourish of a wave, and Malachi eagerly looked to see his new room.

He was disappointed – but not surprised – to find his room was, in fact, a guest bedroom, the same as it had been in his dad’s last house that had burned down – not one especially for him.

It was decorated in the way old people would decorate a room. Definitely not the greens or blues he would pick, himself.

Malachi remembered Malfoy Manor without really meaning to. He’d just been there for a visit, again, the week before and he’d seen all the rooms his cousin Draco had been given by his parents.

A reading room, a playroom _and_ a bedroom. He supposed that was because he lived with his mum and his dad; he had his own room at his mum's, after all.

He shook his head at himself for being selfish; _'some children don't have rooms of their own at all'_ his mother would say, reminding him that he was one of the lucky ones.

One of the lucky ones.

His mum said it to him frequently, almost like it was her that wanted to hear it, but he didn't really know what it meant.

His mum never explained to him who the _unlucky_ ones were.

Maybe the orphans his dad sometimes went to see? His dad saw them a lot. More than he saw _him_. But he was his dad and they didn't have a dad, so maybe that's what his mum meant. That he needed to share and not try to keep his dad all to himself.

Malachi did as he was told and kept out of his dad’s way as much as he could, going straight to sleep, and then spending time in the living room, quietly, the next afternoon, hoping he wasn’t annoying Severus by being there.

"Can I go outside?" Malachi asked Severus tentatively, when he’d finished four of the five books he’d brought with him.

Severus glanced over at him from the book he was reading.

"You had best ask your father."

"Where is he?"

Severus glanced at the door, looking annoyed, and for a minute Malachi wondered if he was angry at him.

"Regulus!"

From the way he shouted, Malachi knew it was actually his dad that he was mad at.

"What?" His dad appeared, also looking irritated.

Malachi guessed he didn't like being spoken to that way.

Severus raised an eyebrow, indicating in Malachi's direction, and his eyes softened when they met with his. Malachi looked nervously at his dad, who regarded him with some concern.

"You alright, Beansprout?"

"Uh huh," he nodded, "I just wanted to go outside."

"I'm a little busy just now," his dad said, kneeling down in front of him, his arm around him as if he was younger than he actually was, "Can you wait until later?"

"It'll be dark soon," he pointed out, "I can go out myself. Mum lets me."

"Does she?"

He nodded.

"Um..." his dad looked at Severus, who shrugged, and then back at him.

He gave him one of his smiles that weren’t real.

"Well, okay then. If your mum lets you. Just stay close to the house, okay?"

He nodded.

Regulus smiled and ruffled his hair.

Malachi grinned and hurried past him and out the door, eager to explore the new garden outside.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Sirius asked, as the three of them prepared to leave for the visit to St Mungo’s.

Lily _wasn't_ sure.

But after spending the past fortnight trying to convince him that she _was_ – following his less-than-enthusiastic response to the idea – she didn't want to take any steps backwards and admit that she was having doubts about taking Harry to see James.

"Yes, it’s for the best. Harry’s starting to ask questions. I really think he's ready," she said, with a certainty that she didn't feel.

"Lily," his tone was full of concern as he stood from the chair and approached her, "If you're not sure –"

"We've already told Harry. We can't change our minds now."

"I wouldn't be changing my mind," he said, reminding her of their previous conversations, and she found herself becoming irritated as she mused that she never seemed to do anything right by Harry in his eyes anymore; every decision she made was being second guessed and questioned by him.

Add to that her son's obvious attachment, even more so to Sirius than to her, and she found herself once again musing on her choice to remain in that house, the three of them.

"Is it time to go?" Harry bounded down the stairs with the typical excitement of a six year old and hurried over to them.

"It's cold out,” she told him, giving him a smile, “You better put on your jumper."

"But I wanted to wear this," he looked down at the t-shirt he was wearing; red and gold stripes; "It's like Gryffindor colours. They're his favourites, aren't they?"

Lily smiled, feeling reassured by the keenness Harry was expressing regarding seeing James.

She had expected resistance – following their previous conversation – but, instead, Harry had agreed eagerly and had been impatient to go ever since.

"If you wear your red one, you can keep the t-shirt on underneath, and then take it off once we arrive at the hospital so he can see it," she suggested, as she pulled on her cloak.

Harry seemed to think on the suggestion for a moment before he nodded and hurried up the stairs to retrieve the item.

"Lily." Sirius was at her side again, speaking quietly, and she gave an irritated sigh as he went on; "Really, I don't think he's ready. What's the point? James can't even –"

"You don't know that, Sirius," she interrupted him.

"Look, I'm worried about you, okay?" he went on, "You're still not dealing with what's going on here. And the last thing we need is to bring Harry into –"

She turned around, hissing at him quietly, because they were both wary about raising their voices to one another following the events that sent Harry running to Remus.

"You think I don't know the situation; I do! Pardon me for not giving up as easily as you."

"Easily? It's been five years!"

"I'm ready!"

Lily started at Harry’s voice, while Sirius quickly moved away from her, her son’s presence successfully nipping the argument in the bud.

"Are you coming, Uncle Sirius?"

Harry was looking at him with a frown, noting that his uncle had not yet donned his cloak. Sirius glanced in her direction for a brief moment before forcing at smile at him.

"Of course, I am."

Harry visibly relaxed and broke into a wide smile, before he grabbed Lily by the hand and tugged her towards the door.

"Let's go!"

* * *

Malachi carried out playing out in the garden, Regulus watching from the window, unsure of whether or not to go and join him.

"I'm not very good at this," he said, mostly to himself.

Severus, of course, felt the need to answer, not bothering to look up from his book.

"I have noticed."

Severus could be a bastard when he wanted to, Regulus thought as he glanced at him, bitterly. though he knew Severus would not be sympathetic before so spoke, so he continued to voice his concerns, regardless of the comment.

"I'm a terrible father."

"Only you can change that."

Regulus knew the statement was true.

That the only person with the ability to change what was happening between himself and his son – the distance that he knew his little boy was so eager to close – was him.

But the same question always came to mind.

"Where do I start?"

"I'm afraid I know little on the subject of rearing children."

"You do alright with Malachi."

"Entertaining him. _Reluctantly,_ I might add, when his father fails to make his appearances. I am not raising him.”

"Yeah, well, I could use some advice on the matter, Sev. You _are_ his Godfather."

"I would not want to overstep my boundaries.”

"You wouldn't be."

"It is none of my business how you raise your own child, Regulus,” Severus said, impatiently – unhelpfully – and went on, “The decisions regarding your child's boundaries are your own. Unless Evelyn tells you otherwise."

"They're not here; you are. I could really use your back-up when he's staying here."

"I will continue to entertain him when the occasion calls for it. But discipline, boundaries and being a father – that is your role, Regulus. And it is something you are just going to have to learn and that is not something you will be able to do if you frequently avoid spending time with him."

Regulus looked away, shame finding him once again, as it often did.

Not an unfamiliar feeling, of course – he lived with shame every day – but there was something different when it related to Malachi. It was something deeper and more troubling.

In fact, it was easier, even, to repent for what he had done during the war than it was to repent for the wrongs he had committed against his son.

It was easier to bury himself in the Foundation and everything that came along with that because he was making a difference, he knew he was, and he was good at it. But people could go on without him if he failed at that.

The organisation would survive without him.

But Malachi, he was his son. He depended on him completely. It was frightening, particularly considering how terrible he was at it. His chances of failing were higher, more likely, and his boy would pay the price.

And then Regulus shook himself with a roll of the eyes because, frankly, he was failing his son now.

What else could he possibly do wrong by him?

* * *

Harry let go of his mum’s hand, when they reached the door to his dad’s room.

He didn’t want his dad to think he was a _baby,_ holding his mum’s hand like Ginny Weasley still did whenever he went to visit them at the Burrow,

Harry had butterflies and was hopping from one foot to another impatiently, as he waited to be taken into the room. He felt his mum's hand on his shoulder, and then she was kneeling in front of him, both hands on each of his arms.

He frowned, noticing the worried look she was giving him, and his tummy dropped – the butterflies going away – when he worried she might have changed her mind and decided he wasn’t getting to go in.

"Harry, you remember what Uncle Sirius and I told you about your dad?"

He felt himself become annoyed because, _obviously_ , he still remembered.

They had told him lots and lots of times for the last two weeks, ever since his mum had said they were getting to go.

That his dad can't talk; that it might look like he's not listening, but he is; he can't take your hand, but you can take his.

"Yes," he said, impatiently, "Can we go in?"

The way she was looking at him made him think they weren't.

They were just going to stand there, staring at each other, while his dad was just seconds away; his dad.

He would finally see him.

He would get to talk to him at last.

"You said I could see him!"

His mum and Sirius looked at one another with the same worried looks and then his uncle reached for his hand.

Harry squeezed it and then released it quickly. He'd look just as childlike holding his uncle’s hand as he would his mum's.

Finally, his mum pushed down the handle of the door and walked into the room.

Harry shrugged Sirius' hand off his shoulder as he followed, eagerly.

Lily glanced back at him and gave him a small smile, before she sat down on the bed next to the figure that lay still beneath the covers.

Harry stared at him.

The stranger – his dad – stared back, his eyes seeming to look through him.

"James," his mum was saying, past Harry’s unexpected unease, "Sirius and I brought someone to see you."

She glanced back at Harry again and reached out a hand towards him.

Harry hesitated – his eyes remaining on the still figure – but he slowly made his way to his mum’s side when he felt his Uncle Sirius give him a gentle nudge in her direction.

His mum’s arm came up around his shoulders and, forgetting his earlier wish to appear grown up, he leaned into her, surprised how much better he felt to be close to her.

The figure wasn't quite staring at him anymore. He was staring towards the side of him, down towards the floor, at nothing.

"Harry, this is Dad," his mum whispered, squeezing his shoulder.

"Looks just like you, doesn't he, Prongs?"

Harry frowned at that, looking more closely at the man in front of him, trying to see if he could see himself.

He didn't think he looked like him. This man didn't even look like the man in the pictures.

"How come he doesn't have his glasses on?" Harry asked, quietly.

But then Harry thought that wouldn't make a difference – it wouldn’t make Harry look like him – because _he_ didn't wear glasses either.

But his dad did.

Harry knew from the pictures.

"Where are they?"

"He doesn't need them right now, Sweetheart."

"But his eyes are open. Can't he see?"

His mum's arm tightened around him and she kissed him on the side of the head.

"Do you want him to put his glasses on? They're right here."

His mum's hands were shaking when they reached towards a drawer on the nightstand and her movements made his dad's body move on the bed and his gaze was directed straight at him again.

Harry quickly pushed away the sudden urge to cry.

He wouldn't cry. He was six. He wouldn't let his dad see him cry.

His mum leaned back from the drawer, a pair of glasses he recognised from the photographs in her hand.

She gave them to him, "You can put them on, if you like."

Harry looked down at the glasses, biting his lip, before he shook his head and handed them back to her.

"You do it," he whispered.

She did as he asked, leaning up and slipping them on, and he suddenly looked more like the man he recognised from the pictures but that only made Harry feel _worse_.

"Smart kid you've got there, Prongs. Me and Lily didn't even think to put them on you."

Harry felt himself become irritated at his Uncle Sirius' statement.

Why was he saying that?

Why was he saying _anything_?

This was stupid. His dad couldn’t hear them.

Harry felt the prickle of tears in his eyes again.

"He is. Top of his class, isn't that right?" his mum was speaking with a cheerfulness that she obviously didn't feel and he felt his irritation grow.

Both of them were treating him like a baby and there was a stranger staring at him and he wanted to cry.

"Great on a broom as well. Takes it after you. Tell him Harry," his Uncle Sirius said, giving him a nudge.

Harry drew in a trembling breath, looking at the man they were telling him was his dad, but couldn't find the words.

"Harry," his mum whispered, now, in the voice she always had when she was worried about him.

"He's not usually this shy, Mate. Maybe if you quit your staring he'll say something."

Joking.

That was too much.

Harry turned quickly and looked up at him, his eyes glistening with tears that he could no longer hold back, and the smile on his uncle's face – which he was sure wasn't real in the first place – crumbled and he was looking at Harry so sadly he almost couldn't speak.

"Why are you talking like that? He can't help it!"

"Harry –"

"You're talking to him like he can talk. You keep telling me he can't talk, so why are you talking like he can?"

Both his mum's arms were around him now, both of them facing in Sirius' direction rather than the man in the bed, and he felt better to not be looking at him anymore.

But he knew he was still behind him. There but not.

"Harry, I'm sorry. Sometimes it's easier to pretend that he can," his Uncle Sirius said, which didn't make any sense.

"Why are you pretending? It's not a game."

"Harry," his mum's murmured, and her hand was stroking his head and he felt like he was going to start crying, for real, not just the tears that were beginning to spill out and he looked at her desperately.

"I wanna go home."

And suddenly his mum was on her feet, and he was in her arms, and she was struggling to lift him but she didn't put him down until they were back in the corridor.

When the door slammed shut behind them, he burst into tears against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," his mum murmured against him, over and over, as she held him close, and he heard her crying as if she was trying to stop herself.

Harry didn't understand why.

How could she _not_ cry?

He had never felt more like crying in his life.

He felt Sirius kneel down beside them and his hand stroking his hair.

He sobbed against his mum like he hadn't done since he was little, really little. And he wondered if his dad could hear him through the door and then realised he didn't care and that it didn't matter because his dad wasn't there.

That wasn't his dad; his dad was gone.

Why didn't his mum and his uncle see that?

* * *

"It was like he was dead."

Lily winced at the statement, glancing in the direction of the door to the room where her son was talking to Remus.

"He's still there. He just can't –"

"Uncle Sirius once said that his soul was gone. He was right. Why does he speak to him when he knows he's not there?"

Lily walked away from the doorway, lifting a dish and beginning to dry it with an old but never-before used dish towel.

They were more for show in the house as it was far easier to just flick her wand and have the cleaning up dealt with but, often, when she found herself becoming restless or distressed about something it helped to do things the muggle way. Do some dishes, get out the vacuum cleaner or polish the surfaces.

Sirius used to look at her like she was crazy the first few times she had done it but, by now, he was accustomed to it.

It was a form of pretending. Pretending that everything was normal. That she was normal. That her life was normal.

She rarely wished for that, of course.

At times like those she would think of Petunia, living a completely separate life with her husband and her own son.

A life free of the war, the prejudices, the troubles, the loss.

She envied her, sometimes. Not often. But sometimes.

It had been a few days since she had taken Harry to see James.

He hadn't spoken about it since that night. He had barely spoken at all.

Sirius had assured her that he would be fine; that he would get over the shock and would be able to deal with it better the next time.

If there would be a next time.

Harry hadn't asked to return and Lily wasn't sure if she wanted to take the risk of a repeat the past weekend's disaster.

Her decision to take him hadn't been for his benefit.

It had been selfish.

It was _her_ who had wanted that bond – James and Harry, her husband and her son – and it was she who had insisted that James was his father and that he couldn't think of any other in that role.

She released a shuddering breath, as she was once again shaken by the fact that James was slipping further away. In her mind, at least. How often had she thought that recently? That he wouldn't return?

She felt a lump in her throat and a guilty jolt at the thought; she had promised to never give up.

The door to the kitchen creaked open and she turned as Remus offered a smile and walked into the room. She put down the items she was holding.

"How is he?"

"A little confused. But he'll be fine," Remus said, reassuringly.

She gave him a small smile as a means of thanking him and lowered her eyes.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"What about you?"

Lily raised her eyes to glance at him, then shrugged and looked away, "I'm fine."

She walked by him, into the living room, glancing around and finding no sight of Harry, before she took a seat on the couch.

A moment later she felt Remus sit down next to her.

"You're not _fine_ , Lily. You don't have to act like you are."

She gave a humourless smile, clasping her hands together, "That's one of the things Harry got so upset about when we took him. That Sirius and I were pretending everything was okay. That James could hear us."

She shrugged, glancing down, "Harry doesn't think he can."

"Do you?"

She was silent for a moment, not certain how to respond to the question. Before she glanced over and met his eyes.

She shook her head; "I don't know anymore."

He held her look a moment, his eyes full of understanding and compassion, before he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

"It's okay."

"No," she shook her head, looking away from him, "No, it's not okay, Remus. I...I made a promise to myself, to Harry that..."

"I know. But you can't keep holding on, waiting for something that may never happen. Look at how it's affecting you. How it's affecting Harry. You can't go on like this, Lily.."

She swallowed, looking down, "What if I can't, Remus...what if I can't stop?"

It came out quieter, more unsure than she had expected. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

"You can," he said, with a certainty that she almost believed him, "You will. But first, you just have to be willing to let go."

She thought on what he had said a moment, uncertainly, almost frightened at the idea of letting it go.

After all this time, what did she have, what would she _do_ if she were to let go of that hope?

The hope that one day she would get her family back.

Everything she had done – everything she was doing – was for James. To put her family back together.

Lily drew in a breath before she spoke; "I don't know if I want to."

She caught Remus nod out the corner of her eye and then felt his arm wrap around her shoulder and she leaned into him, allowing herself to seek the comfort she had craved since all the troubles with Harry and Sirius had started.

"It'll be okay,” he told her, again. In that same reassuring tone that he always got, that almost made her believe it.

Lily sighed before she drew back, looking up at him.

“And what about you, Remus?"

He frowned slightly, looking down at her, "What about me?"

"When are _you_ going to let go?"

He looked confused for a moment, before his eyes cleared in realisation and he averted his eyes.

"That's different."

"Yes," she agreed, "With Sirius you still have a chance to make things right."

"Maybe I don't want that."

"But why wouldn't you? You say holding onto James is damaging to me – well, look at what this grudge is doing to you.”

"It's not the same thing," he insisted, though his eyes were sad when they returned to hers, "I trusted him. He betrayed me. That's where it ends."

"It doesn't have to."

"You don't understand, Lily," he shook his head, "I mean, how could you? Look at me, I'm...I'm a..." he looked away, drawing in a breath, "I've never been proud of what I am. And I've always known that I would be...judged. But it was different with them. With James and Sirius," he hesitated, adding almost reluctantly, "And Peter. They accepted me. At least, I thought they did."

"They did," she touched his shoulder, and he glanced at her, "We _all_ did."

He gave a humourless smile.

"Not completely though. I was completely loyal to you, all of you – I would have died before I'd let anything happen to any of you – but in the end it didn't matter. All that mattered was what I was. What I am."

"Remus, no one thinks that," she sighed, "We were just scared. We made a really bad, a really _stupid_ decision. And it cost us James."

"It was Sirius who –"

"No," she said, quickly stopping him, "No, it wasn't. It was all of us," she looked at him, remorsefully, "I'm so sorry." His eyes seemed to soften, so she went on; "So is Sirius."

He only looked at her for a moment before he averted his eyes.

"I'm worried about him, too, Remus."

Remus sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the corner of the room.

"He's distant. Withdrawn. Ever since Peter escaped from Azkaban he's been pulling away," she leaned forward, encouraging him to look at her, "I'm scared he's going to do something. Something really stupid."

"Something, like, go after him? It's bound to happen sooner or later. The aurors haven't made any progress and it's been weeks."

"Going after him is one thing. What he does if he finds him is another. He could end up in Azkaban if he kills him, or, worse, he could end up dead if Peter..."

Remus glanced at her, before he shrugged, and Lily felt herself grow frustrated.

"Remus, _talk_ to him. He must...he probably feels like he's alone in this. If you and he could finally resolve your differences –"

"I need more time, Lily."

"Five years isn't enough time?"

He looked at her with an ironic raise of the eyebrow and she shook her head, averting her eyes.

"He won't listen if it's just me. Especially if it’s me. I'm really scared for him, Remus."

When he didn't respond Lily turned and glanced up at him.

Remus held her look, looking at her strangely for a moment, before he sighed, surrendering.

“I'll talk to him."

She smiled.

"Thank you."

He shrugged, glancing down. He suddenly looked lonelier than she had ever seen him and, feeling a swell of love and compassion for her close friend, she squeezed the hand he still held.

"Remus, you have to stop thinking about what happened. You have to let it go because you’re clinging onto things – things you believe – that just aren’t true.”

"Like what?"

"That we judge you based on that – we have _eever_ judged you based on that – and I've never looked at you and seen that side of you. I know who you are. You're a good man."

He held her look, a vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely showed.

"To be honest, coming from you...well, it's hardly reassuring. You always see the best in people."

"That's not entirely true," she said, pensively, Severus suddenly coming to mind at his statement. He came to mind a lot, she realised, before she found Remus looking at her searchingly and she quickly pushed thoughts of Severus away.

"It's pretty obvious to see with you, Remus," she spoke with a lighter tone now, "I mean you're a big softie –"

"A softie?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, "Thanks."

She chuckled.

"It _is_ meant as a compliment. I mean, look how good you are with Harry. He loves you so much. You're so patient, so much more than Sirius and I. And you're kind and reliable. You're always there when he needs you. When _I_ need you."

She looked at him with a small smile.

"I don't know what I would have done without you these past five years, Remus."

It was meant as a declaration of friendship. Though she would reflect back later and realise how her words may how sounded – how they could have been taken – and how, it seemed, they _were_ taken.

Because Remus held her eyes a little longer, with a look he had never given her – a look she hadn't received in a _very_ long time – and, before she could really comprehend where she had seen it before and what it meant, Remus' lips pressed softly against hers.

* * *

" _What?"_

Lily glanced at Julia over her coffee, blushing with embarrassment.

"Are you serious? Oh my God! Why would he do that?"

"I don't know!" Lily burst out, before shaking her head and pressing the palm of her hand to her face, "I mean, we've had conversations like that before but never, _never_ has it even come close to –" she cut off and shook her head, unable to repeat what she had just told her.

Julia was laughing with devilish delight at her predicament and Lily felt her face burning as she glanced around the cafe at the various occupants who were making surreptitious glances in their direction.

"So?" Julia finally managed to choke out, as she attempted to regain her breath.

"So?" Lily reiterated, with a confused frown.

"So..." Julia was grinning widely, "What was it like?"

Lily rolled her eyes at the juvenile question, suddenly feeling like she was back at Hogwarts, before she stated the only word that could possibly describe the feelings the kiss had evoked.

"Incest, Julia."

Julia appeared to lose the tiny bit of self-control she had restored previously and fell into another fit of laughter, as Lily reasserted, "It was like incest."

"Oh!" Julia pressed a hand to her chest, bubbles of laughter continuing to erupt from her, "Oh, poor Remus!"

"Poor Remus, indeed," Lily rolled her eyes and lifted her coffee mug to her lips, taking a sip, trying not to laugh as Julia continued giggling.

Lily had never been more thankful to have Julia as a friend.

She certainly could never have spoken to _Sirius_ about what had happened and the horror she had felt when she had realised that yes, Remus was, in fact, kissing her and had almost leapt from the couch like a jumping jack when her senses had confirmed it.

"Are you alright?" Julia asked, with no concern whatsoever, as she continued to giggle with unabashed delight.

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn't help a grin that tugged at her lips.

"I'm fine. Thanks for your concern."

"I do hope he was gentle, it must have been a while," Julia said, tightly, through giggles, making Lily blush a deeper shade of pink.

"Okay, let's change the subject.”

Lily wondered how she could face Remus again, after this, remembering how she had quickly insisted he leave and rushed off to 'tend to Harry' – a ridiculous excuse to run from the room, but she wasn't thinking correctly at the time.

If she _had_ been, she would have realised the sensible thing to do would have been to calmly ask him what the hell he thought he was doing and explain the boundaries of their friendship and he would apologise and dismiss the whole thing and they would laugh and, afterwards, it would be if it had never happened.

But _now_ there was only the promise of awkwardness and an uncomfortable secret she had to keep from Sirius.

But Lily supposed that, at least, her thoughts regarding the incident had been made perfectly clear to him and she suddenly felt guilty that she had rejected him so forcefully.

So _juvenilely_.

That would hardly do anything for his self-esteem.

"Do you think that he's always..." Julia let the remark trail off and Lily glanced at her, feeling incredibly uncomfortable at the idea.

"No," she said, as she shook her head, "No, I'm sure it was all just...'in the moment'. That sort of thing."

Julia was grinning again.

"Isn't it funny how one person can be completely in the moment, when the other person really isn't feeling it?"

"No, funny it was not," Lily said, swallowing nervously, "Besides, I had no idea that's what he was thinking."

"You seem nervous," Julia stated, looking at her carefully, "Guilty, even."

Lily lowered her eyes, unconsciously glancing in the direction of her wedding ring, and she heard Julia sigh.

"It's okay, Lily. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, I know," she nodded, lifting her head and sitting straighter, as if to assert that she had nothing to be ashamed of, "It was so brief. In fact, it was barely a kiss."

Julia offered a small smile, before she went on hesitantly, "No...I mean, yes that may have been the case but..." she was looking at her carefully, "Well, you know if you _did_ kiss him back. It's nothing to feel guilty about or ashamed of."

"I have a husband," Lily said, though it sounded weaker than she intended, and she went on more assertively, "And Remus is one of his best friends."

"Well...okay, yes. He is. I...suppose that makes it questionable," Julia conceded, before she went on, "But, if it had been someone else. And you had _wanted_ it," Julia tilted her head at her, "It wouldn't be a bad thing, Lily."

Lily avoided her eyes and wished she could just as easily avoid the direction the conversation was taking.

"I've...never kissed anyone since James."

"A dry spell if ever there was one," Julia raised an eyebrow, "So you haven't..." she looked at her, appraisingly.

"No!" Lily blushed, "How could I? I'm –"

"Married," Julia nodded, though her expression seemed to suggest she thought otherwise, "Didn't you say that you and Remus were talking about moving on? He was telling you to let go. He's not all wrong there. Don't worry, I'm not going to kiss you," she added, hastily, with a grin.

Lily chuckled and shook her head, "It's not something I can just _do_ out of nowhere, Jules."

"I know," Julia looked at her sympathetically, "Look, I can't even begin to know what you're going through. But you're a great person, Lily. It's...it's just ashame to see you so...closed off."

"Closed off?"

"You know, to the idea of moving on. Of...maybe finding someone else."

Lily held her look for a moment, contemplating what she was saying.

Was she telling her to give up? To cut her loses and move on?

Find someone else.

It was almost incomprehensible to her.

And, to be honest, she really didn't think she had the energy to go through it all again. Meeting someone new. Letting herself be vulnerable. All those insecurities about whether or not feelings were returned. Where the relationship was going. Yes, she remembered it all very well.

It was one of the most draining experiences ever.

"I haven't ever thought about finding anyone else."

"Well, you never will if you hold on to this..." Julia shrugged, not able to put the situation into words, "I just think that you're, what, twenty six years old? And, if you look at the bigger picture, you've still got your whole life ahead of you," she paused until Lily met her eyes, "It's a long time to be alone."

Lily glanced away from her, avoiding the temptation to remind Julia that she, also, was alone – happily so – so life couldn't be all that bad without a man around.

Instead Lily nibbled on her bottom lip, catching it between her teeth, before she responded.

"Like you said, I've still got my whole life. I've got time."

"Maybe you'll find someone at the Gala next week." Julia said as she winked.

"Did you manage to get the night off?" Lily eagerly accepted the chance to change the topic of conversation.

"I did," her friend grinned, "I wouldn't miss this for the world! There are some pretty impressive people at your work, if I do say so myself, people whose acquaintance I should dearly like to continue."

Lily raised her eyebrow.

"Such as?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Julia said, with mock coyness, "Though I shall _never_ forgive you for not introducing me to Severus Snape at the last event."

"I barely saw him myself."

"Oh really?"

"Well, not at the party."

Julia was looking at her with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I seem to remember the two of you emerging together from the make-out maze."

"The ' _make-out maze'_?" Lily repeated, "No one calls it that."

"Well, its uses are rather well known.”

"We both entered separately and came across one another accidently."

"Well, try not to keep him all to yourself this time."

Julia's eyes were sparkling, and Lily found herself blushing for no valid reason.

"I hardly keep him to myself. You are welcome to him."

Lily didn't know why but she regretted saying it the moment the words escaped her.

But she pushed aside – what she assumed to be – her juvenile possessiveness of her old friend and smiled as she remembered a particularly amusing comment he had made the evening before when they had dined in the Bistro.

"Can't wait."


	11. December 1986: Let the Games Begin

"Is Uncle Remus staying here tonight?"

"Get down from there." Lily agitatedly swatted a hand at her son, who was sitting on top of one of the counters in the kitchen, "Yes, he is. If your Uncle Sirius doesn't get home until late."

"Why? Where's Uncle Sirius?"

Harry approached where she was sitting at the table, finishing applying her makeup for the evening.

"He’s at the Ministry," she said, one eye closed as she brushed over the lid with a makeup brush.

“How come?”

“They asked him to come in to speak to them.”

Harry frowned.

"About what? Is he in trouble?"

Lily smiled at him, reassuringly, "No, Sweetheart. They just needed some information on someone they're trying to find."

Harry glanced over her, appraisingly, "You look nice."

Lily's smile widened, "Thank you."

"How come I can't come to the party?" he asked, frowningly, "I like parties."

"It's not that kind of a party. This one is just for grownups," she stated, with a sympathetic look at his disappointment, "But you have a Christmas Party at school soon, too, don't you?"

"On Tuesday, when school stops. There’s a play – they made me Joseph – will you come?”

Lily glanced at him, hesitantly, knowing that it would near impossible for her to get the time off work to do so.

A knock at the door spared her from answering – indicating Remus' arrival – as Harry eagerly ran to the door to greet him.

Lily nervously brushed down her dress and began packing away her cosmetic bag, attempting to still her nerves.

Remus had avoided her completely following the incident the previous week and, frankly, Lily was glad of the fact. Only, now, the lengthier time it had taken either of them to address it – the kiss – only made seeing one another again, that night, more awkward.

"Will you come to my play, Uncle Remus?" Harry was saying to Remus, as the two of them entered the kitchen.

"I wouldn’t miss it, Harry."

Remus was smiling when he came in, though it seemed to tighten a little when she met his eyes before he glanced away, looking sheepish.

"Hi Lily."

"Hello Remus," she forced a smile and stood, continuing to tidy up the mess on the table.

"Thank you so much for doing this," she added, avoiding his eyes, "It really was quite unexpected when Sirius was called away."

"Oh, it's no problem," he said, quickly, "I'm happy to do it."

"Uncle Sirius got me a new board game!" Harry announced, tugging on Remus' sleeve, "We can play it first, okay? I'll go and get it!"

Harry hurried from the room, leaving them alone.

Lily kept her eyes lowered as she moved around the kitchen, feeling Remus' eyes follow her every move.

After a few breaths that indicated he wanted to speak, he finally did.

"Lily."

"Hmm?" she picked up the dish towel and began drying some already-dry plates that were on the rack next the sink.

"Um...Lily, can I talk to you?" Remus stepped in next to her and she forced herself to look up at him. Another forced smile as she indicated with a hand that he should continue.

“I – um – I was out of line when I … with what I did,” Remus said, nervously, reddening as he spoke, “Please, let me apologise for – well. I’m sorry. I should never have done that.”

"Oh," she looked away, waving a hand dismissively, "It's okay, Remus."

"Really?"

"Yes. Well...I mean, I suppose it _wasn't_ but, you know –“ she shrugged, “ – you and me, we're okay.”

"Oh. Well, good. I mean, if you're sure?"

"Yes, I am. Really. We can just forget it ever happened."

"Oh, okay."

A silence fell over the two of them, as they stood side by side, tensely, neither of them really moving.

Lily drew in a breath and risked a glance at him and, feeling her eyes on him, Remus looked down and met her eyes. The two of them held one another's look for a moment – this awkwardness suddenly seeming so _ridiculous_ after all that they had been through – and Lily cracked a smile.

Remus looked surprised for a second – quickly picking up on her amusement – before a smile spread across his face, too, and then, suddenly, they were both laughing and shaking their heads at their own embarrassment.

"I really am sorry, Lily," he insisted, through their laughter, "I honestly don't know what came over me."

"It's okay, you...you don't have to explain," she held up a hand, stopping him with a smile, "We don't have to make it into this big thing."

"Oh good," he nodded, "Good. I...I hoped it wouldn't change anything."

"No," she shook her head, "No, it doesn't. Like I said, we can just pretend it never happened."

"Good," he nodded, with an embarrassed smile, "Good."

A knock sounded at the door, before it was promptly opened.

"Lily?" Julia's voice called out.

"Kitchen," she called back, before turning back to Remus and giving him a friendly smile, "And thanks again for taking Harry tonight."

"You don’t have to thank me for that, Lily, I’m happy to do it –"

"Hey Remus!" Julia smiled brightly as she walked into the room, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Hello Julia," Remus smiled at her, suddenly looking even more at ease, "You look very nice tonight."

Julia cocked an eyebrow at him, before addressing Lily.

"What a gentleman."

"Oh indeed? He never complimented me on my appearance," Lily teased, and Remus looked caught off guard before he grinned, shyly.

"You look very nice too, Lily."

"Where's Harry?" Julia gave the room a quick once-over.

"Upstairs digging out a new board game that Sirius has been spoiling him with."

"Ah. Well, I'll just pop upstairs and say hello –"

"Julia!" Harry hurried into the room, quickly handing the game he was holding to Remus, and jumped into Julia's arms with a bright smile.

"Hey, little man," she spun him around, "Spending the night with your uncles, are you?"

"Uncle Sirius is busy."

"Busy?" Julia widened her eyes dramatically, eliciting a giggle from him, "Well, I suppose you'll just have to make to most of that boring old fart not being around, won't you?"

Harry chuckled; "Uncle Sirius isn't boring."

"Oh, and here I was thinking he sent you to bed at eight o' clock."

"Only on school nights. Mum and Uncle Remus make me go to bed then too."

Julia shot Lily a mock look of disgust and rolled her eyes, before she plopped Harry back down to the floor; "We'll have to arrange a play date just you and me sometime. I could fill a whole book with pranks that kids your age love to pull. I'll show you a _real_ good time."

"Please stop corrupting my son," Lily raised an eyebrow at her, before leaning down to give Harry a kiss, "Take no notice of Julia. Be good for Uncle Remus tonight. I don't want to hear of any mischief."

Harry nodded, obediently, though grinned when he glanced in Julia's direction, as Lily addressed Remus.

"I shouldn't be too late."

"No need to rush home. We'll be fine," Remus smiled, putting a hand on her son's shoulder.

Lily smiled in response, glad that the two of them had successfully dispelled any awkwardness that may have lingered between them.

* * *

"I heard that you’ll be joining us at Malfoy Manor for Christmas this year."

Severus nodded at Evelyn's statement, taking a drink from his glass.

"Yes. Christmas at Hogwarts – I must admit – is not an event I am keen to repeat."

She smiled in response, "Well, I'm sure children cannot be all that unbearable. Malachi is rather fond of you. As is Draco Malfoy, from what Narcissa has told me."

He waved a dismissive hand.

"That is different. Malachi is my Godson and Draco is the son of close friends. The children at Hogwarts are also significantly older and are all keen to assert their own individuality in a way that is entirely insufferable and troublesome and I find myself spending more time disciplining than I do teaching."

She gave a demure smile and glanced around the ballroom, the atmosphere of which was becoming livelier as time went on and the band began to play.

"Did you enter for anything in the silent auction?"

"No," Severus shook his head, "I do not enter the competitions put on by the Foundation. I am quite certain that if there ever _were_ something that would appeal to me, it will be a hoax that Regulus has set up with the very intention of mortifying me in a very public way."

Evelyn laughed, softly, rolling her eyes, "You two. You are like children yourselves."

"It is Regulus who is the child. I have little option but to respond as such when faced with him."

He noticed her eyebrows raise with interest and glanced in the direction she was looking; Lily Potter walking into the room, talking animatedly with a woman he didn't recognise.

"Is that Lily Potter?"

Severus glanced at her, sharply, with a frown, "You know her?"

"No," she was looking at him with a slight, knowing smile, "But Regulus has told me about her. You and she are good friends, he said?"

"Is that all he said, dare I ask?" Severus rolled his eyes, fully aware that Regulus would have relayed whatever nonsense their colleagues had been gossiping about the past few weeks.

"I should like to meet her."

Severus looked at her suspiciously, before he indicated with his hand that she should go and introduce herself.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at his bad manners and he rolled his eyes, holding out an arm to her, and made his way towards Lily and her companion, reluctantly, wondering if his approach would encourage more incessant interest and assumptions from those present, that had arisen in light of their recent lunches in the Bistro.

Lily turned, catching his eye as he drew closer, and her expression brightened in recognition.

"Severus!"

The woman next to her spun around, expression full of interest, and he found himself smiling at the look of genuine pleasure in Lily's expression at seeing him.

"Lily, hello," he nodded, inclining his head in Evelyn's direction, "This is Evelyn Redway, she wished to meet you. Evelyn, Lily Potter."

The two of them smiled, shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, while Severus found the woman at Lily's side looking at him appraisingly with a slight smile, before Lily spoke again.

"This is my friend, Julia Bradbury. Jules, this is –"

"Professor Snape," the woman – Miss Bradbury – interrupted, with a wide smile and held her hand out to him.

Severus nodded, taking her hand in his.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bradbury."

"Please, call me Julia. I've heard so much about you during my Internship, we’ve just been looking into the components of the potions you invented to vaccinate against Dragon Pox."

Severus felt himself redden at the admiration in her tone and expression, finding no words available to graciously respond, so simply nodded.

Julia appeared disarmed by his lack of response, glancing at Lily questioningly for a moment, before she turned back with another smile.

"Lil’ tells me that you've really been helping her a lot with work. What with her skipping her internship and everything. A life saver, apparently."

Severus smiled and shook his head, dismissively, "I have guided her somewhat. But she is too modest. I am sure she would have coped well enough without any help."

An awkward silence descended over them and Severus found himself wishing he hadn't approached.

* * *

Nymphadora squealed in delight as Regulus spun her around the dancefloor, gathering up speed in time to the music, and the others on the floor chuckled and scattered out of their way, before the music ended and he let her go, sending her flying in the direction of the bar with a laugh and a skip in her step towards her father.

Regulus chuckled as he made his way back to where his cousins stood, trying to catch his breath, while Andromeda smiling fondly at his playfulness with her daughter.

"Andie was telling me Sirius returned the money?" Narcissa raised her eyebrows in surprise as he reached them.

"Almost immediately. Apparently, he was offended that I was _parading_ my wealth over him. The bottom line, he told me to shove it. A welcome boost to the Learning Centre fund for the year, then, Andie. Might even allow for those field trips you’ve had your eyes on."

"Speaking of which, we’re going to have to put up notice for another Tutoring post," Andromeda stated, adding, "Abigail Yates handed in her notice this morning."

"Right after the Christmas bonuses have all been sent out. Fancy that," Regulus raised an eyebrow, taking another drink.

"Now, you two, no business tonight," Narcissa said, disapprovingly, before her attention was drawn to something over his shoulder, "I see Severus is occupied."

Regulus and Andromeda glanced in the direction she indicated, where Severus stood surrounded by Evelyn, a woman he didn't recognise and, not at all surprisingly, Lily Potter.

He grinned, sharing a knowing look with Andie, which piqued his other cousin's interest, immediately.

"What was that?"

"What?" Regulus forced a frown, though his lips couldn't help turning upwards slightly.

"That _look_ you two just shared?"

She glanced between them, curiously, with a slight smile, eager to hear about any conspiracy the two may share.

Andromeda smiled, shaking her head, reluctant as ever to engage in the gossiping ways that their employees had been so eager – as always – to partake in, particularly over the past few weeks in light of Severus’ _obvious_ attentions to the new Fellow in his department.

Regulus, on the other hand, was not so reserved.

"Well, there is _talk_ going on right now within the Foundation about Sev's particular interest in a certain young lady within the faculty."

Narcissa appeared to be stunned speechless for a moment, eyes wide, before her brows lowered and she glanced in the man in question's direction, "Severus? _Really_?"

Regulus laughed.

"Well, your reaction is pretty reflective of everyone else’s. Hence the interest."

"Which of the two young ladies do you mean?" Narcissa was glancing between Lily Potter and the brunette that he hadn't yet met.

"The red-head," he stated, doubting that Narcissa would remember Lily from Hogwarts.

Narcissa glanced at her, looking her up and down, before she seemed to shrug, approvingly, then glanced in Regulus' direction with a small smile.

"I thought it was against employee regulations to engage in a relationship with a work colleague?"

"Yes," Regulus confirmed, before he grinned, "Isn't it scandalous?"

Andromeda chuckled and shook her head, "You shouldn’t listen to the gossip of the employees. You know how places like this are. And we, none of us, are immune to gossip."

"Well, rumours don’t come out of nowhere, Andie, as I’m sure you’d admit," Narcissa said, with a little grin at her sister, before turning questioning eyes on Regulus, "And if Severus _was_ taking an interest in someone, who’d know better than his _dearest_ of friends."

Regulus' grin widened and he gave a shrug, saying nothing.

"Do you know her?"

"I know of her. It's Lily Potter."

Narcissa looked at him sharply.

"James Potter's wife?"

"James Potter's widow," Regulus clarified, "He's been comatose for five years."

"Regulus," Andromeda shot him a reproachful look, glancing around them carefully.

Narcissa was watching Severus with a slight smile, as Mrs Potter smiled and spoke with him animatedly, and Regulus noted the way she would occasionally touch his arm as she spoke, the way she would laugh at whatever comment he said and the way that Severus would smile, obviously _delighted_ with himself that he had managed to accomplish that.

Regulus rolled his eyes, at Severus’ obliviousness of how he looked and how it was no wonder that people were talking.

"Well. I think it would be quite lovely for Severus if he were to find someone," Narcissa remarked, apparently approving of what she had seen, as she turned her attention back to them, "He must be lonely."

"Lonely? Why would he be lonely?" Regulus scoffed, "He lives with me."

"Well, as _fulfilling_ as I’m sure your evenings are together, Reg, there are certain comforts that only a _lady_ can provide. As I’m certain _you_ very well know," Andromeda pointed out with a smirk, causing Narcissa to chuckle, shooting a look Regulus.

Regulus smirked in turn, shrugging entirely unabashedly at the not-so-subtle dig at his previous behaviours, before looking in Severus' direction mischievously.

He caught Evelyn's eye and smiled, lifting his hand in a wave. She returned the gesture, garnering the attention of the rest of her group, as Severus, Lily and the brunette glanced in his direction.

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement, a wariness in his eyes he always got when he noticed the Black cousins conspiring.

Regulus glanced over at Narcissa and Andromeda, "Shall we?"

"You two go ahead, I see Ted is trying to get my attention," Andromeda indicated in the direction of her husband and Dora, still up at the bar, before heading in their direction.

Regulus held out an arm to Narcissa, which she took, and she fell into a slow walk beside him.

Regulus spoke lowly, "It _would_ be nice – don’t you think – if Severus were to take his new interest for a spin on the dance floor, wouldn’t you agree, dear cousin?"

Narcissa smiled in amusement.

"Severus never dances."

"Work with me," he spoke close to her ear, as their made their way to where Severus and the three ladies stood.

* * *

Severus could tell that Regulus was up to something the moment he had spotted him approach from the other side of the room.

Regulus smiled widely as he reached them, "Sev. Who are these new friends of yours keeping you off the dancefloor?"

Severus rolled his eyes – knowing he knew very well who she was – before indicting with a nod.

"Lily Potter; Lily this is Regulus Black and Narcissa Malfoy. And Lily's friend, Julia Bradbury," Severus paused then added with a smirk, as Regulus nodded politely at the two women; "I believe you are already acquainted with Evelyn Redway."

"Yes. Somewhat," Regulus lifted his eyes to the ceiling, before he smiled at her, warmly.

"It’s a very impressive organisation you've created here, Mr Black," Julia said, with the same admiration she had addressed Severus with upon meeting him, "I've heard about all you've done to help those suffering from the war. It's really wonderful."

"Thank you," Regulus smiled, taking the compliment with enviable ease, before he added; "Though I can't take all the credit. Andromeda Tonks and Cissy, here, have been there helping. And Severus, of course."

Regulus glanced at Severus as he said it and he had a teasing twinkle in his eye that could only mean something horrible was to come, before the younger man addressed Lily.

"Speaking of which, I hear that you are doing _very_ well in Project Dorado, Mrs Potter. I much express my absolute _delight_ to have such an outstanding member of staff working with us," he stated, the compliment so out of the blue that Severus frowned as Regulus added with a wide grin, “Thank goodness for endorsements.”

Severus glowered at him.

"Oh," Lily looked surprised also, her cheeks turning pink at the compliment, "Um...thank you, Mr Black. I...I do what I can."

"Oh, far more than that, I'm sure. You're a natural!"

Regulus had his panty-peeler voice on and Severus almost rolled his eyes, glancing apologetically in Evelyn's direction on Regulus’ behalf.

"Oh. Well, Severus has been helping me," Lily stated, obviously finding the attention too much, glancing in his direction.

Severus felt himself redden as all eyes turned to him.

"Has he? Severus, favouritism will not be tolerated," Regulus stated, his expression was stern but his eyes were gleaming with delight and Severus wished he could slap the amusement from his face. Instead, Severus simply returned his look evenly.

"Mrs Potter is exaggerating. I have merely been guiding her in the direction of any articles that would be useful –"

"I knew you were just being modest."

Regulus' attention was back on Lily, who was smiling and blushing with a mix of pleasure and discomfort at being so singled out by the founder, "You always were an excellent student at school, I remember. Merlin, the way Slughorn used to rave about your talents."

Severus found himself becoming irritated at Regulus' incredibly over-the-top attempts at flirting, taking a long drink from his glass.

He noticed Narcissa was looking at him with amusement and frowned in her direction and she lowered her eyes, fighting a smile, shoulders shaking, somewhat, with supressed chuckles.

"Oh, I just enjoyed potions. It helps when you have an interest in the subject."

"Yes, that's true," Regulus was smiling, charmingly at her, and she was smiling back.

Severus glared at the two of them, glancing in Evelyn's direction, who was also watching the exchange with a look of discomfort.

"Mrs Potter, do you dance?"

_Not wasting any time, it would seem._

"Oh, um...well..."

"Please, I insist," Regulus took her hand in his, that same charming smile gracing his features, "I –"

 _"Excuse me_ , Regulus," Narcissa spoke up, drawing the attention of all in the group.

She was still fighting a smile and Severus frowned, as he suddenly realised there was something going on here.

Something the two Blacks were up to. _As always._

"I believe you promised the first dance to _me_ , little cousin? I wouldn't normally insist but this _is_ one of my favourites, as you well know."

Severus knew very well that this song was _not_ one of her favourites.

In fact, Narcissa despised dances like this very one about to commence.

Regulus gave a glance of faux-disappointment – obvious to all, now – before he glanced at Lily, apologetically.

"I apologise, Mrs Potter. It appears I am engaged."

Regulus kept her hand in his, his eyes turning menacingly in Severus direction, "Though Severus does know his way around a dance floor, isn't that right?"

Now all attention was well and truly on him and, before he could respond, Regulus placed Lily's hand in his with a grin he no longer concealed.

Severus was suddenly aware of the game that Regulus had been playing

Lily looked up at him, before giving him a smile and shrugging, apparently giving consent. Severus curled his hand around hers, marvelling inwardly at the softness of it, before addressing Regulus, grinding out the words between clenched teeth.

"After you."

Regulus’ eyebrows lifted and he held an arm out to Narcissa, making his way to the dance floor, with Severus and Lily close behind.

Severus didn't dance.

He had _never_ danced at one of these functions and was aware that this act would certainly draw the attention of the others present at the function.

However, when Lily easily stepped into place in front of his, close to him, the hand he wasn't holding sliding up his arm to rest on his shoulder, he decided the attention was insignificant.

He could put up with the incessant pestering of his colleagues for a few more weeks, he concluded, as he shyly slid his hand around her waist, to rest on her lower back, as he easily moved them both around the floor.

Neither of them spoke at first but he found he could bear the silence easily, as he revelled in the scent of her hair beneath his face – the smell almost intoxicating – and the foreign but most pleasant feel of her in his arms.

Lily turned her head upwards, looking at him, her face so close he leaned his own back slightly.

"Well, I am impressed.”

"Impressed?"

“In all the years that we knew one another, I had no idea you could dance. You always said _no,_ you remember, whenever I tried to coax you. In fact, I remember very well that you _couldn't._ "

She was referring to an utterly mortifying attempt at dancing with her during a Hogwarts dance and he found himself cringe at the memory.

"I lost a bet."

She frowned; "What do you mean?"

He tilted his head, rolling his eyes slightly as he elaborated.

"Regulus Black promised to attend _Ballroom Dancing_ lessons with his cousin, Mrs Tonks –“ Severus could barely keep the derisiveness from his tone, “ – twelve hours of dancing over four weeks."

She was looking at him, searchingly, as they continued to move.

"Those were the stakes in the bet that I lost."

She broke into a wide, delighted smile.

"Severus, are you telling me that you had _dance_ lessons?"

"Regulus finds great pleasure in putting me in the most awkward situations imaginable and observing how I cope. Despite the fact that he was no longer obliged to attend these lessons his cousin was taking – he never missed a class."

Lily's body was shaking with laughter and he found it both pleasant and disconcerting, as she trembled in his arms.

He glanced over her shoulder and noticed Regulus watching him with a grin. Severus shot him a glower; a warning that there would be consequences for this.

"And what would he have had to do if _he_ had lost?"

"He would have had to dismiss a particularly irritating member of the Research Department. I caught him stealing one of my rare ingredients."

"Surely he would have planned to fire him anyway?"

"Unfortunately not. He was the eldest son of a family that was suffering a great deal following the war. In such cases, Regulus is incredibly soft."

Lily was silent a moment, as she contemplated the statement.

"So, he puts you in situations like that a lot, does he?"

"Only when his ploys succeed. My discomfort is often very amusing to him. He is not unlike yourself in that respect."

"Me?" she straightened in surprise; "What have I ever done to make you uncomfortable?"

He truly wondered if she was joking. How often had she teased him? Mocked him? Pointed out awkward truths that would do nothing _but_ bring about discomfort.

"Perhaps it is not intentional," he said, though he knew it was not true.

He noticed she was grinning, cheekily, and was tempted to point out that it was looks like that – looks that she often gave – that disarmed him and made him feel the boyish urge to blush and squirm.

But he was not a boy, so he maintained his dignity and kept silent.

"He seems like a good friend."

"Like I said, you are both very similar in manner."

"You know, if you had dance lessons. You should be able to do more than just these simple steps."

"No. It took twelve hours for me to learn this."

She was laughing again, her body shaking against his.

"Oh, come on. Twirl me."

"No."

"Lift me up. Spin me. You _must_ have learned more than just this."

"As you are entirely aware, I was hopeless prior to those lessons."

She drew back to look up at him, eyes twinkling.

"Well. You _were_ able to twirl me back then."

That was _all_ he had been able to do, he remembered. Standing there, like a lamp post, twirling her as she danced in front of him. He felt the heat of mortification rising.

She was looking at him expectantly, and he rolled his eyes, stopping their feet movements for a moment so that he could give her a quick twirl under his arm.

Lily laughed, delighted that he had given in, when she was back in his arms and he found himself smiling, as he resumed their normal movements.

She was looking up at him again, her eyes almost mesmerising, and he once again drew her closer so that he wouldn't have to look into them.

They were being watched.

He could see Eugene Hopkins watching the two of them with obvious interest, a little grin on his face. He among many others doing the same.

It was irritating.

But the feeling of Lily in his arms was wonderful and the scent of her hair intoxicating and he was enjoying it. He was enjoying it much too much, in fact, more than even he had expected he would, and he felt an unusual flutter in his stomach when she leaned back and met his eyes again.

He _did not_ have butterflies.

The idea was almost ludicrous.

And then she smiled at him, a warm smile, not cheeky or teasing like he was so used to, but genuine.

And Severus felt his heart rate speed up and a heat spread over his cheeks.

She didn't feel the same. He knew that. And she wouldn't.

He found his eyes drawn to the wedding ring on her finger.

In her mind, she still belonged to another. She belonged to Potter.

And what did it matter anyway?

He had been down this road before. He knew where it led; how the story ended.

He wouldn't let himself get tangled up in it all again.

However, when the song ended, Lily didn't seem inclined to stop dancing. She remained in his arms as the band began another and he found it impossible to pull away. A terrible sign of things to come but even that thought wasn't enough to discourage him.

So he held her close and they danced again.

* * *

"That was cruel of you, Regulus."

Evelyn was biting her lip, which was slightly upturned, giving away her amusement, when he finally found her on the veranda. She didn't look at him as he approached, instead opting to look out over the heavily populated ice-rink that Narcissa had ordered for the event.

Regulus grinned, pleased with himself, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction of Severus. He and Lily Potter were no longer dancing but they were standing close together, alone, talking with ease and it was clear that Severus was enjoying her company. He shrugged, turning his attention back to Evelyn;

"What can I say? I can't help myself sometimes."

"Don't I know it."

There was a slight edge to her voice but her expression was impassive, not indicating any real irritation with him. Though she rarely did. He glanced down, contemplatively for a moment, before he stepped in beside her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on top of the stone wall in front of them, so that he was lower that her, and then glanced up at her with an impish smile.

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye, her lip twitching slightly.

"You know you do pull off the brooding, mysterious lady very well."

She closed her eyes, smiling this time, and shook her head at his comment.

"Where is Malachi this evening?"

"With Draco Malfoy at the Manor."

"Overnight?"

"Yes."

Regulus nodded, continuing to look over her for a moment, before he turned his eyes out to the ice rink when she didn't meet his eyes. Christmas lights were suspended in the air above the rink, blue and white; sparkling as they seemed to descended and disappear as they fell. He looked back at Evelyn with a smile;

"I bet I can guess what you're thinking."

"Oh really? And what do you bet?"

"Only pride," he grinned, "Besides, I wouldn't want to take anything from you."

"Cocky, as always."

"Ah ah!" He held up a finger, to silence her, before he used the same finger to indicate in the direction of the rink, "You're thinking about our first date."

Her brow furrowed slightly, before she finally allowed her eyes to meet his. She raised an eyebrow; "Is that so?"

"Come on; you remember, don't you? Ice skating in Hyde Park, down in muggle London."

"Ah. Yes. Rings a bell, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Regulus repeated, with a scoff, "The most romantic night of your life!"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

He turned, this time leaning his forearms back against the structure, resting his back against the wall; "Christmas Eve, 1979."

She smiled at him.

"You were freezing. You had worn a dress; that blue one that I liked. With some tiny little cloak that wouldn't even satisfy a polar bear's need for warmth. I imagine you expected I would take you out to dinner."

"As a gentleman would in minus degrees."

"It was not in minuses," Regulus chuckled, "Besides; I offered you my cloak and scarf, didn't I?"

"And then almost froze to death yourself."

"Hardly. How could I freeze to death when I'm in your company; I get all warm and fuzzy inside."

She tittered, silently, glancing away from him.

"I bought you a hot chocolate at the cafe –"

"An _outdoor_ portable stand."

"- And a piece of Christmas pudding –"

"Which was stale."

"Hey, you're ruining the romance of the memory, here!" He nudged her with his hip and she smiled; "And then you said; 'Oh, Regulus, it would be wonderful to go ice skating –"

"I said nothing of the sort –"

"- So I happily obliged –"

"It was _you_ who had been so desperate to go ice skating. And I had reluctantly agreed."

"Was it?" He feigned thoughtfulness, "Ah! Aha! Yes, you're right! I was thinking it was _I_ who had been stumbling and falling all over the rink, but that was you!"

"Oh, I'm delighted that you remember."

He laughed, looking at her affectionately; "I taught you how to skate."

"You taught me how to fall with grace."

"No. No; you weren't too bad by the time we left."

"I had bruises all over myself the next morning."

"Did you? I was not allowed the pleasure of a viewing."

"That you weren't," she cocked an eyebrow.

"You enjoyed the Ferris Wheel afterwards."

"I suppose I did."

"It was a perfect date."

"Well, a perfect reflection of the relationship that was to come," she looked at him, fully.

Regulus held her look, bravely, knowing she was making reference to the pain he had, and was still, putting her through. He reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't pull it away.

"Perhaps you would like to give it another go?"

Evelyn's brow furrowed once again and he grinned, allowing his eyes to glance in the direction of the ice rink once more. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, attempting to pull her hand back. But he held on tight and bounded upright, tugging her towards the steps; "Come on, you'll love it."

"Regulus –"

"Just like old times." He hurried towards the rink with boyish excitement, Evelyn's hand held tightly in his, as he pulled her along behind him.

* * *

"You should have been in bed hours ago," Sirius remarked, disapprovingly, as he ushered his Godson up the stairs.

"I wanted to wait for Mum," Harry stated, looking back at him, innocently, "Uncle Remus said it was okay."

"Well, that was daft of him to say. It's almost half past ten," Sirius replied, looking at him sternly, "And your mum won't be home for a long time yet."

"How come your so mad?" Harry asked, frowningly, turning to face him fully as they reached the top of the stairs. Sirius sighed, guiltily, at the confusion in the boy's eyes before he reached over and ruffled his hair, the way his father used to do to him.

"I'm not mad," he stated, taking Harry's hand and leading him into his room, "I'm just tired. I'll be going to bed soon as well."

"Why did you send Uncle Remus home? Mum said he could stay."

Sirius almost blanched at the idea of having to spend hours in Remus' company without Harry there to occupy their attention; "Because there's no need. I'm home now."

"How come you and Uncle Remus don't like each other?"

Sirius hooked his hands underneath Harry's arms, swinging him upwards and letting him fall backwards onto the bed. Harry laughed, struggling into a sitting position.

"We do like each other."

Harry frowned, "No you don't. You hate each other."

"Hey, that's not true." Sirius sat down on the bed, as Harry began tugging off his socks.

"You shout at each other. You get really mad. Even worse than you do with mum."

"No that...that doesn't mean we don't like each other, Harry," Sirius attempted to explain, "We just don't always agree. The same as me and your mum sometimes; and you know I care about your mum. That's just how it is sometimes, with grownups. They argue."

"You don't have to lie. I'm not a baby. I don't like some people at school either."

"Uncle Remus and I...we have a complicated relationship, that's all." Sirius wasn't sure how to put the situation into the proper context for a six year old; "It's like...it would be like. I don't know...If someone at school was being horrible to one of your friends, maybe saying something that wasn't true. And then, you believed them."

"Was Uncle Remus horrible to you?" Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"No," Sirius replied, shaking his head, as he handed Harry's pyjama top to him, "No. Someone else said something about him. Something that wasn't true. And then I believed them for a little while."

"Why did you believe them? Wasn't Uncle Remus your friend?" He pulled the top over his head, making a mess of his hair in the process; making himself look like James.

Sirius hesitated, looking over his Godson, the one person who could truly make him feel ashamed of anything he ever did and was humbled by the disapproving look in the boy's eyes.

"Yes he was. That's why he was upset with me."

"Is he still upset now? When did it happen?"

"It happened a long time ago. Sometimes it takes time for people to become friends again."

"So, you _will_ be friends again?" Harry looked hopeful.

Sirius considered it for a moment, not entirely sure if they would. Maybe too much had happened now; too much water under the bridge. But he couldn't explain that to Harry; how could a six year old possibly understand the hostility between two people he loved?

"I think so, Harry. In time."

Harry smiled, looking relieved; "Good."

"Good, eh?" Sirius grinned, grabbing the edge of the duvet and roughly tugging it out from beneath the boy, causing him to tumble backwards from his sitting position so he was flat on his back. Harry laughed and nodded;

"Uh huh. I think Uncle Remus will come and live with us soon," he stated, as Sirius tucked the covers around him, "So it's good that you'll be friends again."

Sirius shook his head; "No, Harry. I don't think so. Uncle Remus is happy where he is."

"But soon he'll want to be closer to Mum."

Sirius looked at him with a frown, confused at the statement; "Close to your mum?"

Harry grinned, looking pleased that he seemed to know something that he didn't. Sirius tilted his head, regarding him carefully;

"What are you up to?"

Harry giggled, cheekily; "Nothing. It's them that are up to stuff."

Sirius was beginning to feel uneasy; _surely not?_

"Just tell me, Harry."

Harry grinned; "I saw them; Mum and Uncle Remus. They were kissing."

The room fell deafly silent for a moment.

"They _what?_ "

* * *

"Stay with me tonight."

Regulus' felt his hopes die away when Evelyn turned her face away from him, looking up at the stairs above them. After an hour of spinning around the ice rink, the two had snuck away from the curious eyes of his employees and laid down in the grass on the far side of the maze, relieved to find no one else had had the same idea.

"You see, I managed to teach you something on that first date." He rolled onto his side, leaning his elbow on the ground and supporting his head in his hand, so that he looked down on her.

She smiled, shaking her head; "Actually, I take Malachi ice skating quite frequently. It is not new to me."

"Oh."

"He misses you."

"He stayed with me last week."

"It's not the same."

No, it wasn't. It wasn't nearly enough. And he remembered how eager he had been for Evelyn to come and retrieve him after only the first day; when he had thought he had actually lost his son. Every moment he spent with him he was only further reminded of what a terrible father he was; what a terrible father his own father had been; and then thoughts would drift to other fathers, fathers he hadn't really known, who had been killed during the war. Some of them at his own hand.

He pushed those thoughts away.

Evelyn tucked a hand behind her head, pointing with the other; "Orion's belt. You pointed that out to me."

He glanced up at it, nodding; "Yep. The plough as well," he pointed upwards, in its direction, "And, from Orion's foot, look, there's Eridanus."

She smiled and nodded, keeping her eyes on them; "I remember."

Regulus preferred to remember Hyde Park than looking at the stars with her. Because of the Blacks' fascination with the constellations and planets of outer space, he had picked up on star gazing quickly. Almost as quickly as he had realised how romantic girls happened to find it; and the ritual was often the starting point for meaningless sexual excursions when he was younger. In Hogwarts, mostly; however Evelyn had not escaped the test. Though he hadn't tried it on anyone else since.

"I miss him too," he stated, with reference to her earlier comment about their son; "Every time I see him there's something new. Something I didn't know."

She didn't answer, though he had a fair idea what she was thinking. That he had only himself to blame for that. That he could change that with simply a word.

"And I miss you," he added, quietly.

She closed her eyes, sighing quietly, before she opened them and met his eyes; "So come home."

Come home. It was that simple.

But it wasn't. He had tried.

He glanced down and she looked away, aware of his answer.

"You can't keep holding on to it, you know. One day you're going to have to let go."

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and stretched out the arm that was supporting him so it curled on the grass above her head, laying down next to her.

"I don't want to hold onto it. You don't understand, Evie."

She met his eyes, shaking her head; "You're right. I don't. We have a son, Regulus, a _beautiful, perfect_ son _._ And he loves you so much. And _I_ love you so much. What else do you want?"

But it had nothing to do with them, what he felt. And their love _wasn't_ ever enough to help him shake it. Severus helped sometimes; being around him, knowing that he must feel the same, at least a little, even if he didn't let it show. Evelyn was innocent, pure; she had no idea what it felt like; the guilt, the shame. The feeling that you just couldn't live with yourself.

How could she ever know? How could she ever understand?

"I love you, too." He offered, instead.

She held his look, evenly, not warming at the statement; "One day you're going to wake up and you're going to realise you've waited too long."

"Evie," he whispered, pressing another kiss to her shoulder; "Evie, I love you," he repeated, quietly.

She shook her head; "What do you want me to do?"

He pushed himself back up, leaning on his arm to look down at her, stroking her arm; "Nothing."

"Nothing," she repeated, quietly.

He stroked the side of her face with the back on his finger; "I don't deserve you."

"Once upon a time, you did."

"No. I was worse back then."

"Really? I didn't think you were all that bad." She rolled onto her side, pushing herself up so that they were facing one another.

He gave her a small smile and shrugged; "I didn't know any better."

"Well, we were still young. Children, even."

"Look at us now." He smiled, leaning forward and nudging her nose with his playfully, eliciting a smile from her.

"Yes, look at us." She raised an eyebrow, still smiling as she did so.

He sighed, reaching up to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, and he responded leisurely, deeply. He touched his forehead to hers when they pulled away;

"Stay with me tonight," he repeated his earlier request.

And, this time, she smiled.

* * *

"Shall we have our fortunes told?"

Lily's tone was teasing but Severus could tell from the slight widening of her eyes that she actually was interested in what the prophet had to say, as they glanced in the direction of the room where people were lining up to hear their fates.

Severus rolled his eyes, derisively; "Why ruin the joy of experiencing life as it comes?" He deadpanned.

Lily tore her eyes from the room, looking at him with a grin; "Surely you are interested."

"Interested? Like I said, why not wait and be surprised? Besides, such things are nonsense. Fortunes are not told on a whim."

"Have a lot of experience with fortunes and prophecies, do you?"

Severus glanced away from her, at the dance floor, out the window; anywhere but her eyes.

"Ah, so you are not _so_ much of a sceptic," she declared, with a grin, looking back in the direction; "Besides, even if what the prophet says isn't true; it's nice to be offered some hope."

"And what if the prophet doesn't offer hope? It is just as likely that the scoundrel will reveal some terrible tale about the troubles and hardships due to occur; and then you spend the rest of your life, or until they are proven wrong, mindlessly worrying if and when the event is going to occur. It is pointless."

"Had a bad experience with a fortune teller, Severus?" She turned her attention back to him with a smile.

"Perhaps."

"Ah, once bitten, is it?"

"I just do not wish to pander to the likes of such people. They are taking advantage of people's hopes, desires, even their troubles by offering to predict something which cannot truly be predicted."

"Oh, it's all just a bit of fun, Severus," she rolled her eyes before she tugged on his sleeve, both startling him and indicating for him to follow, and then turned and began making her way in the direction of the room. Severus rolled his eyes and followed.

"You are not truly going to fall for this, are you?"

"I'm not 'falling for' anything. It's just for fun; besides, it would be ashame not to experience it when the Foundation has went to the trouble of providing the activity."

"Believe me, the Foundation will cope. As you see, there was plenty of activities provided for our amusement and each guest is not expected to partake in each and every one of them. It is a matter of personal taste."

"Exactly."

"Still caught up in all this nonsense, even after ten years have passed," he muttered to himself.

She glanced at him, sharply, with a grin; "So you remember the fayre?"

"Yes, of course. I remember everything about us."

He almost cringed at how the statement sounded, but Lily seemed pleased and smiled brighter, as they joined the end of the line.

"I also remember that the fortune teller promised a great amount of doom and gloom; and you spent the next fortnight miserable as you contemplated what could he could have possibly been referring to."

"And now I have a whole collection of incidents that it could have been to choose from!" she announced, with false cheerfulness, for the first time making a reference to all the troubles she had faced since they had been friends; "You see; they do speak the truth."

"But that does not support your earlier statement," he countered; "They do not always offer hope."

"I assume you do not intend to have your future told?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"That is correct. Like I said, I do not pander to these crooks."

"Crooks?" she repeated, chuckling, before she shook her head and stepped forward as the queue moved.

"Exactly, Lily. Crooks. I have seen true –"

He broke off, suddenly feeling hot all over.

Lily looked at him curiously, completely oblivious to his discomfort and the reason for it; "You've seen...?"

Severus sighed and waved an unconvincing, dismissive hand; "It matters not." They stepped forward, reaching the front of the queue; the door to the room closed in front of them.

"Perhaps you would like to accompany me and observe my future being told? It may encourage you to take the risk of learning your own," she said, smiling cheekily at him. He glanced at her, holding her look.

"I believe that such things are private."

Lily chuckled, "It's fortune telling, not a strip tease."

Severus closed his eyes, forcing away some rather pleasing and inappropriate images that had come to mind at the statement, reaching up and rubbing the back on his neck, embarrassed by his thoughts; "I would not want my _aura_ to interfere with your reading."

She giggled, smiling up at him, "I don't think that's how it works."

"Oh you don't? Is it a force indiscernible to those without the 'inner eye'? Or is it simply the lines of your palms that reveal the truth?"

"Hmm."

She took his hand in hers and he felt his heart and stomach leap at the contact. She turned his hand over in hers, with a mock frown as she pretended to observe and read what she was seeing. She trailed the index finger of her free hand down his life line, sticking out her tongue at the side of her mouth for dramatic effect, and he found his breathing quicken slightly at the contact.

"Why, yes Mr – sorry, _Professor –_ Snape; I see...I see great promise in your future –"

"Great promise? Ah; because that is not vague at all."

She lifted the finger that had been trailing down his palm with a grin; "I need silence for my reading, Sir."

"Oh, I do apologise." He smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Yes...yes, a long life," she went on, theatrically, "A happy life –"

"You see, now I know that you are a fraud."

She lifted her eyes to his with a small smile; "What, you don't expect to have a long, happy life?" she asked, innocently, dropping her act.

Severus pulled his hand from hers; "I try not to expect anything, Lily."

"Pessimist."

"Idealist."

"Well, I try."

"Your optimism is going to land you in trouble one day. Tell me, what will be the aftermath of things not turning out your way?"

Lily looked more affected than he had intended by the statement and he immediately felt guilt as she quickly averted her eyes.

Severus frowned, noticing that she seemed upset.

"I...I didn't mean –"

She looked at him and gave him one of her forced smiles, shaking her head.

"No. Don't worry," she shrugged, "Just one of my _many_ issues, I suppose."

"I –"

The door opened in front of them, drawing their attention, and the person who was in previously, Rowan Ellison stepped out. She smiled at them, nodding her head in acknowledgement and interest, before she walked by them and back to the party.

Lily peered into the room, before glancing at him expectantly, "Last chance?"

He raised an eyebrow, indicating for her to enter, "I shall wait."

She looked pleasantly surprised at the statement and he found himself confused, wondering why he had bothered offering.

Why not just go and return to the party? Find someone else he knew?

But he couldn't retract the offer now and, anyway, she was now making her way into the room and the door was closing in his face.

He stepped out of the queue, walking a few steps to stand by the wall at the other side of the door.

"Aha, Severus!"

He glanced around quickly and then relaxed when he saw Eugene Hopkins approaching.

"Eugene.”

“Enjoying your time with Mrs Potter?" Eugene asked, eyes sparkling but there was obvious interest in his tone, as there had been in everyone else’s expressions that night.

At least the man had the decency to lower his volume, Severus found himself thinking.

"I suppose. She is reasonable company."

"Reasonable?" Eugene chuckled, "I'd say she's far more than that."

"Has Regulus said something to you?"

"Oh no, my dear boy. Regulus is currently occupied with feminine company of his own."

Severus rolled his eyes, "Dare I ask?"

"Lovely girl. Miss Evelyn Redway, from my introductions this evening."

Severus smiled slightly in satisfaction.

"Yes. She is a lovely girl. Very suitable for him."

"Ah, but young."

"Not so young."

Severus considered it for a moment. Twenty-three, if Severus had it right.

"So, tell me, have you been making progress?" Eugene asked, eyes twinkling.

Severus glared at him, becoming irritated.

"I assure you, that is not my intention. Mrs Potter and I are old friends."

"Old friends, eh? Is this where your endorsement came from?" Eugene looked curious and Severus found himself become irritated at the suggestion of nepotism. Even if, actually, it was.

"It was a long time ago. We were not in contact prior to her joining us here."

"I see."

"As you have seen, she is quite a capable addition. There is no need for concern."

"Oh, I was not concerned, Severus," Eugene smiled, "Merely curious. I know you to be an excellent judge of character."

At that moment the door opened and Lily stepped out from the room, looking shaken.

Severus looked at her with concern and she started when she came face to face with Eugene, "Healer Hopkins."

"Mrs Potter," he greeted her with a wide smile; "How are you this evening?"

She shook her head, looking distracted.

"Fine. I'm fine," she glanced in the direction of the doors to the veranda, "Just need some fresh air, I think."

Eugene stepped aside with a smile, "Please, don’t allow me to get in your way, Mrs Potter."

Lily smiled and glanced in Severus' direction a moment with an indiscernible expression, before she made her way towards the doors.

Severus watched after her for a moment, before he addressed the man before him.

"Excuse me, Eugene."

He glanced around him, attempting to make his way after her as discreetly as possible.

Severus found her sitting down on one of the benches on the veranda, fingering her wedding ring.

He hesitated, her actions making her thoughts perfectly clear to him and James Potter was certainly not a topic he ever wanted to have to discuss with her. He made to step away when she lifted her head, looking quickly in his direction.

Severus paused for a moment, uncertainly, before he regained his composure and walked over, taking a seat next to her.

"If you say ' _I told you so'..._ " she broke off, rolling her eyes, and looked away.

"As I said, they are frauds. They know nothing about the future. They only prey on what it obvious to them. And do not forget that they have probably discovered information about you prior to you seeing them."

Lily gave a small, unconvincing smile.

"She said that the worst was yet to come. That there was great... _turmoil_ in my future."

Lily glanced at him.

"It doesn't make any sense. How could there be _worse_ things still to happen?"

Severus hesitated, not sure how to answer. In his experience, things could always get worse.

"It is all simple drivel, Lily. Not to be taken seriously."

"She knew things about me –"

"There are many who know things about you. About your situation."

She sighed and shrugged.

"I suppose that's true."

Severus watched her with concern, not entirely sure what he ought to say.

He knew very little of her personal circumstances, really, as such he knew even less about what the prophet could have targeted.

There was James Potter, of course. A circumstance the entire Wizarding World was privy to. And a subject, still, he was unwilling to broach, so he tried for distraction as a method of comfort, instead.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" he offered, glancing out towards the maze, remembering where they had reconciled previously.

Lily rubbed her arms, which were bare, and shook her head, "Hmm...no. It's cold."

"Then…perhaps you would like to return to the party?"

Lily glanced at him, meeting his eyes, and she just looked at him for a moment, _really_ looked at him, as if she were learning something and he found himself blushing – to his mortification – and he averted his eyes.

Lily smiled warmly.

"Yes. Okay."

She nodded and stood, waiting for him to do the same.

Severus got to his feet and, touching a hand to her lower back, guided her back indoors.


	12. December 1986: A Merry Little Christmas

Lily knew that Severus had been right.

That the concept of predictions, divination and fortune telling was ridiculous and that it was foolish of her to dwell on what had been said to her the night before.

And yet, Lily spent a sleepless night doing just that. Hours and hours through the night spent attempting to connect the dots and imagine, herself, what the prophet had meant. Only reminding herself of all she and Harry had already been through.

Of all the pain they were already suffering.

And, surely, it was about time for things to get better rather than worse?

The very thought that they even could was almost incomprehensible to her.

The prophet had hinted at secrets and lies, loss and unwanted truths and – as if that wasn't bad enough – then went on to state that such things were the least of her concerns.

That there was something bigger and darker on the horizon.

Severus had remained concerned for her for a while – attempting to encourage her to dismiss the incident as nonsense – and she had half-heartedly agreed with his assertions, though she still hadn't been able to shake the feeling of dread that had been planted within her following the meeting.

So, she had gone home with the intention of speaking about it with Sirius and Remus – two, or, at least, one of whom, never failed to be brutally honest with her when the occasion called for it – only to find that Remus had already left and Sirius was already in bed.

Lily’s own sleep was broken – dozing more than sleep – and, so, when she heard Sirius stir and emerge from his room, she rose – giving up on rest, entirely – and began to prepare for the day ahead.

"Morning."

Sirius glanced at her strangely, before he gave her a nod, "You're up early."

"Didn't sleep very well."

"Bad night?"

"Something like that. Why didn't Remus stay?"

She noticed Sirius tense, his jaw moved and clenched.

"Because he didn't need to. Why would he stay?"

Surprised at the terse response, she walked by him to pour herself some coffee.

"Well, I imagine you didn't get home until late. And we have the spare room."

"The spare room.”

Lily frowned at his words, uncertain as to his unusual behaviour.

"How did it go with the Ministry?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject, for it was early, and the last thing she need was to get involved in – what she guessed – was another argument between Sirius and Remus, “Any information about Peter?"

Sirius' expression darkened, further than it already was.

"No. Nothing. Not even a trace. They weren't even interested in anything I had to say about him. Just shoved a bunch of forms in my face to register as an Animagus. Gotta get the admin right."

"Oh."

"Fuck this," he snapped, slamming his cup down on the table, making her jump in surprise.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he demanded.

"What?"

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

Lily took a step back from him, the hostility with which he was regarding her unfamiliar and almost frightening, "Sirius, I honestly have no idea –"

He threw a hand up in the air before he looked at her with disgust.

"Remus. I'm talking about Remus; you and Remus!" He turned his back to her, shaking his head, "I can’t believe – don't even want to imagine –"

Realisation washed over Lily quickly. Though she was baffled as to why Remus had told him, at all, and even more bewildered by Sirius’ over the top reaction to it.

It was just a kiss, after all.

Sirius turned around, looking at her expectantly, obviously wanting a response, "Well?"

She felt herself grow irritated at the self-righteousness of his expression.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, Sirius."

"Oh, well, thanks, Lily. I really appreciate that."

"Well, it has nothing to do with you –"

"Anything that affects Harry has something to do with me! I can't believe you would do this! I mean – he was one of James’ –"

"Sirius," she snapped, "Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"No! No, I don't. I mean, seriously, Lily, how did you expect me to react? This is just...Merlin...this is...it's disgusting!"

"I think that's a bit strong –"

"Lily. This is one of James' best friends! I mean – it's like sleeping with his brother or something!”

"Sleeping – what are you talking about?" She rounded on him, "We haven't slept together!"

"Maybe not yet, but it's bound to happen sooner or la–" he turned away with the same, irritatingly, disgusted expression and she found herself confused and angry at the accusatory tone he had adopted while speaking to her.

"What are you talking about, Sirius? I have absolutely no intention of ever sleeping with Remus."

Sirius was regarding her with the same bewilderment in his expression that she was feeling.

After a moment he frowned, "What? You're...what?"

"Sirius, what the Hell are you going on about?"

"You tell me."

Sirius seemed uncertain now, as he began to noticeably calm down, and Lily began wondering where the lines of communication had faltered and what had been said between him and Remus to cause such an over-the-top, passionate response from him.

“What did Remus say to you?”

He shook his head.

"It wasn’t – Harry told me –"

"Harry!"

The dread she had already been feeling from the previous night intensified and she quickly went on, "How does Harry even know about it? What did he say?"

"He said that you and 'Uncle Remus' were kissing."

"Wha- no! I mean, yes...there was a kiss, but –" she reached a hand up to rub her temples, "What else did he say?"

"That's all. Seemed pretty pleased about it, though, already imagining the four of us all living here like one big happy family," he said, distain dripping with each word; "Just what did you think you were doing, Lily? You can't go about just kissing Remus –"

"I didn't!"

"You didn't? You just said you did!"

"Look, Sirius, just leave it. It's sorted."

"No, tell me what happened."

"Why? I just told you I've handled it. I need to speak to Harry –"

"Just tell me," he snapped, grabbing her arm as she attempted to walk by him.

Lily snatched her arm back, glaring at him furiously.

"It was just a misunderstanding, that's all."

"But you kissed? You said you didn't – do you mean he kissed you? Did he force –"

"No! No, of course not! It was just a misunderstanding, Sirius, that's all. He got the wrong idea –"

"So, it was him!"

Sirius sounded almost triumphant as he declared it and she shot him a cautionary look.

"Just stay out of it, Sirius."

"What? And let him think he can go around doing stuff like that? He's got no right –"

"No right? Sirius, will you please just calm down! This isn't a big deal –"

"It is a big deal! It's a huge deal! He fancies you!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! We were just talking and got a bit carried away, that's all."

"What were you talking about?"

"You, actually. It was all very romantic."

"Me?" Sirius blinked, looking startled; "What about me?"

"One guess."

Before he could respond they heard the sound of the floorboards above creaking, indicating that Harry had awoken, and both of them glanced up at the roof for a moment before meeting one another's eyes again.

Sirius released a breath, the reminder of Harry's presence a calming influence on them both and sighed.

"I’m sorry. I didn't mean to get on at you. I just thought –"

"Just forget it, Sirius. Like I said, let's not makes this into a huge thing. Please. Let's just forget about it."

Lily made her way from the room, intending to set things straight with Harry, her concerns regarding the fortune teller from the previous evening suddenly seeming even more ridiculous as she was reminded of the constant difficulties she was having trying to be a mother.

* * *

"Do you understand?"

Harry bit his lip as his mother continued to explain that what he had seen between her and his Uncle Remus was simply a mistake; and that it in no way meant that he would soon be living with them or that he and his mum were going to become a couple.

"So...you don't want him?"

It was his mum who didn't want his Uncle Remus, not the other way around.

His Uncle Remus loved her, wanted her; maybe he would have even married her. But she wouldn't let him.

"No, Harry. Not that way. Your Uncle Remus is a very dear friend. That's all."

"But...maybe –"

"That's all, Sweetheart," his mum said again, before infuriatingly adding, "I love your father."

Harry let out an exasperated breath and glared at her, "That's just silly, Mum. Uncle Remus is here, he isn't. You're just making yourself sad all the time."

It was like she was doing it on purpose.

His mum reached over, brushing the hair back from his forehead, "I'm not sad all the time, Harry."

"Yes, you are. When you think about him, you are."

"I'm not sad, Harry. I just miss him. It's okay to miss people that are gone."

"See, you just said it! He's gone! He's not coming back."

"Harry, even if that is true, it doesn't change the way I feel about your Uncle Remus," his mum said and he looked away, fighting tears, "Sweetheart, it doesn't work the way you want it to. People don't simply choose who they love. It just happens."

"Uncle Remus wants you."

"No, Harry, he doesn't."

Harry huffed and climbed from his bed, walking over to the corner where his broom was propped up.

"Uncle Sirius said he would take me flying."

He had been excited the night before. He hadn't been allowed to fly since his accident.

"Yes, he did. He's waiting downstairs."

Harry lifted his broom without answering.

"Be careful when you're flying, okay?"

"I will."

Harry went to walk by her however was stopped by her hand on his arm; "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

"It's okay," he lied.

It wasn't okay.

* * *

"It involves someone entering the mind in order to find a memory that the holder may have forgotten or that may, in some way, have been damaged, and then extracting it so that it may be studied."

"And would it be possible to tamper with these memories in order to make the holder believe in events which did not actually occur?"

"While in the mind? No," Regulus regarded Albus Dumbledore suspiciously; "Why all the interest in Project Orion?"

"I believe that it will prove to be a highly valuable advantage to the Light."

Regulus' eyes narrowed, "The research done by the Foundation is not meant to be used by either the Light or the Dark sides of the war; it's done for the benefit of those who have suffered memory loss due to the war. It's for individuals. Not a cause."

"Nevertheless, it will be incredibly useful when Voldemort returns."

"Why? Are you planning on tampering with his mind?" he enquired, almost sarcastically, earning a serene smile from the old man.

"Nothing so ambitious, my boy. I had simply hoped that you would see to it that Severus is involved with that project."

Regulus blinked.

"Severus was involved with that project for over a year."

"I am quite aware. However, I have now learned that he is to be heading another project within your organisation."

"Yes, Project Dorado. It's far more advanced, expanding on what has been discovered during Project Orion; it's more challenging for him and a logical next –"

"I should like him returned to Project Orion."

Regulus rolled his eyes.

"And under what grounds am I to transfer him? He is not just some insignificant hand for me to move around as I please. Dorado was his initiative. What if he refuses?"

"Why would he refuse?"

"Dorado was his own proposal after what he had learned in Orion. Any challenges involved with Orion have ended – it's almost complete – and he is now heading the Medicinal aspect of another project. It would be unwise to pull him from it now, and not to mention a complete waste of one of our best thinkers."

"I must insist, Regulus."

Regulus frowned, regarding Dumbledore curiously for a moment, before he asked, "Does this have something to do with Lily Potter?"

Only a slight jerk of the old man's head indicated any surprise at the statement.

"Lily Potter? How would this affect her?"

Regulus glanced away from him, completely aware that the old man had just as well an idea of Severus' affection for Mrs Potter, though felt it would be a betrayal to speak the words out loud to someone so well aware of the depths of his friend's attachment to her.

"I assure you, Regulus, the personal lives of Severus – and of yourself – are of no concern to me. This has nothing at all to do with Lily Potter."

"Good. Because it would be pointless. They barely work together as it is. Their specialities are completely different."

"That may be so but, as I said, that is of no concern to me. I still wish for Severus to be returned to Project Orion."

"I'll consider it," Regulus reluctantly stated; "I assume you're not going to tell me your reasons for wanting this?"

"I cannot. Though you may learn yourself in time."

"Your faith in me is overwhelming."

"Patience, Regulus. Soon you and I will continue with our own scheme and I would not want you distracted by Severus' task."

"And will this be a dangerous task?" Regulus eyed him, the answer to the question almost certainly a deal breaker regarding whether or not he would do as the old man was asking.

"Not at all, my boy. Certainly, less so than your own."

Regulus nodded his head slightly.

"I would appreciate it if you would keep this conversation between us."

"And how am I supposed to do that? What reason am I supposed to give for returning him to an almost complete project?"

"Hmm," Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling as he spoke; "From the information I was able to gather from your earlier enquiry regarding Mrs Potter, I suppose a conflict of interest may suffice as a suitable reason."

* * *

"What you did was bang out of order, Remus!"

Harry had barely left the room when Sirius had rounded on him with insults that were obviously coming from more than just anger at what had transpired between himself and Lily.

"It's none of your business, Sirius. It's between me and Lily."

"Like you're going anywhere near Lily after this."

"And who are you to make threats like that?" Remus snapped, looking at him angrily, "She's James' wife, not yours."

"Rich, coming from you, Remus!" Sirius' eyes were flashing furiously, "Listen to what you just said; that's James' wife! What if she had kissed you back, huh? How far would you have gone? Would James have even come to mind?"

"You're the one who's always harping at her to move on and get over James –"

"Yes, to move on; start living. Not move on to you, James' friend. For Merlin's sake, Remus! Is this what you've always been thinking? Have you just been waiting for your chance to weasel in –"

"Oh fuck you, Sirius! You know that's not how it is!"

"No, Remus, actually I don't. I don't know you at all anymore. I couldn't believe my ears when Harry was telling me this – and did you even stop to think about how this would affect Harry?"

"Don't bring Harry into this. And no, I didn't. It wasn't a conscious decision. It just happened!"

"Well maybe you should learn to exercise some self-control and not react based on whatever your dick is telling you to do."

Remus lifted a hand, shaking his head, the argument made so unfounded that he almost couldn't respond, "Like you've never thought about it Sirius!"

Sirius shook his head, looking mind-blown by the accusation, "Are you kidding me? No, I haven't ever thought about it! I haven't – and wouldn't – ever consider it!"

"It was just a kiss, Sirius," Remus sighed.

He didn't have the energy for this. For yet another fight with Sirius. He could never win in those arguments. He was always the one left toiling, going over and over again in his mind what had been said, while Sirius carried on, regardless, as if nothing were ever even said. Add to that the embarrassment he was already feeling over what he had done, he was certain the whole argument was a pointless waste of time.

"There's no such thing as 'just a kiss'. It meant something."

"Yeah, okay, it did. But not what you think it means."

"Well then what? Tell me?"

A few years ago, he might have.

He may have spilled it all out and told his old friend exactly why he had done it.

That he was lonely and that what Lily had said to him had meant so much to him, more than it should have. That it made him feel for the first time in a long time as if he was worth something to someone. That life wasn't so hopeless, so pointless. That he had made some sort of difference to someone, someone who actually cared if he wasn't around.

That he wasn't alone.

Remus had wanted that feeling to last.

It was gratitude and desperation and hope.

But he couldn't say that to Sirius.

The idea of exposing himself so to him was unthinkable, now.

Remus looked at him, regretfully, the damage to their relationship never more clear.

"I can't."

Sirius held his look.

After a moment his eyes softened and he was looking at him with the same sadness that Remus felt, as if he, too, was just realising what they had become; both of them finally, really seeing what had happened to them.

What Peter Pettigrew had done to them.

* * *

"Dumbledore has asked me to transfer you back to Project Orion."

Severus looked at Regulus sharply over the parchments he was holding.

"Did he give any indication as to the reasons for this?"

"Only that it will be useful when the Dark Lord returns."

Severus thought about that for a moment.

"I told him that I'd think about it. If you don't want to transfer, it's no problem. I'll just insist that you have to oversee Dorado."

Severus rolled his eyes, tossing aside the parchments he held.

"You and I both know that Dumbledore would not be defied so easily. There is obviously a good reason behind him asking this. Why did he go to you? Why not ask for an audience with me to make the request?"

"He didn't want you to know about it."

Severus wasn't surprised by the statement.

"Then why are you telling me?"

Regulus shrugged.

Severus held back a smile though he was pleased that Regulus obviously valued his friendship with him, over his loyalty towards Dumbledore.

It wasn't surprising or even the first time that it had been demonstrated but it was a welcome reminder that Regulus did care about things other than repentance and that their relationship went above that, one of the very few of his that did.

"Very well. Did you make him aware of the fact that Orion will be completed within the next half year? Probably sooner, now that I am to return."

Regulus chuckled, shaking his head at the arrogance of his statement; "Yes. I told him. He is aware of your brilliance, no need to worry about that."

Severus smirked.

"If anything, he’s probably happy that it is almost done and dusted. I got the impression he will attempt to interfere with Dorado, actually. He showed an interest in the ability to manipulate memories."

"Manipulating memories is not the goal of the project."

"I made him aware of that. But the fact that it was possible was of interest."

Not entirely comfortable with the associations of such an interest, Severus went on, "But for now he is interested in Orion?"

"Yes. I’ll have Mortimer Littlewood take over your role. He was disappointed to be missed in the initial selection process, so no doubt he won’t object. It should be an effortless switch."

"Heart will be pleased."

Regulus grinned, "I’ve heard. Surprised you put so much weight to the gossiping of the staff, though –“

An owl suddenly began tapping at the window, garnering their interest, interrupting Severus’ prepared retort.

Severus stood, making his way over, and retrieving the letter the bird was delivering.

Severus eyed it suspiciously, waving his wand over it checking for anything unusual, as he walked over to hand the correspondence to his friend.

"For you. It has been redirected from Aurelius."

Regulus took it from him curiously, unfolding it without the care that was warranted, particularly considering the most recent threats to his life.

Severus stood over him, watching him with undisguised interest.

Within a second, Regulus' face had paled and he shot to his feet.

"Regulus," Severus grabbed his arm, startled by the frantic look in his eyes, "Regulus, what –"

Regulus slammed the note he had been reading against Severus' chest – which he quickly grabbed – before Regulus stumbled to the fireplace, threw in some floo powder and cried out Evelyn's address, before disappearing through.

With growing panic, Severus quickly looked down at the note:

Black,

Your kind sent my family to their graves. Now yours have joined them and you will finally know the pain that I have suffered. May they burn in hell.

* * *

It was Christmas.

Regulus Black had loved Christmas as a child.

When he was young his family was both admired and envied.

They were the perfect example of the ideal wizarding family. Being a Black meant something.

He and Sirius would be brothers and play and fight over whatever gifts they had received. And, later that day, their cousins and aunt and uncle would join them, and they would play games and dance and be merry, the way that was expected of a big family Christmas.

That all stopped when Andromeda left.

But even then, his parents would still celebrate Christmas with him and his brother, albeit less wildly.

It wasn't until Sirius left that things had gotten really bad.

The first Christmas after he left; that was the worst.

Until now.

Nothing compared to this.

Christmas 1986.

Because all those things still stood except, now, Evelyn was dead.

And his son was lying in a hospital bed having been in critical condition for four days. Only the night before had he finally awoken, briefly, and the Healers had informed Regulus that he would survive.

He still felt sick.

Malachi didn't know yet. He didn't know his mother was gone.

Regulus reached for his hand, holding it gently in his, and pressed it to his lips.

Malachi stirred and opened his eyes.

He peered at his father in bewilderment for a moment – as if he couldn’t quite believe his father were there – before a slow smile spread across his face, "Dad."

Regulus gave him a small smile in response, in an attempt to conceal his own troubles, "Merry Christmas, Beansprout."

His little boy's brow furrowed in confusion, before his eyes landed on the little pile of presents that sat upon the table next to his bed.

His eyes widened, excitedly, and he tried to push himself up into a seated position, only to whimper and fall back weakly.

"Here," Regulus whispered, moving closer and slipping a hand beneath him.

He gently pulled up upwards and propped up some pillows behind his back, before he pressed a kiss to his son's forehead.

Malachi smiled again, looking tiredly in the direction of the gifts.

His eyes were eager but he didn't say anything.

Regulus reached for one of them, "These are for you."

He handed the first to him.

Malachi's smile widened and he took it excitedly, but didn't make a move to open it. Instead, he looked in the direction of the door with some impatience.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Malachi looked at him with a frown.

"Don't I have to wait for Mum?"

Regulus swallowed, a sudden tightness in his chest overwhelming him at the question.

Not today.

Not on Christmas.

"No, that's okay. Your Mum's busy just now."

Malachi's frown deepened at the statement and he glanced in the direction of the door again before back at Regulus. Regulus offered an encouraging nod and Malachi smiled and began to open the first of the few gifts he had been given.

Regulus saw someone step into the room out the corner of his eye and turned in their direction.

Severus nodded in greeting, which Regulus returned, before he made his way over to them as Malachi thanked his father for the first gift.

Regulus handed another to him, then set the other few on the bed, allowing Malachi to continue opening them as he stood and indicated to Severus to come to the corner of the room.

"I assume you haven't told him?" Severus' asked, quietly, when they were out of earshot.

"No. I can't. It's Christmas."

"The longer you leave it –"

"I know. Tomorrow."

"He's going to start asking questions."

"Please, Severus."

Regulus turned his face away from him, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what was happening and drew in a breath that sounded more like a strangled gasp. He felt Severus' hand on his arm and willed himself to remain composed.

"Dad?"

Regulus drew in a breath, quickly arranging himself, before he turned and forced a smile, "Yes, Malachi?"

Malachi held up the wizarding comic book with a bright smile; "Thanks! I really wanted this."

Regulus nodded, his smile small but genuine this time.

Malachi was always grateful for the simpliest of things.

What did he do to deserve this?

"I know. You're welcome, Son."

Malachi turned his smile to Severus, though he was beginning to look weaker, the exertion clearly too much for him, still.

"Merry Christmas, Severus."

Severus stepped towards him, pulling out a wrapped gift from his robes, surprising both Malachi and Regulus.

"Merry Christmas, Malachi."

Severus held the package out to him.

Malachi looked at the gift with wide eyes, before tentatively reaching out and tugging it from his Godfather's hand.

"Thanks," he said, as he began to almost reverently remove the paper from it.

Regulus smiled gratefully at him, while Severus attempted to avoid his eyes. Malachi pulled the boxed item from the wrapping paper, revealing a toy snitch.

He looked up at Severus with wide eyes, "What is it?"

"It's called a snitch. A toy one, of course. They are used in Quidditch games. Your father will show you how to use it. He used to have to catch them when he was at Hogwarts."

Malachi's eyes brightened as he glanced between the two of them, clearly pleased to have been given a gift that would link him to his father.

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome," Severus tilted his head towards him, accepting his thanks, before glancing at Regulus as Malachi began studying the item more closely.

He spoke quietly, "Andromeda has decided to shut down operations over Christmas. We reopen January 5th."

Under normal circumstances Regulus would have disagreed. Would have insisted they remain open. The Counselling Department at least. Christmas Day was one of the most popular times that clients wanted to come together; to discuss what had happened; to try and accept what had happened in the war.

For the first time, Regulus didn't care.

"Very well. Could you explain it all to Lucius and Narcissa over dinner?"

Severus held his look for a moment before he spoke, "Actually I have cancelled my plans to dine with them this evening."

Regulus was startled at the declaration, "You have? Are you going back to Hogwarts."

"No. Merlin! I have arranged for Kreacher to prepare a Christmas meal and bring it to us here."

Regulus was silent for a moment, overcome by thankfulness and fondness. He felt a smile tug; "You don't have to –"

"I am aware of that."

He went on, half-heartedly, "I don't mind –"

"It is all arranged."

Regulus swallowed before he nodded and spoke quietly, "Thanks, Sev."

* * *

Harry was laughing, loudly, with complete happiness and it was as if all of the troubles he had been put through for the past few months had fallen away.

It was moments like this that Lily lived for.

That she treasured.

"Mum, make him stop!" Harry gasped out through his laughter, wiggling and grabbing at Sirius' hands frantically as they tickled his waist.

Lily giggled from her spot on the couch next to Remus, "Oh, I'm afraid I can't help you, Sweetheart."

"Mum! Please!"

"I heard you're getting a couple of weeks off work," Remus remarked to her, as Harry's squeals intensified.

"A week and a half," she clarified, "They didn't give us a reason."

"I'm sure Harry's happy about that," Remus said, as he glanced in the boy's direction, "Good timing, what with him broken off from school."

"Yes, I suppose," she nodded, before she went on, "There's a Learning Centre at the Foundation; sort of a school for wizarding children. I was thinking about maybe sending Harry there."

"Really? I thought you wanted him to go to muggle school?"

"Well, I do...But Dumbledore made some good points when I spoke with him. He said it may be beneficial for him to begin learning magic earlier and to spend some time with other wizarding children."

"When did you speak with Dumbledore?"

"Last week. He asked me to Hogwarts."

"Just for that? To talk about Harry?"

"Sirius thought it was strange, too," she stated, before she went on, "What do you think?"

"Well...I suppose it's up to you, isn't it?"

She marvelled at Remus' ability to be completely without advice when she asked for it, compared to his frequent suggestions whenever his help and opinions are unwanted. However, not wanting to shatter the comfortable atmosphere they currently had going on, she didn't remark on that.

Instead she just shrugged, "I suppose there's time to think about it. I'll ask Harry how he feels."

"You know he would far rather go to a place where he can learn magic."

"Well, he won't be able to actually practice magic and he has some friends at school that he may not want to leave."

"Does Ron attend the Learning Centre?"

"Ron Weasley? Do you really think Molly and Arthur would send their son to a place where Lucius Malfoy is a shareholder?"

Remus grinned, "Well, I wouldn't have thought you would want to either. Or Dumbledore, for that matter."

"Well, it's part of the building I work in. I've seen what goes on there. It looks like it could be good for him."

She smiled as Harry suddenly threw himself at her, seeking refuge from Sirius; his face red and tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks, "Mum, help me!"

She laughed, wrapping her arms around him, while he peeked over one of them at Sirius who was grinning wickedly from the floor.

He stood and the three of them chuckled as Harry cautiously moved in closer to Lily.

"Well, it's almost twelve. I better get over to Andie's."

Harry shot upright with a frown, "I thought you were staying here for Christmas?"

"I am," Sirius said with a reassuring smile and reached over to ruffle his hair, "But I have to make the rounds, don't I? I've got Dora's present here," he added, lifting the only wrapped present left from under the tree. He gave Harry a one-armed hug on his way to the door, "I expect fantastic deserts when I get back."

Harry looked at Lily with a bright smile, suddenly reminded of their usual Christmas ritual, "Are we gonna bake?"

She smiled, "We are."

He gave her a wide, excited smile, before jumped down from her lap, "Are you helping us, Uncle Remus?"

"I am making the rest of the food," Remus stated, indicating in the direction of the over where the turkey was already cooking.

Harry grinned, grabbing each of their hands and pulling until they be stood up, "Let's go! Bye Uncle Sirius!"

* * *

"Pumpkin pie, pecan tarts and cherry pie. No mincemeat pies this year. Your favourite, I know, but Harry really doesn't like them. It's funny, he's become a lot more assertive about his own likes and dislikes this year. I imagine he's going to be a very difficult teenager."

James stared at her.

"It really was lovely today. Sirius and Remus managed to get along, which was nice to see after everything that's been going on. Don't worry about that, though; it's just silly stuff."

Lily hadn't told him about Peter Pettigrew.

About Harry's confusion.

Or about Remus kissing her.

She told him less now. She even visited less. She only spoke about silly things. Insignificant things. Things that had happened that day, simply a recount of the events, as if she were a little girl keeping a diary.

6am: Woken up by Harry.  
6.03am: Watched Harry opening presents.  
6.30am: Opened own presents.  
9am: Julia visited.  
Noon: Started baking with Harry. Sirius went to visit his family.  
2pm: Sirius came home.  
5pm: Dinner.  
6pm: Sang Christmas carols.  
7pm: Went to visit James. Alone.

Both Sirius and Remus had visited, separately, in the morning.

St Mungos had Christmas music drifting down the halls.

And there were Carollers going around between the wards, as well as volunteers making rounds with little wrapped gifts; boxes of sweets and Christmas books.

Decorations were out wherever decorations could possibly be and the staff appeared to be doing their best to put on a happy face and an upbeat attitude, despite the fact that most of them probably wanted to be at home with their own families.

That would be her, one day, once she had completed her training.

Lily glanced at James and wondered if he had noticed the person who hadn't visited that day.

Harry.

She and Sirius had both offered to take him but he had refused.

He hadn't given a reason – though it was obvious why he wouldn’t – and neither of them wanted to push for one after what had happened the last time he had come.

But the message was clear to them both.

He wanted nothing to do with James.

They could tell him that James was his father all they wanted, but Harry wouldn't accept it. He didn't want it. He wanted normality; a dad to play with and to come home to.

It wasn't fair what he had to live without.

And yet there was nothing she could do to make it better.

Even the promise that his father could return, that she was doing all she could to make that happen, wasn't enough to console him.

He wanted a dad, but he didn't want his dad; so, where was the answer?

The idea of Sirius or Remus, whom Harry had set his hopes on, was unthinkable to her. And while Harry's devotion towards his father was non-existent, hers was still there.

But it was diminishing, despite her best efforts.

She was trying to hold onto it.

To hope.

And then she remembered what everyone had been telling her. That she had to let go. That she had to move on.

And in the past she couldn't. Something within her was holding on, something she couldn't control. Something wouldn't let her let go. It just wasn't possible for her to do.

To imagine a life without her husband by her side.

But now something had changed.

Now, she realised, that it was no longer that she couldn't.

It was that she didn't want to.

It was something she had gradually come to realise as Harry's pain become more apparent to her. As her pain had become more apparent to him. That, deep down inside, if she wanted to, if she let herself; she just might be able to let go.

But the thought wasn't comforting.

It was heartbreaking and she was wracked with guilt just thinking about it.

She could let go; she could move on. She could walk away and leave her husband lying here and forget about everything that they had suffered and she could be happy.

But could she live with herself if she were to abandon him?

Could she ever forgive herself for walking away?

* * *

Malachi had been drifting in and out of sleep, weak and exhausted, for the duration of the day which Severus noticed made it easier for Regulus to conceal the truth about Evelyn's death from him.

The boy asked frequently, each time he woke, if his mother was there yet.

It was Christmas, and Malachi knew well enough that she wouldn't allow the day to go by without making an appearance. Not when he was sick in hospital and not if she could help it.

Malachi was only five but he was observant.

And Severus was certain he had noticed Regulus' pain as they had sat eating the dinner their house elves had delivered to them. But Malachi didn't feel comfortable enough with Regulus to ask him why he was distressed.

That, in itself, was something that could prove to be a problem in the upcoming weeks, once the boy returned home with them. Permanently.

Only two people that Severus had ever cared about had died. His mother and his father. And the latter was questionable in the caring department. He was affected by his death, of course, but it didn't come close to the grief he felt when he lost his mother. But he had known when both of them were dying. Both were due to illness, so there was time for goodbyes.

With Evelyn there were no goodbyes. There was just love. And passion. And a promise for the future.

At least, that's what Severus gathered from what he knew of her and Regulus' relationship.

He imagined the only time he had come close to feeling the grief his friend was currently going through was long ago, during the war, when he spent every day fearing for Lily's life.

But Lily had survived. And fear and grief weren't the same. The idea of someone dying was nothing compared to the reality of it. Of realising they were gone and that you had to keep going.

It wasn't something Severus ever wanted to experience.

So, he really had no idea what he ought to say or do for Regulus to ease his pain and he dreaded facing the boy once he learned that the only person he truly felt close to, his mother, was gone.

He couldn't relate to that. He was twenty-two years old when his mother died. A grown man, with his own life. Not a child.

And Severus had had people when it had happened to him; he had had friends.

As far as he knew, Malachi was home schooled. So, he really did only have his mother and a broken relationship with a troubled father who truly had no idea how to deal with him and who had to go through the same pain of loss right along with him.

Severus stepped out of the room, wishing to escape the morbidity of his thoughts.

Music was playing – happy, joyful music – which was incredibly inappropriate for a hospital.

What good do such cheerful tunes do at a time like this, really, other than to serve as a reminder of the complete lack of joy one must be experiencing when they find themselves spending Christmas Day visiting or, worse, actually lying in a hospital bed.

Severus stepped out of the hallway and into the courtyard, eager to escape the false merriment of the building.

The area was well populated with patients and those who were visiting but he noticed there was still a bench vacant nearby and made himself as comfortable as he could on the cold, hard surface.

It was utterly freezing.

Heavy snow had fallen the night before and piles of it were stacked in corners of the courtyard that had been scraped off of the pathways.

Children were jumping around in the piles, throwing balls of snow at one another, laughing.

Severus sighed when he noticed a collection of carollers emerge from the building, little books clutched in their hands, as they took up a spot in the middle of the area.

"Dashing through the snow..."

Severus rolled his eyes and stood, preparing to return back indoors.

He turned, walking with more force than necessary, and found himself run into someone who was making their way down the path.

He quickly reached out a hand to steady the person he had bumped into.

"Excuse me –" He stopped, staring in surprise at the woman before him, "Lily."

Her eyes were also wide with surprise but after a moment she smiled and adjusted herself; "Hi. You're in a hurry."

Severus shook his head, "No. No, not really."

He glanced at the carollers, who were continuing to bellow out Jingle Bells, while the children in the area had eagerly began singing along. He looked back at Lily before he indicated the bench. She smiled and nodded and the two took a seat where he had just vacated.

"Merry Christmas," she said.

He was silent a moment.

"Merry Christmas, indeed."

The two of them were silent again, though it was comfortable, and he found her presence soothing after the events of the past few days.

"I was just..." Lily hesitated, as she glanced in the direction of the building, beginning to state her reasons for visiting and then obviously deciding an explanation wasn't needed.

It wasn't.

Severus knew well enough who would draw Lily to their bedside at St Mungo’s on Christmas Day.

"The Foundation has closed down over the holidays," she said instead.

Severus nodded; "It has."

"Do you know why?"

Severus was quiet for a moment, wondering if Regulus would mind further elaboration.

He glanced at her and noticed the concern in her eyes and he wondered if his own feelings – his own distress – was so apparent.

The softness in her expression – the obvious care in her eyes – made him weaker and he allowed himself to confide in her.

"Regulus Black's lover was murdered last weekend."

Any relaxedness about her expression was gone and she looked at him, shocked.

"Oh. Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

Severus lowered his eyes, feeling an unusual wave of sadness and blamed his over-emotional response on her proximity.

"I...are you okay? Were you friends?"

"Yes. We were. You met her at the party. Evelyn Redway."

Lily's expression dropped further, as putting a face to the victim obviously made the situation all the more real, "She had a son."

Severus nodded, "Malachi. He was attacked, also."

Lily looked horrified.

"He is recovering," he went on, unable to stop now that he had started, "We learned last night that he would survive," he glanced in the direction of the building, where the boy and his friend were currently; "He is Regulus' son. My Godson."

"Severus, that's awful," she whispered.

He was looking at the ground and he could see Lily looking at him, having turned herself around so she was facing him fully, though she seemed unsure as what to do or say. He noticed her hand reach out, press against his arm. And, a moment later, she seemed to realise there was nothing she could say to make the situation any more bearable. Instead, he felt her hand, which was impossibly warm in this freezing weather, slip into his, squeezing it gently.

Severus drew in a trembling breath and then squeezed hers back.

* * *

Lily had been visibly distressed when she had returned from the hospital – more so than usual when she visited James – and Sirius found himself unable to tell her what he had been rehearsing all week.

It was Christmas.

He had been determined to stay for Christmas.

To be there for Harry and for Dora.

But now Christmas was over. It was after midnight.

Boxing Day hardly counted and the children couldn't really appreciate the meaning of New Year, anyway.

Sirius had waited too long.

What was he doing, anyway?

Sitting around, playing games, joking around, pretending like everything was okay.

It wasn't okay.

Nothing was okay.

James was gone. There was no hope of him ever returning.

And Lily was struggling, and it was becoming more and more unbearable to see her wasting her life away – wasting her time – hoping for something that would never happen.

And the look in her eyes, that little bit of devastation he created every time he said it to her, was becoming too much now.

And Remus was slipping away.

No, not slipping; he was gone.

At least to him.

Sirius had lost him.

It was no surprise, really. Their relationship had been strained for years, yes.

But Sirius had never really looked at it as gone. Just something that was broken, which time would repair.

But that wasn't happening. It was becoming worse.

And the look in Remus' eyes when he had confronted him about Lily the previous week had made him see it.

Remus was lost. Not just to him, but to himself.

And then there was a little boy. Harry. He was confused, distressed. He had lost any connection he may have ever had with James.

The little boy had been robbed of his father.

All of this; it was the remains of the destruction caused by one Peter Pettigrew.

And right now, at this moment, Peter Pettigrew was running free. Had escaped paying the price for it all and was out there, somewhere, laughing at them all.

Sirius couldn't pretend anymore.

He couldn't sit back and let things be.

Not like this.

Peter Pettigrew would pay for what he had done to them and Azkaban didn't even come close to an appropriate punishment for it.

Sirius scribbled a quick note to Lily, tucking it beneath the tea pot he knew she would use in the morning, before he shrugged into his cloak and stepped out the door, into the cold darkness of the night.


	13. January 1987: New Year Blues

What would it take to finally break Regulus Black?

That was the question on Severus' mind as he entered the doors of the Foundation.

He imagined those attempting to destroy him will be reflecting on the very same issue, if they happen to see the man in question.

Of course, Regulus was already broken. Severus knew that.

Whether or not Regulus knew that he knew was another matter and he found himself wondering if he ought to have confronted the situation more directly following Evelyn's murder.

Instead, Severus had made himself available but kept his distance; and Regulus appeared to appreciate that distance, spending his time either at St Mungo's with his son or locked up in his bedroom in their home. The silence charm cast over the room making it very evident that he wished for privacy as he mourned his loss.

Severus understood.

If the situation was reversed, he would also wish to be alone as he grieved. And, for that reason, he had simply left him to it.

That, and the fact, that Severus Snape was most definitely not the type of man who would sit someone down and _demand_ that they pour out their innermost thoughts and feelings to him. As far as he was concerned, that was Narcissa or Andromeda's job.

However, while all this was going on, Severus was under the certain impression that Regulus was grieving, mourning, dealing with what had happened. That he was allowing himself to wallow in self-hatred, self-pity, regret, grief, and whatever else was necessary as part of the process.

Therefore, when Regulus had breezed into the room on the Monday morning, dressed smartly, looking fresh, that typical Regulus Black smile on his face; to say that Severus was surprised was an understatement.

Furthermore, his friend has presented him with a pile of documents that he had obviously spent many hours on producing; the business projections and objectives of the Foundation for the year, as well as plans for potential projects, planned Board meetings, Learning Centre trips, among other things that Severus had not yet got around to studying.

In was the typical Regulus Black way of coping; burying his head in the sand and plastering a big smile on his face.

Though the smile didn't meet his eyes that morning and Severus found himself unsure over how to broach the situation, remembering how the conversation had went that morning;

" _I…Are you planning on returning to the Foundation today?" Severus was staring at his friend in complete, undisguised bafflement, as Regulus began gathering up his briefcase, piling in parchments._

" _Of course. We've lost over a week of productivity; I can't just sit around here, can I?"_

" _Well…it is hardly…don't you think…" Severus was at a loss._

" _I have completed most of the Commencement Year paperwork," Regulus stated, as he handed the documents to him; "If you have time?"_

" _Yes, of course…" Severus took the documents, slowly, glancing down and fingering through them in astonishment at the number of sheets. He cleared his throat; "Have you had any word on Malachi's release from St Mungo's? You know you still have not prepared a room for him."_

" _The Healers are still unsure if it is safe for him to leave. They want to observe him in case any complications arise."_

That was another thing that was confusing to Severus.

Malachi had been in St Mungo's for sixteen days; eleven of which were after he had regained consciousness and he was certain that if any complications were going to arise, they would have seen signs of that already.

After Regulus had told Malachi about his mother's death, the boy hadn't spoken for three days. The Healers had thought that _that_ was a complication of the treatments that he had received; perhaps that was why they wished to keep him so long.

But anyone could see that the boy was attempting to stomach the news that his mother was dead, gone.

And that he, like Regulus, wanted time to process that. Now that Severus thought more about it, he realised that Malachi's way of dealing with the event was rather similar to his father's; he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to acknowledge it and instead focused on other things that were completely unrelated. At least, that's how it went after the first day of tears and questions and the following three days of silence.

That could be a problem.

Though he, himself, was hardly the sort of man to break down and weep over every misfortune sent his way, Severus knew that at least an acknowledgement and, eventually, acceptance of what had happened was essential in maintaining one's sanity.

And if Regulus and Malachi continued to remain in denial, refusing to grieve or deal with their loss, it could lead to greater issues in future.

Though, for completely selfish reasons, Severus did find that there were benefits to himself due to their reserve. There was little awkwardness; there was no breaking of household items; no spontaneous bursts of emotion.

While Severus was certain he would be completely useless if he were ever to find himself in a position where he had to be 'the shoulder' to Regulus' tears, while offering meaningless promises of a bright future, it was not necessary for him to dwell on such a thing as he had not been put in the situation where he was reminded how incredibly incompetent he was when it came to dealing with other people's emotions.

A familiar figure caught his attention and he turned slightly, though he didn't stop his own footsteps, glancing in her direction.

Lily.

He fought the urge to turn and go after her, to greet her for the first time since the holidays. He hadn't seen her again since their brief encounter on Christmas Day and the small gesture of comfort she had offered had left him wishing, for the remaining duration of their time apart, that he had a right to contact her outside of work.

But the thought was silly and he had pushed it to the back of his mind; he had no reason to contact her, after all, what with operations being suspended, and the last thing he wanted was to come across Sirius Black. Times were trying enough without dealing with that imbecile.

And he didn't particularly want to see her son either.

It appeared that said son was with her now; and seemed to be particularly petulant as Lily guided him down the corridor.

He had known, of course, about Harry Potter.

Had known about him for years.

He couldn't really see him, just the back of his head; but it was enough to make the fact that Lily was married, that she actually had a child, all real to him.

He watched as she stopped and knelt down in front of the boy.

She smiled, deep love clear in her eyes, at her son, brushed the hair off his face, said something to him.

She frowned, obviously not pleased with what he had said, and stroke the side of his hair.

The boy shook his head. Lily sighed and pulled him in for a hug, which the boy appeared to return grudgingly; and then she stood, taking his hand again, and headed further down the hallway, disappearing out of sight.

It was a side of her he had never seen. A side of her he had never, would never, know.

She was a mother.

* * *

"Mum, I don't want to!"

But, unfortunately, Sirius had made this decision for her when he had disappeared just over a week ago.

There was no way that Harry could remain at muggle Primary School if Sirius wasn't there to collect him once school ended; and Remus, as much as he wanted to help, couldn't be there for them with the consistency that they needed.

So Lily had taken Dumbledore's suggestion from the previous month and enrolled Harry at the Learning Centre for Wizarding Children at the Foundation; there were waiting lists, but employees of the organisation were guaranteed a place for their children if they so wished, so they had agreed to take him immediately upon enquiry.

"Sweetheart, you'll love it here," Lily attempted to convince Harry, as she led him towards the Phoenix Wing where the centre was located; "You'll get to make lots of new friends; friends who know all about magic, so it doesn't have to be a secret."

Harry perked up a little at that, though she had already used the same argument with him before, when she had first explained the change; "But, what about my muggle friends?"

"You can still see them; just not at school, that's all."

"Ron doesn't go here."

"No. No, he doesn't; but there are other children. Harry, really, you will enjoy it; you get to learn all about magic and things about witches and wizards -"

"No maths?" Harry's eyes widened, excitedly, at the prospect.

Lily gave him a grin; "I'm afraid English and mathematics is something you'll still be learning."

Harry pouted slightly, continuing to follow; "What about Uncle Sirius, Mum? What if he waits for me at my old school?"

"He won't."

"How do you know? He's been away a long time; he'll be back soon, won't he? He might think he has to pick me up."

"If he does, then your old teachers will explain to him that you have changed school. There's no need to worry."

"But I miss him; how long is his trip again? You said he wouldn't be away long."

Lily winced, remembering the lie she had told her son.

That Sirius had to go away for a little while to help his family; that he would be back soon. Harry hadn't taken the news well; but he took it better than he would have if she had told him that his Uncle Sirius had simply ran off, with no plan, very little explanation, with the very likely intention of murdering Peter Pettigrew and ending up in Azkaban, leaving on a hastily scribbled note explaining his actions:

_Lily,_

_I have to do this. I can't just sit around while Peter runs free. Don't worry about me. I'll check in when I can. Give Harry a kiss for me._

_I'm sorry._

_Love, Sirius_

Lily had burned the letter instantly; it was silly, really. Harry wouldn't be able to read the whole letter; but he would be able to pick out some words; words like 'Sirius' and 'sorry' and those two words would have his imagination running wild.

So she had destroyed it, not wanting to cause him more distress, explaining the situation only to Remus.

It was an unusual feeling; to be both furious at and terrified for someone.

It wasn't something she had felt often; it wasn't something she had felt in a long time. Not since she was at Hogwarts, when she had told her best friend to walk away.

And so Severus came to mind again, as he kept doing recently.

Most likely due to the absence of his company; it took her a couple of days after Christmas to realise that she missed him.

Missed their conversations; their dinners; the way he'd roll his eyes at the silly things she'd say; the way his presence made her forget the troubles that were going on at home.

Severus didn't care, in some cases didn't even know, that Sirius and Remus' friendship was on the brink of collapse; that her son was growing increasing disenchanted by his father; that Harry was confused about their living situation; that her husband would probably never wake up; that Peter Pettigrew had escaped from Azkaban; that Sirius had up and left in the middle of the night.

All these things, things that haunted both her waking and sleeping hours, were something that Severus had absolutely no knowledge or care about. So he never spoke about them.

Never questioned her about them.

Never reminded her about them.

Instead, when she was with him it was a small reminder of the girl she was once; a sense of the person she could have been, if fate had dealt her a better hand.

Her time with him was her escape from the cruel realities of this world.

* * *

"Hi."

Severus couldn't help the small smile he gave as Lily took a seat across from him at their regular table, too pleased to finally see her again; "Lily."

"How was…" Lily stopped, thinking better of it; "Um…how are you?"

"I am well, thank you. How was your Christmas?" he asked the question she had been beginning to ask.

"Oh. It was…okay. It was alright, I suppose."

"Just alright? I was under the impression you had a son which, for parents, often makes the day more enjoyable." He remembered seeing Harry Potter with her earlier that day; "Have you enrolled your son in the Learning Centre?"

Lily looked surprised at the question, this being the first time he had ever broached the subject of her home life, and he wondered if he had been presumptuous by asking. Before either could say anything, a waitress arrived to take their orders, and by the time they had given them he assumed that he would not receive an answer to the question at all; and vowed to ensure he thought more carefully about the appropriateness of his questions in the future.

"Yes. Dumbledore suggested -"

"Dumbledore?" Severus interrupted; it was rude, but he was so surprised by the mention of the name that he blurted it out without thinking. He cleared his throat; "I apologise."

Lily raised an eyebrow, curiously; "Yes, Dumbledore. Well, he suggested it may be better for Harry to interact more with wizarding children; begin to develop his knowledge with magic."

"Did he give a reason as to why?" Severus asked, attempting to make himself sound nonchalant, though he was curious as to Dumbledore's interference.

"Only what I just said," Lily shrugged, and then went on; "I wasn't sure about it at first; Harry isn't too keen, but…" she glanced at him; "Well, Sirius disappeared over a week ago. I'm not sure if you heard about Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes, I did hear."

"Sirius is determined to find him and return him to Azkaban."

Somehow Severus doubted that Sirius Black would have the restraint to simply catch the rat and peacefully bring him back. More likely his body parts would be quartered and hung on display for all to see; this is what happens when you cross James Potter and Sirius Black.

But he doubted that Lily would take the suggestion well, and he really wasn't interested in getting into a long, drawn out conversation about Black, so kept silent.

When he made no response, she went on; "So there wasn't really much choice. The Learning Centre keeps the children all day, after classes are complete, and with Sirius gone it's better for Harry to be closer to me, rather than hiring a stranger to take care of him-"

"What about the wolf?"

Lily looked at him sharply, obviously disapproving of the nickname; "For obvious reasons, Remus isn't always available."

"Excuse me?"

The two of them glanced up at the intruder; Andromeda Tonks. They exchanged greetings, while she kept anxious eyes on him; "Severus, can I had a word?"

"Yes, of course," he said as he stood, he gave Lily an apologetic glance, before following Andromeda to a table at the further side of the room, away from the prying ears of the others in the room; "Is something wrong?"

"Well," she raised an eyebrow; "The information speaks for itself, I'm afraid. I suppose you know who this is about?"

Until she asked, he hadn't had any idea why she had sought his company; now, however he was quite certain; "Your cousin, I suppose? What has he done?"

"Hmm," Andromeda rolled her eyes; "I did try to speak to him myself; but I think you're the only one who can really get through to him –"

"If this is about his faux-buoyant attitude –"

"It's not - though I suppose that's something to be concerned with as well – it's about Malachi."

* * *

Black or blue?

Why black or blue? Why not something brighter; why not orange or green? Yellow or pink?

Green, perhaps, would be best of them. The others may be a bit of a push for the class uniforms. Though the Slytherin connections may be a bit much.

"Regulus!"

He jumped, glancing at Severus, who had been standing on the other side of the desk for the past twenty minutes; the perfect picture of concern, agitation, apprehension and disappointment. He had disappointed him.

"Just stay out of it, Severus. Andie's already been on at me about it."

"Your cousin is under the correct opinion that her advice had little effect." He went on but Regulus didn't hear him, glancing down at the parchment he had been writing on.

Three potential trips; Edinburgh; London; Hogsmeade. Perhaps they should start looking overseas?

What would the children enjoy best?

"Regulus, are you listening to me?"

"Severus, I'm really busy –"

"Do not think you can dissuade me with your excuses, Regulus; what is the meaning of this? The Healers were willing to release Malachi three days ago, why are you keeping him in St Mungo's?"

Regulus felt his hands shaking and quickly sat on them, as he would do when he was a child to prevent himself from grabbing something he was interested in.

Severus shook his head, pressing his palms on the desk, leaning towards him; "Regulus? Explain it to me. I am not here to judge."

Regulus avoided his eyes, glancing across the room and catching sight of a little ornamental snitch that was sitting on one of the bookcases. Evelyn had given that to him.

He looked away from it; eyes landing on the calendar on the wall. Eyes going to the 23rd. Twenty three.

Twenty three.

Evelyn was twenty three.

Just twenty three.

Even twice that would be too young to die.

"He is your son, Regulus. That is something you cannot run away from."

Regulus met Severus' eyes at that.

He cleared his throat; "I haven't been able to find a place for him yet."

"A place – What are you talking about?"

"Well, Narcissa can't take him. And –"

"What – _Narcissa_? Regulus, the boy is obviously going to return to Newton's with us."

Regulus stood, turning his back to him, shaking his head; "No. No…he can't." He caught Severus' incredulous look and went on; "I've been in contact with Evelyn's brother. He said he might be able to –"

"Regulus, have you completely lost your mind? This is not some pet, some object you can just ship off because it is an inconvenience to you."

"I'm aware of that," Regulus snapped, turning around to look at him; "I'm trying to do what's right for him."

"And being raised by Evelyn's brother, one of the men who disowned her simply for becoming pregnant with him, is what you deem to be the correct thing to do for him?"

"What? You think _we_ could do any better? Theodore has kids; he knows how to raise them. What do we know about raising a child?"

" _We_ do not need to know anything," Severus pointed out, clearly not pleased with him dumping any sort of parental responsibility on his shoulders; "This is your son, Regulus. _Yours._ That means something."

"Yes; it means that as soon as people know, as soon as people find out that I have a son, he's put in danger. Who's to say what happened to Evelyn won't happen to Malachi?"

"That is hardly a concern, considering the person responsible is already aware of Malachi's connection –"

"We don't know that. For all we know, they were just after Evie and Malachi just happened to be there."

"Oh, wake up, Regulus! The boy needs you. He has just lost his mother; the last thing he needs right now is for you to make, yet another, demonstration of your inadequate skills as a father."

Regulus glared at him; "Like you just said, I'm a terrible father. What makes you think I could be good for him?"

"Unfortunately people do not have the luxury of choosing their parents."

"He deserves more –"

"He deserves a father. You may be lacking in paternal skills now, but that is something that can only be changed with practice."

Regulus turned away from him again. He had done it before; he had tried. He couldn't be a father. Malachi deserved better than what he could give him. And there was still someone out there; someone capable of anything. Who wouldn't think twice about hurting Malachi if he knew he was his son.

He almost jumped when Severus appeared at his side. He glanced at him, then away, not meeting his eyes.

"If you walk away now, Regulus; Malachi will never forgive you. Don't make the same mistake with him that you did with Evelyn."

Regulus looked at him sharply; Severus held his eyes.

"After all; with a regrets list as long as yours, who would be crazy enough to add to it?"

* * *

Malachi's mum hated winter.

He did now too.

He remembered her once saying that the only good thing about winter was snow and Christmas and that Christmas only happens once and snow melts away so quickly that it isn't worth the three months of freezing cold weather.

She loved the spring.

She used to get excited when the first buds began to appear on the tree outside their house. She would take him down to the meadow to see all the new babies; the fawns; rabbit kits; fox cubs. Then she'd go around picking all the new plants and herbs that had just begun flowering and he would sit and draw or paint if the animals would stay still for it.

Once he had asked her if she could put a spell on them to freeze them in place for him to draw; she refused. That was cruel, she had said.

Now she was in heaven. But he once heard a story about someone who went to heaven; someone who came back to say hello to the people they loved. Maybe his mum would too.

He wondered what he would do this spring. Would his dad even care? Did he even know what he and his mother used to do?

His dad was always so busy. He was always off saving the world; that's what his mum would say. His dad would be a hero one day.

Malachi looked at his father; the hero. He wasn't so happy now. It made him look different. Older. But he supposed he wasn't happy either; and didn't his dad love his mum as well?

Dads love mums usually but his mum and dad were different.

But since he was so sad, he supposed that meant he did; he would never ask if he did. That was rude.

He had to be good. His best behavior. Just like his mum always told him whenever he spent time with his father.

He had cried when his dad told him his mum had died.

It made his dad cry too.

It was scary. His dad wasn't supposed to cry. His dad was brave. He was strong. He helped people.

So now he only cried when he knew his dad wasn't around.

"Does that sound okay, Malachi?"

His father had been telling him that he was going to go home with him and Severus. That he was going to live with them now. Always.

He didn't want to. He wanted to go to his own home. He wanted to go back home with his mum. Maybe if his dad had asked before Christmas, then he would have wanted to. Hadn't he always wanted to before? He had always wanted him and his mum to live with his dad.

"Malachi?"

He looked at his dad. He looked different. If his dad really was out saving people when he wasn't with them before, how come he couldn't save his mum? How come he was out saving the world but he couldn't save her?

But he was too scared to say that. He didn't want his dad to be angry. And he didn't want him to cry.

So Malachi nodded; and his dad smiled instead.

* * *

"Perhaps it is time you inform me of your reasons for interfering with my projects at the Foundation?"

Severus had found it easy to push aside his curiosity regarding Dumbledore's request to Regulus, due to the unexpected turn of events over Christmas. He had assumed the old man would contact him and inform him of his intentions when the time arose; however, now that he had began classes once again at Hogwarts, finding himself in the Dumbledore's company again without so much as an acknowledgement of what had transpired, he decided he would wait no longer; and had made his way to his mentor's office as soon as the opportunity arose after his final class.

"Ah. Then young Regulus has informed you of my request."

"Did you doubt that he would?"

"He appeared sincere when I spoke with him."

"What right do you have to demand that one of my closest friends withhold information from me?"

Dumbledore regarded him without any remorse or shame; instead only offered: "This is a war, Severus. Sometimes it is necessary for secrecy."

"War? Really, Professor? Pardon my bad memory; I have been under the impression that the war ended in 1981."

"You are well aware that the war has not ended; only postponed until Voldemort returns. In the meantime it is essential that we do all we can to prepare ourselves for that eventuality."

"Very well. Though I hardly see why secrecy is necessary in this case; obviously you will need my cooperation in the future regarding this, therefore you may as well bring me into your circle of secrecy," Severus said, raising an expectant eyebrow at him.

Dumbledore smiled slightly at him; "As you wish, my boy. It is regarding information that we need to acquire regarding what happened on October 31st 1981."

Severus hesitated, surprised at the information, before he went on; "You believe we can discover what happened the night the Longbottom's were killed? How? Everyone present that night was killed."

"Not everyone, Severus."

Severus held his look for a moment and then closed his eyes, shaking his head; "Neville Longbottom? You would force a child to re-live the moment his parents died?"

"From the information Regulus has provided me with that will not be necessary. Your project will make it possible to enter his mind and extract the memory."

"With the child's cooperation. Not to mention the Grandmother's. And it is not quite as Regulus explained it, I gather. The child and I would have to search for the memory together. It would be distressing."

"But necessary."

Severus averted his eyes, not entirely comfortable with what the old man was asking him to do. To invade the child's mind, revive his most painful memory, and then take it to use as a simple instrument in the war effort. Even he did not think Dumbledore could be so heartless.

"And for what reason do you wish to view this memory?" Severus asked, though he was certain he could guess the answer.

"It is important that we discover the events that led to Frank and Alice's death. What happened when Neville confronted Voldemort."

" _Confronted?"_

Dumbledore ignored him, going on; "What we learn will be imperative when the time comes for the boy to face him in the future. As you are well aware, Severus, it is of vital importance that we learn of Voldemort's weaknesses; and an infant has managed to do what none of us had been able to. We must discover how this happened."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; "Have you attempted legilemency?"

"I was unable to find the memory. It appears the boy is blocking it."

"You asked him if he remembered anything?"

"Of course. He doesn't. These are questions that you already know the answers to."

Severus released a sigh; "Very well. But I will not deal with the boy or his Grandmother; it is your responsibility to ensure their cooperation."

"Of course; of course," Dumbledore smiled, obviously pleased that he had agreed with little argument.

"What does Harry Potter have to do with your plans?"

Dumbledore's smile vanished.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing at all, Severus. What would make you think otherwise?"

"You have been interfering with his schooling."

"I have no sinister intentions, Severus; it is only friendly advice for Lily Potter. I grew fond of the family during the war; you are aware the Potters were Order Members."

Severus was uncertain if the old man was being honest. Knowing him, he probably wasn't; but he could tell from his stoic stance that he would receive no information from him regarding his question.

"I was not aware that Mrs Potter and yourself had renewed your acquaintance," Dumbledore went on, enquiringly.

"If you are so close to her that you are offering parenting advice then you must be aware that she is currently completing a Fellowship with the Foundation."

"Ah. Yes, I was aware."

The two of them fell silent.

"And she confides in you, does she?" Dumbledore was fighting a smile now; eyes twinkling.

Severus scowled; "We speak. That is all."

"Now now, Severus no need to be bashful. You forget I know all about –"

"Choose your words wisely, Professor. Do not think that I am the same boy who came crawling to you six years ago."

Dumbledore was smiling fully now; "Of course not. I wouldn't dare. Though I am pleased you have renewed your acquaintance. A confidant will do her good."

"She has friends."

"Apparently you are one of them."

"What of it?" Severus was becoming irritated now, wondering how the old man had managed to turn the conversation around on him. He felt as if he had just walked into a trap. Was this another relationship Dumbledore would use to pester him in the future?

Dumbledore only smiled again, not at all affected by Severus' annoyance; "Nothing at all, Severus. Like I said; I am pleased."

Severus couldn't help but think that the statement sounded like more of a threat.

* * *

"Mrs Gillan said I need to get this form signed," Harry stated, handing out a piece of parchment to her.

Lily took it from her son, glancing over it with a frown; "Harry, this is for piano lessons."

"I know."

Lily looked at him apologetically; "Sweetheart, of course if you want to learn piano then you can," she glanced down at the sheet again as she went on; "But these lessons are for people who have already started."

"But I have."

Lily looked at him sharply; "You have? When?"

"Uncle Sirius has been teaching me."

Lily was stunned at the information; "Your Uncle Sirius? Sirius plays the piano?"

"Yeah." Harry gave her a look that seemed to say; _don't you know anything, Mum?_

And she realised that maybe she didn't. It was the same question she found herself asking herself almost every day when it came to her son. How on Earth had they managed to get this by her?

Lily shook her head, noticing Harry was looking at her expectantly, and walked over to the desk, lifting a quill to sign it; "That's wonderful, Harry. Where has he been teaching you?"

"When we visit Mrs Tonks. She has a piano. Uncle Sirius said their mums and dads forced them to learn when they were little. But it's fun."

"I see. How long have you been learning?"

"Dunno. Ages. When's Uncle Sirius coming home?"

"I'm not sure."

"He still hasn't flooed or anything. How do you know he's okay?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Sweetheart. He's just very busy just now."

"How come I couldn't go with him?"

"Because you have school."

"You know _legally_ I don't have to go to school."

"Who told you that?" Lily looked at him with a frown.

"One of the boys at the Phoenix Centre. Goyle."

 _Goyle._ Lily frowned; wasn't Goyle senior tried for being a Death Eater?

"Well, what he told you isn't true. If you don't go to school then someone needs to come and teach you at home," Lily explained, rolling up the parchment she had signed after ensuring the ink had dried.

"He thought it was weird I went to muggle school. He said _real_ wizards don't do that."

"I went to muggle school," Lily handed the rolled up parchment to him, "And so did Uncle Remus. Don't we seem like real witches and wizards?"

He shrugged, "I guess he was lying."

Lily nodded, suddenly wondering if it was right to send him to a wizarding school. Wasn't he too young to be exposed to the kinds of prejudices that muggleborns and half-bloods were sure to encounter?

"Uncle Sirius could do that."

"Do what?"

"Teach me at home."

"Uncle Sirius isn't here. And he isn't qualified to teach you; you would need a proper tutor."

"Maybe if you flooed and saw him –"

"Harry, your Uncle Sirius will come home when he can."

Harry hadn't stopped talking about Sirius since she had explained that he had left; so many questions, so many innocent suggestions; they were becoming increasingly irritating and her anger that the man responsible grew with each one.

"What about Uncle Remus?"

"What about Uncle Remus?" Lily repeated, as she handed him his cloak.

"Maybe he could become a tutor and teach me; he's always saying he can't find a job."

Lily frowned, kneeling down so she was facing him; "Harry, is there something wrong at the Phoenix Centre? Is someone upsetting you?"

Harry looked confused at the question; "No. Why would they make me upset?"

Relieved at the obvious bafflement that anyone would attempt to hurt him, Lily rose to her feet and swung her cloak around herself; "It is just strange that you are asking to be home schooled. It's not something you've ever been interested in before."

Harry shrugged; "It seems like fun. Ron does it."

"Yes, but then you wouldn't get to see any other children. You wouldn't be able to make friends; or play. Or go on trips."

"Trips?" Harry's eyes brightened and she smiled at his excitement.

"Yes, trips. I believe they're planning one for next month."

"Really?" Harry's excitement grew; "We're doing a play as well, they said. Something for Valentine's Day."

"Oh, yes? Valentine's Day."

She had never liked Valentine's Day. But she disliked it even more now. She had only ever enjoyed one; Valentine's Day 1979; the day James proposed.

It had been a disaster of a meal; her parents had been visiting Petunia and Vernon so he had offered to make dinner for her at her house, burning everything except the raw salad that was to be served as a side dish and the ice cream they were having for desert, setting the smoke alarms off and worrying the neighbours.

The Bee Gees asked them 'how deep is your love?' while he got down on one knee and asked her the same.

"You see; you wouldn't be able to do those things if you were home schooled. It'd just be you."

Harry frowned, obviously not pleased with the idea; "Oh. Well...I guess school's better then."

Lily smiled, pulling the door open, and reaching out a hand to him; "Come on, you, let's go."

* * *

Malachi rubbed his hands against his trousers, glancing nervously around the large room. Long strips of parchment hung from the walls, badly done paintings obviously by children covering them and some of them hung off the wall making the place look worn. But everything was bright. Very bright. Colourful toys littered around the room; desks lined up along the middle in three rows; children his age, some maybe a little older, sat at them obviously not at all interested in the books before them.

"Hello Malachi."

He glanced up at the stranger who had addressed him. He didn't like meeting new people. He didn't know why; his parents always made it look so easy; talking. He didn't like it. He never knew what to say and half the time he got the impression that no one was really interested; they would just nod and say things like 'that's nice' or 'aren't you clever' or 'well, that's very interesting'. The only person who ever said anything any different was his mum and, when he was around, his dad.

Miss Quinn was nice too. But now he only got to see her on Saturdays. His dad wanted him to 'socialise'; which really meant he wanted him to go out and talk to these strangers who were now all staring at him curiously from their desks.

"Mrs Potter."

Malachi turned his attention to the woman his dad had spoken to; a smiling woman. And, as if to prove a point, the two began a brief, easy conversation. He glanced at the boy whose shoulder the woman had her hand on. The boy glanced at him briefly before he tugged himself out of the woman's grasp and made his way towards one of the desks.

His dad was still talking. Sometimes he wondered if his dad ever _stopped_ talking. Maybe that's why he was always away; no one could talk as much as him so he had to keep finding new people who would listen. And then they'd get bored and they'd move on. Severus didn't talk much. And he almost _never_ spoke to him. But he would sit and listen to his dad; would say things that he didn't really understand but he guessed he was making fun of his dad because his dad would roll his eyes and laugh.

They were funny sometimes. He would watch them and listen to them. Sometimes they would say such nasty things to each other; things he would _never dream_ of saying to another person; and the other one would just laugh or roll their eyes as if it was joke. As if it was funny. He never spoke to people like that. Maybe that's why he didn't have any friends. Though he had seen someone speak in a similar way to someone in the street once; and the other guy had punched him in the face. _That_ wasn't something he ever wanted to experience.

"Well, I'll see you at the end of the day, Beansprout," his dad said, finally stopping his conversation with the lady with the red hair, and kneeling down in front of him. He ruffled his hair and smiled; "I'll be right down the hall, so you don't have to worry. If you need me, just tell Mrs Gillan here or one of the other teachers, okay?"

Malachi nodded; though he knew better than to disturb his father at work.

He only moved when his dad's hands turned him and urged him in the direction of the other children, most of whom had lost interest in him now and were talking energetically amongst themselves. A paper aeroplane flew across the room and one of the teachers shouted, making him jump.

He quickly sat down at one of the free desks.

"Hi."

Malachi looked sharply at the boy who had spoken to him; his movement so quick that the other boy jumped slightly and then smiled; it was the same boy who he had seen at the door: "I'm Harry."

He forced a smile; "I'm Malachi." And then he didn't know what to say. He looked away, feeling himself reddening beneath Harry's curious gaze.

"How old are you?"

"Five."

"I'm six."

He was silent.

"Was that your dad?"

"Uh huh."

"He looks like my uncle. So do you."

"Who's your uncle?"

"Sirius."

Malachi shrugged apologetically, feeling as if he was disappointing him; "I don't know him."

"Oh."

They were quiet again. He fiddled with the book in front of him; was he supposed to be reading it? He glanced up at the teachers, who were gathered together at the front of the room. Miss Quinn would always tell him what he was supposed to do during her lessons.

"Do you like chocolate frogs?" Harry asked him.

Malachi eyed the sweet the other boy was holding out to him; he bit his lip, "Uh huh."

Harry smiled and shook the hand that was holding out the sweet to him. Malachi smiled and took it from his eagerly; "Thanks."

"No; thank _you_ , Mr Black." The sweet was promptly plucked from his hand by a teacher they hadn't noticed walking by; "There's no eating in the classroom; we wait until break time."

Malachi glared at her back as she retreated and Harry laughed. He looked at the laughing boy with a frown;

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that you _really_ looked like my Uncle Sirius when you did that."

"Does he get mad a lot?"

"Not with me. He takes me flying."

Malachi's eyes widened; "Flying? Really? On a broom?"

"Uh huh. Haven't you ever been? Doesn't your dad take you?"

"No. My dad's really busy."

"Oh. My dad doesn't do anything with me, either."

"It's not my dad's fault, though," Malachi said, suddenly having the urge to defend his father, and glancing around the room as if he might have heard.

Harry shrugged; "Not mine's either, I guess."

Harry looked sad. Sad like Malachi felt. And he felt himself relax a bit this time, as he turned his attention to his book.

"Alright, everyone," one of the teachers spoke up loudly, as the group of teachers dispersed; "Let's get started, shall we?"

"I have more chocolate frogs," Harry whispered, leaning towards him; "I'll give you some at break."

Malachi smiled shyly; "Thanks," he whispered back.

* * *

Malachi's eyes are blue.

Like Evelyn's. Like the pictures of the perfect blue oceans in holiday brochures; blue, blue, blue. And they were haunting; every time he looked into his son's eyes he found himself thinking of her. It was like she was still watching him, through their son's eyes, even though she was gone. She was watching; judging. And Malachi had even had that same disappointed look in his eyes, the exact same as his mother's, when he had told him about the Phoenix Centre.

But the boy never voiced any complaints. It was all in the eyes. Almost as if it wasn't him at all that disapproved; but his mother. Evelyn making her own opinion of the move known.

Malachi had moved into Newton's with him the previous week. Since then he had seen a side to his son that he had rarely, if ever, seen. Almost brooding, which, of course, was expected considering the circumstances. But it was painfully familiar, the expression on his face. The angry, hate the world, look. A look he had seen often as a child.

His son looked exactly like his brother.

He didn't know how hadn't noticed it before. Maybe he was simply imagining it, because Severus had just told him that Sirius had run off with the intention of hunting Pettigrew, and he was on his mind.

But he knew better.

Sometimes when Malachi was deep in thought, he would turn and look directly at him; and it would be like Sirius watching him, disapproving of him; Evelyn's eyes haunting him.

And he couldn't help but wonder if Malachi was sent to him as a complete embodiment of every mistake he had ever made in his life. Some sort of cruel joke sent by the fates.

His son; a reminder of all the sons and fathers he had taken during the war; a reminder of his own failure as a father; the physical image of his brother who had got away; and the eyes of the lover whom he had gotten killed.

These thoughts were only confirmed that evening, as he lay next to his son in bed, attempting to read him to sleep with a book the boy had picked.

"I met a boy today; his name was Harry."

"Harry Potter?"

"I dunno. He didn't tell me his last name. But he said I looked like his uncle."

_Harry Potter for sure._

"Ah. I see."

"His name's Sirius," Malachi turned his head so he was looking up, straight at him; "Do you know him?"

Regulus held his son's look for a moment; blue, blue eyes daring him to lie. He cleared his throat and closed the book, letting it rest forgotten on the bed sheets. Malachi pushed himself into a sitting position.

Regulus nodded the affirmative, leaning back; "Yes. Sirius is my brother."

Malachi straightened in surprise; "I didn't know you had a brother."

"We don't see very much of each other. We aren't close."

"Not friends?"

"Nope. Not friends."

"How come?"

"It's complicated."

"Why?" Malachi frowned, with the bewilderment of a child who couldn't possibly begin to comprehend how a relationship with someone could be complicated; simply like or dislike.

"Well, we just don't speak."

"You don't like each other?"

"I suppose we don't." Though that wasn't entirely true. He wasn't sure of Sirius' feelings towards him; but his feelings towards his brother were a bit more complex than that; disappointment, abandonment, resentment, jealousy. There were a number of unpleasant emotions he felt towards his brother; though he'd never really considered dislike, or hate, to be one of them.

"Is it okay for me to speak to Harry? Even though you don't like his uncle?"

"Yeah, sure. Of course it is. You can be friends with whoever you want."

"Did Severus know him?"

"Who? Sirius?"

Malachi nodded.

"Uh...a little."

"Did he not like him either? I don't want him to be mad."

"Severus won't be mad. He won't care," Regulus said, carefully avoiding the first question.

Malachi smiled, pulling out a collection of chocolate frog cards; "Good. Harry gave me five chocolate frogs today –"

" _Five?_ Don't the teachers watch what you're eating?"

Malachi shrugged; "There's so many of us. I don't think there's enough teachers."

"That right?" _I'll have to do something about that._

Malachi held the cards out to him with a smile; "He's nice to me."

Regulus took the cards, glancing through them with faux-interest, "That's good. I'm glad you're making friends."

"Will Draco start coming to the centre too?"

Regulus handed the cards back to him, ruffling his hair; "No. Draco gets taught at home."

"Like I used to."

"Yep."

"Wait. If Harry's uncle is your brother...does that mean he's _my_ uncle too?" Malachi was frowning, contemplatively, making the connection.

Regulus hesitated, "Uh...yeah. Yeah, that's right."

"Has he ever seen me? When I was little?"

"No," Regulus shook his head, stroking his son's hair; "We had stopped speaking before that."

"Can I see a picture of him? So I can see if I really look like him?"

"I don't have one."

At his son's disappointed look he found himself adding; "Your Auntie Andie does. You can ask her the next time we see her."

"What about Auntie Cissy? I see her more."

"I...don't think she has a picture of him either."

"Oh," Malachi frowned, glancing down at the cards in his hands.

"Now," Regulus changed the subject and lifted the book from his lap, "Do you want to hear the rest of the story?"

Malachi smiled and nodded.

"Well, get tucked back in," he said, grabbing the covers and shaking them.

"Stop! It's cold!" Malachi laughed in protest, grabbing the edge of the covers and trying to pull them down.

Regulus chuckled, waving his wand to light the fire at the other side of the room.

* * *

Severus had noticed it that morning.

It was so faint he wondered if he was seeing things. If his mind was just playing tricks on him. There was no pain; no feeling to indicate that it was there when he had run a finger over it. But it was there; the outline of it.

"Trust Dumbledore to take someone else good intentions and turn it into a question of the ethics of warfare."

Regulus couldn't believe the information Severus had just given him; that Dumbledore wished to use the findings of Project Orion in order to invade the mind of a six year old. He wondered if he had even noticed yet; if he had noticed the tell-tale mark of their mistakes.

"True."

"So you're going to go along with it?"

"What choice is there? If I do not, it could lead to the success of the Dark Lord." Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Ends justifying means, huh?"

"Please, spare me your morality lectures, Regulus." Severus made his way to the drink cabinet, pouring himself a drink once he got there. He was becoming agitated. Uneasy. His hand went to his forearm, briefly; he didn't want to bring it up. As if talking about it made it real.

"Then why did you tell me about it in the first place?"

"Because you asked."

Regulus was silent, clearly unable to counter the statement.

Severus glanced in the direction of the hallway; "How did Malachi enjoy his first day?"

"He met Harry Potter."

Severus could see the amusement in Regulus' expression; he ignored it, though was relieved to see a glimpse of the sparkle that hadn't quite managed to meet his friend's eyes over the past couple of weeks; "I see."

"Getting along pretty well. Apparently the little Potter was attracted to him because he looks like my brother."

"Ah. How wonderful. I haven't noticed the resemblance myself."

"Really?"

"Really."

Regulus looked doubtful, though it was the truth. He hadn't really looked upon Sirius Black properly in years and he hadn't ever looked at Malachi and been reminded of the other Black brother; though after this exchange he was beginning to think he might do now.

"Anyway, the whole incident got Malachi asking questions about Sirius. I told him he was my brother and other bits of information. Just a heads up, in case he comes asking you."

"I'm sure I can handle it."

After all, Sirius Black was nothing; an insignificant weed, compared to what else he would soon have to face, if what he had seen was true; if it had not been a trick of the light; his subconscious playing tricks on him.

"I asked about Dumbledore because you seem distracted," Regulus stated, returning to their earlier subject; "What's up with you?"

Severus met his eyes. He held them a moment; long enough to worry the other, long enough for Regulus to look apprehensive.

He swallowed back any hesitation; any foolish thoughts that ignoring the issue would make it go away. Told himself Regulus could handle it; he was going through so much right now, the timing of this was abysmal, but it was not something that could be ignored. Not something that could be swept aside.

This was something that Regulus couldn't pretend wasn't happening.

"Have you looked at your left forearm recently?"

Regulus paled.

And for a moment a deafly silence fell over them.

Regulus hand was shaking as he reached up, clawed at the sleeve of his robe and ripped back the fabric of his shirt, revealing his arm. Severus stepped closer as the two of them glanced down at it.

And there it was.

Faint. But there.

Just like his.

The Dark Mark was returning.


	14. February 1987: A Little Bit Hopeful

"You sent him away, didn't you?"

It had been six weeks since Sirius had left and since then there hadn't been even a whisper of his whereabouts. Harry had been growing increasingly anxious as time went on and by now even Lily was becoming apprehensive; was there a reason he hadn't contacted them? Was it possible that, for some reason, he _couldn't_ contact them? Perhaps he was hurt or worse...

"No, Harry. I told you, your Uncle Sirius –"

"You said he was away helping his family! You were lying! There's nothing wrong with his family, Malachi told me!"

"Sweetheart, Malachi is a little boy," Lily explained, her lie too far gone now for her to take it back; "He wouldn't know if there were problems with the Blacks."

"We're not babies, Mum! You're lying to me!"

Lily released an agitated sigh at the accusation. The accusation that was entirely true. But what could she possibly say to him now? That she had no idea where Sirius was? That he may have been injured? May be missing? May never come back?

"Your Uncle Sirius will come back when he can."

Harry was glaring at her, a darkness in his eyes she had never seen and then he swung an arm sending his breakfast bowl across the room. She jumped as the bowl smashed against the counter, sending milk, cereal and ceramic flying in all directions.

"Harry!"

He put his hands on the table, shoving his chair back, and made to storm from the room. Lily was on her feet instantly, a hand reaching out to grab him by the arm, stopping his escape.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

She was in his face now and he was glaring back at her with a defiance that James had never looked at her with but it was still familiar and it took her a second the recognise that it was the same look Sirius would often give when they were arguing.

"You sent him away! I _know_ you did! I heard you, remember! You told him you didn't want to live here anymore and that you wanted to take me away. And now he's had to go! It's not fair! I told you I don't want my dad. I want Uncle Sirius! And now he's gone, just like him! This is your fault!"

"Don't you forget who you're talking to, young man," Lily snapped, feeling herself tense up at the disrespect by which he was addressing her and James', "That is your father you're talking about."

"I don't care! I don't _care_ about him! You made Uncle Sirius go away because all you ever think about is my dad! And now he's angry! He's angry because that's all you care about! You don't care about anything else!"

"Stop it, Harry. That's not true!"

"It is! It is true!" He shoved against her but she kept a tight hold of his arm, "I don't wanna live with you! I wanna live with Uncle Sirius!"

"Well, Harry, that's just too bad," she stated, firmly, at a loss at how to reason with him, having never experienced anything like this from him before, "I'm your mother. You stay with me."

"You're such a bad mum!" he declared, making her heart drop; "You don't even love me!"

"Harry," she whispered, shaking her head, the hand holding him relaxing and the other coming up to take his other arm; "Harry, that's not true. I love you so much. _So_ much. You're my whole life, Harry."

Tears were slipping down his cheeks but he was still regarding her with the same defiance as he vehemently shook his head.

"No! My _dad's_ your whole life. I've heard what Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus say. That all you want is to get him back. That everything you do is all about him."

"For you, Sweetheart. For us –"

"But I don't want him back! I told you already! You never listen to me!"

Lily was rendered speechless at her son's outburst. Could only stare into the eyes of the hurt, broken boy before her, as a feeling of nausea built up within her and her heart pounded in her chest. She wondered how on Earth she had managed to let things get this far. So far, without her even realising it.

"Harry –"

"I hate you," he whispered, staring straight at her.

And there was such sincerity in his eyes as he said it that it took her breath away and her hands fell from his arms. She felt her own tears building up and Harry's hard expression dropped. He took a step towards her.

"Mum –"

"Go to your room."

"I've got school –"

"I said go to your room.”

He stared at her a moment longer, before his expression finally crumbled and he turned and ran from the room, as she sank to the couch.

* * *

"I made my mum cry," Harry said, quietly.

His stomach felt funny – tight – and he felt sick remembering it.

Malachi looked at him but didn't say anything.

"I told her I hated her," Harry explained further, leaning back on the beanbag they were sitting on.

Malachi looked thoughtful, before he stated, "That wasn’t a very nice thing to say."

"I do sometimes, though," Harry revealed, feeling guiltier as he said it, "She doesn't understand. She's not like Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus. She doesn't listen like they do. She just always thinks she's right."

"She's your mum. Mums _are_ always right."

"No they're not."

"They're more right than dads are," Malachi said, quietly, and Harry remembered that Malachi's dad was a really bad dad too, even though Malachi would never admit it.

"You shouldn't have told her you hated her. Even if you think you do."

"Why?"

"Because she loves you. And you love her too."

"How do you know?"

"Because sometimes I thought I hated my mum too. And now she's dead."

Harry felt a sudden pang of panic, wondering if in some way him saying he hated his mum meant that something would happen to her now; now she might die. He suddenly felt even more like he wanted to be sick.

"I don't want my mum to die," he whispered.

"See. That's how you know."

Harry looked at Malachi with a frown.

"How? There's loads of people I don't want to die. I don't want Mrs Gillan to die," he stated, glancing in the direction of the first teacher he saw.

"Yeah, but you get upset when you think about your mum dying."

"I don't wanna talk about my mum dying. Stop saying that."

"Sorry." Malachi shrugged.

Even though they had stopped talking about it, he couldn't stop thinking about it. What if his mum did die? Malachi's mum died. And she was younger than his mum. And Malachi loved her. He didn't want to go and live with his dad. Harry felt his breath coming quicker, a lump in his throat, as he panicked at the idea. He would miss his mum so much if she died.

"Don't cry, Harry," Malachi said, quietly.

Harry quickly rubbed his arm against his eyes, wiping the tears away.

"I'm not."

He felt embarrassed now; embarrassed and sad.

He looked over at Malachi, who was looking through the book in his lap.

Harry watched him for a minute.

Malachi's mum had _died_.

It was so horrible to think about. And Malachi had been really sad when he first told him about it but he talked about his mum now without getting as upset as before.

"Do you miss your mum?"

Malachi nodded, not looking up from the book.

"I'm sorry she died."

"Why? You didn't know her."

Harry was quiet a moment, not really sure why he was sorry, before he shrugged; "I'm sorry that it made you sad."

Malachi looked at him, his eyes were sad, but he still smiled.

He smiled a lot, Harry noticed.

Even when he wasn't really happy.

"Thanks."

"Why did you say you hated her?" Malachi went on.

"She won't tell me where Uncle Sirius is."

"My dad doesn't know either."

Harry looked at him, eagerly, "Did you ask him?"

Malachi nodded, "Yeah. But he doesn't know. He said he never knows anything about him, because they don't talk."

"That's funny. If I had a brother, I'd want to talk to him all the time."

"Me too. Or a sister."

"Girls are gross," Harry declared.

Malachi frowned, looking at him curiously, as if Harry knew everything.

"Why? What do they do?"

Harry shrugged, "Nothing. I just heard the older boys say it."

"I heard older boys say they're good."

"Good? Good at what?"

Malachi shrugged, "I dunno. But aren't men happier when they're married?"

Harry thought on that a minute before he frowned, "I don't know anyone that's married. Except Mr Weasley."

"Who's that?"

"Ron's dad."

"My Uncle Lucius is married. He's scary."

"How?"

"Just is."

"Oh. Well, I know that most kids' parents are married. They're supposed to be. If my mum was married she'd be happier. And she wouldn't have to work anymore."

"Isn't your mum married to your dad?" Malachi asked, curiously.

"No. My dad's gone."

He'd told him this before.

"But _before_ ," Malachi elaborated and Harry shrugged.

"I guess. But I don't remember it. I was a baby."

"My mum didn't get married."

"Not to your dad?"

Malachi shook his head; "No. My dad was too busy."

"How can you be too busy? It's only one day."

"What is?"

"Getting married."

"No. It's forever," Malachi said, insistently, with a frown; this time deciding that he was right.

"I meant the wedding part, not being married."

"Oh."

"I want my mum to marry Uncle Sirius," Harry stated.

Malachi snickered and Harry gave him an affronted frown.

"What?"

"It's not up to you. Besides, I don't think your mum likes him."

"What? How would you know?"

"Because you keep telling her that you love him more than her. _And_ you keep tell telling her you love him more than your dad and she still loves your dad."

"It's stupid!" Harry declared, ceasing the opportunity to comment on the last statement; "My dad is dead."

"How come your dad being dead doesn't make you sad?"

Malachi lay back on the beanbag, pushing his book aside.

Harry shrugged, "Dunno. I don't remember him."

"Well, your mum does."

Harry shook his head, remembering that she had kissed Remus a little while ago; "Even if she doesn't like Uncle Sirius it doesn't matter. She could marry Uncle Remus instead."

"Maybe your mum can marry my dad and make him happier," Malachi joked.

But Harry didn't think it was funny.

It was brilliant!

If his mum married Malachi's dad then they would be _brothers_ and then his mum _really_ wouldn't have to work because Malachi's dad was rich and he worked all the time.

But that wouldn't make Malachi happy, probably. Because he wanted his dad home more, the same as he wanted his mum home more.

"It would be good if they did," Harry said, instead, "Then we could be brothers."

Malachi looked at him, still joking around when he said, "We could pretend to be brothers. We're already like cousins now."

"Yeah!" Harry grinned, remembering how his Uncle Sirius connected them.

And then he remembered what Malachi said. That Uncle Sirius and Malachi's dad didn't like each other. So maybe they wouldn't be allowed to see him if that happened. And he didn't want him to have to go away. If he ever came back.

"Yeah. We could just pretend," Harry agreed, instead, smiling at him.

Malachi smiled back at him and, this time, Harry could tell it was real.

* * *

Severus almost didn't notice Lily's agitation, his own mind elsewhere as they ate.

The Dark Mark had returned.

It seemed as if it was becoming darker, more prominent, with each passing day.

Time was running out.

And Dumbledore and Regulus weren't getting any further in their mission to find the horcruxes. He had offered his help, however they had both quickly rebuffed his offer, Dumbledore particularly furious that Regulus had informed Severus what they had been working on.

Instead, Dumbledore had insisted that Severus continue to focus on Project Orion. Asserting that, with their quest to find the missing horcruxes failing, they needed to be prepared for 'all eventualities'.

In order words, they needed to be prepared for the immortal Dark Lord's return.

Even Lily's presence was doing little to quell his anxiety.

It was happening.

It was really happening.

And he was terrified.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked, regarding him with concern.

He nodded; "Yes. I am fine."

"You haven't eaten anything."

Severus glanced down at his plate, which remained full but looked a mess, as he had been shoving the food around disinterestedly with his fork since it had arrived.

He cleared his throat, lowering his cutlery, "Simply not hungry."

He wasn't really.

He was rarely hungry at lunch time.

But Lily was no longer available to meet in the evenings due to having to collect her son from the Phoenix Centre after work and he hadn't wanted to turn down the opportunity to keep their regular meetings.

So, he had willingly agreed when Lily had suggested they begin meeting at lunch time rather than for dinner.

He glanced at Lily's plate, which also looked untouched, save for a few bites of meat. Going by her logic, he assumed something was on her mind also; "Are _you_ alright?"

Lily raised her eyes to his and he could clearly see that she wasn't; that something was weighing heavily on her mind. But she glanced back down and shook her head; "Yes. I'm fine, too."

What pitiful liars we both are, he thought to himself, lifting his water for a drink.

He supposed it had something to do with Black.

It had not gone unnoticed by Severus, that Malachi had been pestering Regulus on behalf of Harry Potter all week regarding the man.

"No word from Black, I presume?"

Lily sighed, looking relieved he had brought it up; "No. Nothing. Harry is becoming very frustrated."

"Yes. I have heard."

She looked at him sharply; "What do you mean?"

"You son has been attempting to extract information from Regulus regarding him. Obviously he knows nothing about Black's whereabouts."

"Oh," Lily frowned, looking downwards; "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Severus frowned, "What have you got to be sorry for?"

Lily shook her head, closing her eyes; "I don't know. Lots of things, I suppose."

Severus suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable and made an uneasy glance around the room, wondering if anyone was watching them. The interest in the two of them had faded somewhat now but there were always gossips lurking within these walls. And the last thing he wanted was to instigate a conversation that would result in bringing her to tears, for the whole company to see.

"Regulus' son is growing quite fond of your son. It is only natural they should discuss what is troubling them. And Malachi is becoming increasingly interested in his uncle due to Harry's tales regarding him. It is nothing for you to be concerned or sorry for."

"I lied to him," Lily stated, out of the blue, looking up at him; "I told him that Sirius was helping family. Obviously I had not expected Harry to become friends with someone who is part of that family. He knows, now. But I don't know what to say, now the lie has gone on for so long."

"It was a very small lie," Severus offered; he had had his own experience of lies and this one was miniscule. Insignificant; a pathetic excuse for a lie. But it appeared to mean a great deal to Lily.

"It's Harry's reaction to it that's what's worrying."

"I see." Children did have the tendency to overdramatise the smallest of things.

"Sometimes I look at him and –" She shook her head; "I swear it's Sirius looking back at me, not –" she glanced at him, looking a bit startled, before she quickly went on; "Sometimes it's like he's more Sirius' son than mine."

"Perhaps you should tell him to back off."

Lily shrugged and he wondered if she already had.

"And I hadn't expected him to be gone so long, either," she went on, "I mean, six weeks? It's a long time, right? Without word? He's never been away so long –" She was rambling on about a subject Severus couldn't care less about but he forced himself to maintain his interest, or at least the appearance of it. She had clearly been holding in these feelings for a while. "- I mean, he knows how upset Harry would be. He wouldn't leave it this long...what if he's hurt? That's what I keep thinking – what if he _can't_ get in touch...what if something terrible has happened to him?"

_Merlin forbid._

"I'm sure he is fine."

Lily looked at him sharply, as if she was just realising who it was she was talking to, and then pressed her lips together, looking embarrassed and disappointed, before she glanced back down at her food and lifted a piece to her lips. Severus thought she might gag on the item, as she forced it down her throat and reached for her glass of water.

"I can...try and find out more information for you, if you would like?"

Lily looked at him over her glass.

"I have...some connections. People who are also keen to find Peter Pettigrew. I can find out if they have come across Black in their ventures." He didn't know why he was offering it. He was certain Lucius would be suspicious if he started asking about the search for him.

Lily was regarding him with a mixture of curiosity, confusion and gratitude; "Oh...um. Yes. Thank you." She frowned, before going on; "What connections?"

"No one you know," he lied; "Business associates."

"Oh."

She didn't believe him, he could tell. But that was of no consequence, really. He was hardly going to start confessing his past sins in the middle of the Foundation bistro, after all. And, really, he didn't feel that it was necessary at all. Though his mind challenged that conclusion; the Dark Mark was a frequent reminder that time was running out, that soon he would be consorting with Death Eaters once again, if Dumbledore's intentions didn't change, and shouldn't she know what he would have to do? What if she found out some other way?

It would be the end of their friendship for good this time.

But he still held back. He wasn't ready for it yet.

What's to say that the simple confession of it wouldn't break them?

"Something on your mind?" Lily once again enquired as to his troubles.

Yes, Lily. Something is on my mind. The Dark Mark is returning; which means that soon the Dark Lord will return also. Which means that Neville Longbottom, the child I have sworn to protect, will soon be in grave danger. I have a project to rush through before all this happens; I have to freshen up on my occlumency for my future spying missions. And Regulus is currently off preparing for a potential suicide mission with Dumbledore. As well as struggling to live up to his role as a father.

He settled on that one; "Regulus. I am concerned for him."

The Black Brothers; the bane of our existence.

"Oh. Is...is he still not coping?"

"Well, he refused to grieve properly following Evelyn's death. And he is hardly the ideal example of a good father."

Lily looked stricken at the statement and he frowned, wondering how she could possibly find that offensive; "I am concerned that he may do the boy harm if he is unable to fully embrace his role in his life."

"Perhaps you should speak with him."

"Believe me, I have tried."

"Maybe he's doing the best he can," Lily offered.

Severus glanced at her; wondering at the strange fragility of her tone; "I...yes, of course. Obviously I don't think he is being incompetent on purpose. Like I told him; the only way he can improve is through experience."

"Perhaps he feels it's too late."

"It is never too late," Severus countered, firmly. Lily held his look a moment before she turned her attention back to her plate.

"How is Malachi coping?"

"I believe he is enjoying his time at the Phoenix Centre. It is fortunate he and your son have become friends; he had very little social interactions prior to his mother's death."

Lily smiled; "I'm glad Harry is helping him."

Severus nodded; "As am I. The boy is exactly like his father; he does not...allow himself to grieve."

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment, bringing her eyes to his. Then she said; "You should try to speak with Regulus again. If what you're saying is true; in a few years he could wake up and realise he's lost his son."

Severus held her look; her expression, the sadness in her eyes, was telling. He nodded; "I shall. Though it is worth remembering that what is lost can often be found."

A slow smile spread across her lips and she raised an eyebrow; "Poetic."

"Well, I try." Severus stated sardonically, though he reddened and looked down at his plate. He caught a glimpse of her smile widening and felt a smile tug at his own lips, pleased that he had managed to give her a moment of genuine happiness when she was obviously upset. Upset about something more than what she had confessed; he assumed it had something to do with her son.

"Severus?"

"Yes?" He lifted his head to look at her.

"Did I tell you I'm really glad we're friends?"

Severus pretended to think; "Hmm. Hogwarts Express, I think."

A small chuckled escaped her; "Well." Then she shrugged, still smiling.

He was fusing over his plate, not responding, though could feel her watching him, smilingly. He lifted his eyes from the table, glancing at her without lifting his head, as the time between them stretched. He smiled slightly; "A mutual sentiment, Lily."

She held his look, her smile and eyes filled with obvious affection, and he felt himself warm under her eyes. It was happening more; the boyish warmth when their eyes met, the blushing, the butterflies. It was embarrassing; childish; mortifying.

And wonderful.

And, at least for now, he was content to imagine how things could be. Something brighter to take his mind of the darkness that was looming. Even if the idea was foolish and impossible; just the idea was enough to make him a little bit happier.

A little bit hopeful.

* * *

"Please; it's just for a few days."

Severus turned his darkest scowl on Regulus.

"Regulus, in case you have forgotten I am incredibly busy at the present time; and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future," he almost growled, before adding; "And even if I _weren't,_ what would _possibly_ give you the idea that I would want, or be willing, to take responsibility for your child for such an extended period of time?"

"It's only two or three days," Regulus weakly protested again, "And it's not like I can ask Cissy or Andie; they'd wonder why I was leaving."

"Find someone else."

"Like who?" Regulus snapped; "Who else could take him? Your Lily Potter perhaps?"

" _My_ Lily Potter?" Severus repeated, giving him a cold glare, "You certainly are doing well, attempting to convince me."

"Severus, please; he likes you –"

Severus scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest.

"He respects you. He's not going to do anything to upset you. I just don't want to ship him off to strangers. He's getting into a routine here. And it's not like he'd be any trouble. You won't have to do anything. Just drop him off at the Phoenix and then pick him up on your way home in the evening. Have Kreacher feed him and ensure he's in bed by nine."

"Regulus, I sometimes do not return home until well after nine."

"Well...well, I suppose the occasional slip is fine."

Severus gave an aggravated shake of the head, not at all impressed by this turn of events.

"Is it really necessary that you escort Dumbledore on this mission? Can you not explain to him that you have other, more pressing responsibilities?"

"More pressing that the return of the Dark Lord?" Regulus countered, raising an eyebrow.

Severus sighed, uncrossing his arms, and looking around the room, crossly; "Have you explained to your son that you are leaving?"

"I'm not _'leaving'',_ it's a work assignment. And no; not yet. I wanted to ensure you were okay with the plan."

"'Okay' is not the word I would use," Severus stated, sitting back down in his chair and lifting his book from the side table; "As long as he is not upset, I will consent. I do not want to have to deal with a child's hysterics because you have abandoned him once again."

"Oh, knock it off, Severus! You know I can't refuse to do this. This is what we've been working towards for five years. I can't just walk away now because -" He cut off, with a frown, unable to find the words to describe the situation. He sighed, "Look, will you do it? I'll owe you."

"That you will," Severus returned, quietly, looking at him over his book; "Do not expect this to be a regular occurrence."

"Thanks," Regulus returned, though didn't sound all that thankful; more annoyed and relieved. And he gave him a nod, before striding for the room, clearly intending to tell his son the news.

* * *

Lily stared at the ceiling as she lay in bed that night, sleep not coming easy.

It rarely did these days.

But Harry's words from earlier that morning continued to haunt her. 

Just breathing felt difficult, almost impossible, thinking on his words.

Her son was hurting. Worse than that; he was _damaged_. Did he truly believe the things he had said? That he thought she didn't love him was devastating.

_Dad's your whole life._

She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the accusation.

Was it true?

It was what Sirius and Remus had accused her of for years; the bottom line to almost every argument and, if it wasn't, another argument would always bring it up in some way or another. It was always there. That fact. That accusation. And she had ignored it.

But coming from her son's lips meant so much more.

It meant her six year old son had noticed it.

That he was getting hurt.

And she was losing him. Losing him, if she hadn't already.

Where had she been these past five years?

Five years, during which time he had turned to Sirius and Remus for the comfort that she should have been providing. Instead, she had been focusing on what they had lost; what _she_ had lost. At the expense of everything she had left.

She glanced over as her bedroom door clicked open, quickly reaching for her wand.

A second later, Harry's head popped around the side of the door. He looked wide awake, despite having been sent to bed hours ago.

"You're awake," he whispered.

Lily flicked her wand, making the dim light in the room brighter; "Harry?" She pushed herself into a sitting position, "Are you okay?"

Harry stepped into the room, swinging the door shut behind him, and hurried over, jumping up onto the free side of the bed.

He shimmied towards her, before wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her tight. She sighed, wrapping her arms around him, and pressed a kiss to his head; her throat tightening as the rest of the tension left her.

"I love you, Mum."

She smiled against his hair, before pulling back, lifting his head to face her with a finger to his chin; "I love you too, Sweetheart. Very much."

He nodded, "I know you do. Mum...I'm sorry. I was really bad."

"Shh," she whispered, pulling him in for another hug; "I'm sorry too."

She stroked his hair, lovingly, before she released him and he pulled back. He grabbed the edge of her duvet and slid his legs beneath the covers, snuggling in next to her.

"Harry?"

He looked up at her.

"Harry, I...there's something I want to explain to you."

"Is it about Uncle Sirius?"

Lily hesitated; she had intended to talk about James. But she supposed she would have to address the issue of Sirius sooner or later. She sighed, brushing his hair back from his forehead; "Harry...the truth is, I don't know where your Uncle Sirius is right now."

Harry was looking at her, contemplatively, before he swallowed, looking down; "Why did he go away?"

Lily paused for a moment, wondering whether or not to tell him. But when Harry looked up at her, expectantly, she made the firm decision not to lie to him. At least this once.

"Something happened, it was a long time ago now. But one of your Uncle Sirius' friends, one of our friends...he did something really bad. Something that made your dad get hurt."

Harry turned more fully, looking at her with curious eyes.

"His name was Peter. He went to prison for what he did; but he got out. You Uncle Sirius is trying to find him to send him back."

Harry tilted his head to the side, thinking on the information for a moment. He looked at her, curiously; "How come you didn't go with him?"

Lily frowned; "Why would I go with him?"

"Because he hurt my dad."

Lily swallowed, suddenly feeling uneasy at the connection Harry had made. His accusation from earlier that morning, about her always being concerned with James, came back to her; haunted her. She shook her head, pushing the thought away; "Because some things are more important."

"Like what?"

"Like you."

Harry smiled brightly at the statement. Then he frowned.

"But...Uncle Sirius thinks it's important."

"Yes. Your Uncle Sirius was very hurt by what he did."

"Like how Uncle Remus was upset because of what Uncle Sirius did to him?"

Lily looked at him in surprise; "What do you mean?"

"Uncle Sirius believed all the bad things about Uncle Remus. People were saying horrible things, and Uncle Sirius believed them, even though he was his friend."

"Who told you that?"

"Uncle Sirius."

Lily raised both eyebrows; "Really?" She was surprised. And also impressed; Sirius was obviously acknowledging the effect that their decision had had on Remus. "Well, yes. I mean...well, what Peter did was far worse than what your Uncle Sirius did to Uncle Remus. People got hurt because of Peter."

"Like my dad?"

"Like your dad," she nodded; "All of us. What he did hurt everyone."

"Oh." Harry glanced down, looking thoughtful for a moment, before he looked up at her and shrugged; "I hope he finds him then."

Lily didn't share the sentiment; but decided he was too young for her to have to explain why it wouldn't be in anyone's best interests if Sirius did manage to encounter Peter. Instead, she wrapped an arm around him; "Harry. Do you want to talk about what you said earlier?"

Harry paled slightly, glancing down with obvious shame; "I dunno."

"It's okay, Sweetheart. You can tell me anything you want."

Harry looked at her, hesitantly.

She smiled, reassuringly; "Really. Anything you want; I'll listen."

"You won't get upset?"

"I won't," she promised, then added; "I'll try."

Harry swallowed, his eyes searching her face for a moment. Then he drew in a breath; "What...what do you want me to talk about?"

"How about the things you were saying about your dad? We never really had a proper talk after we took you to see him."

"Yeah we did."

"Well...yes, but we didn't talk about _your_ feelings about it."

Harry nodded slightly, looking down, as if agreeing with what she was saying. But then he looked up at her and shook his head; "I don't wanna talk about that...I...I wanted to talk about you."

Lily swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous, and nodded; "Okay."

"But you have to not say anything until I've finished. You have to just listen. Okay?"

She smiled at the commanding tone he had adopted and nodded; "Okay."

Harry drew in a deep breath and then turned to face her, crossing his legs in front of him. She turned over onto her side, pushing herself up a bit more and giving him another reassuring smile, trying to make him feel comfortable, safe enough to reveal his feelings.

He took another deep breath, before speaking in a strange tone, one he'd obviously picked up from the television, or perhaps a Healer, or even a politician; "Well, Mum, I think you need help."

She felt her lips twitched and forced herself to hold back the amused smile. He was quiet, despite making her take a vow of silence, as if awaiting a response, so she said; "Really? Go on."

"Well...everyone knows that my dad isn't going to come back. But you think he is; even though everyone keeps telling you he's not. And it's making you sad; really sad."

"Harry –"

"You said you'd listen," Harry interrupted her with a frown. She raised a conceding hand and pretended to zip her lips.

"It's making you really sad," he repeated; "And when you're sad, it makes me sad too."

She swallowed, but kept her silence as promised, and instead reached over to squeeze his arm. He smiled at the action; "I think you'd be really happy if you got married again."

Lily bit her lip, holding back a protest.

"Love is really important. We've been learning that at school for Valentine's Day. _You_ need _love_!"

Lily pressed her fingers to her lips, desperately holding back a chuckle at the declaration.

"And Uncle Sirius, or Uncle Remus, is the one to give it to you!"

"Harry," Lily interrupted, unable to help herself; "Please. Let's keep this to talking about your feelings."

Harry frowned; "These are my feelings. You need a husband."

Goodness, what century's values had Sirius and Remus been instilling in her son's mind while she hadn't been looking; "Sweetheart, not all women need husbands."

" _Everyone_ needs love," he stated firmly, and she remembered seeing as much written across the chalk board in the Phoenix Centre that evening when she had collected him. She dipped her head, smiling widely at the direction the conversation had taken. She pushed herself up, so she was sitting with her back against the headboard, and wrapped her arm around him.

"Are these your only feelings? You said you've been feeling sad."

Harry nodded; "Uh huh. I hear you crying sometimes. It makes me want to cry too."

Lily squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a wave of shame wash over her; "I'm sorry you heard that, Sweetheart."

"It's okay. Sometimes I cry when I'm sad. When you stop being sad, you'll stop."

She rubbed his arm.

"You work so much too."

Lily leaned to the side to see his face. He raised uncertain eyes to hers; "I miss you when you're not home."

"I miss you too, Sweetheart. It's normal to miss someone; it's okay."

"I hate missing people," he stated, "I miss you. And I miss Uncle Sirius. And I haven't seen Uncle Remus for ages since I started at the Phoenix Centre –"

"Would you like me to try and arrange a day with Uncle Remus?"

"Uh huh," he nodded eagerly, but the suggestion didn't hold his attention long; "Mum, do you miss my dad all the time?"

Lily nodded.

"Malachi misses his mum. She died."

"I know, I heard."

"It's okay to miss people when they're gone. But it's okay to be happy sometimes, you know. You can't be sad all the time."

"Harry, I am happy," she assured him, "I have you. How could I not be happy?"

Harry rolled his eyes, dramatically; "Then why aren't you? You can't just say 'I'm happy' and then magically be happy, you have to _be_ happy."

Lily smiled, tempted to reminded him that you cannot just command happiness, the same as you couldn't command love; but that would only counteract her own assertions.

"Mum...you're making me really sad," he whispered.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm sorry," she choked out, any amusement she was finding in the situation gone. She pulled him into a tight hug, pressing her lips to his temple; "I don't want you to be sad either."

"I know you don't. But I can't help it sometimes," he explained.

She drew back, looking at him lovingly; "I know. Sometimes people can't help being sad; I get sad sometimes, just like you said. But I'm not always sad. You're happy sometimes too, aren't you?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that's the same for me. Sometimes I get sad; but, most of the time, I'm happy. Very happy."

"Not _very_ happy," Harry pursed his lips together, looking at her doubtfully.

She grinned; "I get _very_ happy when I see you happy; that cheeky smile of yours. And I get very happy when I see you baking in the kitchen or when I see you flying and when you come home from school and tell me all the new things you've learned."

"Don't you have any men that make you happy?"

"What?" Lily blinked, stunned at the question.

Harry shrugged, innocently, not seeing anything wrong or inappropriate about the question; "Well, everything you said was only about me."

"I'm...happy when I see your Uncles, yes. But –"

"No," Harry interrupted her, "I mean _men_. There's tons where you work."

"Harry," Lily blushed, both amused and flustered by the implication; "There are no...there are _no_ men."

As if her own subconscious was laughing at her, Severus came to mind, and she felt herself grow hot and even more flustered, as if the time she had spent with him was some secret that must be concealed from her son. She frowned at her thoughts, pushing away the image of her old friend.

"There's tons!" he repeated.

"Yes, I know. The answer to your question is no. Not the way you mean, anyway. Your father –"

"No, no, no!" Harry threw up his hands in another dramatic demonstration, shaking his head; "See! You keep thinking about my dad _all the time_!"

Lily sighed; "Harry, I think I know where you're going with this. And, I'm sorry, but...but no, there is no other man. No potential husbands in the wings," she added, holding back a smirk.

Harry sighed; "What about Malachi's dad?"

Lily couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. And Harry straightened, affronted; "What? You know him, don't you?"

"Harry," she sighed, fighting her amusement, "I've told you before; you can't just pick from a line up and decide that that person will be your husband. It takes time; it takes...a lot of work. It's not easy, Harry, falling in love."

Harry looked at her pleadingly; "Please, Mum. You can't keep loving my dad. You'll never be happy again."

Lily took her bottom lip between her teeth, nipping it, as she looked into his desperate eyes. Her six year old son, begging her to let go of his dad.

She gave him another squeeze; "Harry, this morning you said that I don't love you."

"I was lying," Harry admitted, "I know you love me."

She smiled, "Good. Don't ever forget, okay?"

He looked at her, nodding slowly; "Okay." He looked down, then back at her; "So...no husband?"

"No. No husband."

"But...even if there's no other man...you can't keep..." he shrugged, because a child didn't know how to express the statement that someone had to let someone they loved go. But she knew what he meant; what he was trying to say.

She nodded; "I understand Harry. I...I'll try, okay?"

Harry smiled, looking pleased and hopeful; "Really?"

She nodded; "Really."

"I love you, Mum," he told her again and she smiled, returning the sentiment.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" Harry uncrossed his legs and shimmied deeper under the covers until the duvet was at his chin. He looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

She smiled, he hadn't made such a request since he was four; "I suppose so," she slid down beneath the covers; "But no hogging the covers. And keep those kicky feet to yourself as well."

"Only if you don't snore."

"I never snore."

Harry snickered; "I hear you snoring as well sometimes, you know," then did a loud, honking impression and she reached out quickly and tickled his side, eliciting a loud laugh from him as he tried to wiggle out of reach.

Lily lifted her wand from the nightstand, flicking it to turn out the dim light; "Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"Night, Mum."

* * *

Lily remained awake well into the night, long after Harry fell into a deep slumber. She smiled down at her sleeping son; looking peaceful, almost smiling in his sleep, as if physical proof that the conversation had taken all the weight from his shoulders. And he gets to just be a little boy again. Nothing to be distressed, or upset, or worried about.

That wasn't entirely true. He was still distressed about James. And about Sirius.

But, for now and, hopefully, forever, he doesn't have to worry about her anymore. He can strike a depressed, neglectful mother from his list. From now on, Harry was her top priority. First and foremost.

To do that, she had to do as he had asked. She had to stop behaving in a way that was causing the distress, the upset he was going through.

And, though they had talked, she still continued to feel uneasy and ashamed of what she had been putting her son through for the past five years.

She thought he hadn't noticed; that he was too young to understand.

And yet, here he was, with the exact same concerns as Remus and Sirius. All of them telling her the same thing. That they were worried about her; that her actions were concerning them; that they wanted her to move on; they wanted her to let go.

She smiled slightly, remembering Harry's earlier questions.

His insistence on the importance of love and marriage were amusing, but they came from a pure, innocent place that wasn't entirely untrue.

What was anything worth if you didn't have someone to share it with?

What was life worth if there wasn't love; something to live for?

In the end, it was one of the very few things worth living _and_ dying for.

She knew that.

She knew how important it was. She wouldn't have stayed devoted to James for so long if she didn't.

And it was something her son, at six, seemed to be fully aware of as well. She glanced down her him, smiling, amazed at the boy before her.

He deserved so much more than what she had given him.

And she was struck again by the same thoughts she had had at Christmas.

That she could move on.

She could try again.

She was twenty seven, her birthday the previous weekend passing without fuss and barely even acknowledged. She was still young. It wasn't too late to start over.

And it was what Harry wanted.

The thought had been unbearable – even laughable – not too long ago. But it was becoming more and more possible; more and more like something she should be doing. And she could no longer pretend it wasn't affecting her; that it wasn't damaging her. Because, now, it was damaging her son too.

She had to start over.

She had to start living again. Start living for the present, for the future. And stop hoping for things to be as they were in the past. She had to take those memories, hold them close, but start making new ones.

She had promised Harry that she would.

It was a promise she was going to keep. Starting now.

She was going to have to let go.


	15. February 1987: Stranger Danger

7.48am.

They were going to be late!

Severus strode towards Malachi's bedroom, feeling incredibly irritated. The child knew that classes began at 8am. He rapped on the door to his room loudly. No response. He knocked again, the door clicking open with the force of his knock.

He hesitated and then peered into the room, only to be met with the sight of a bleary eyed five year old, bolting up in his bed, looking a perfect mixture of confusion and terror.

"You're still asleep?" Severus stared at the boy in shock. He had put the boy down to bed at 8.30pm, just as Regulus had instructed – earlier even – surely no one could sleep for so long.

"We are going to be late!" he snapped.

The boy cowered in his bed, looking frightened and apologetic.

"I...I'm sorry," he quickly scurried out of the bed, hurrying to his wardrobe; "I...I didn't know what time it was."

"How do you normally know when to awaken?"

"Uh...dad wakes me up."

Severus closed his eyes, immediately feeling guilty; "I...apologise. I was not aware of that."

"'s okay," he quickly pulled his pyjama top over his head, making to pull his t-shirt over in its place.

"No," Severus quickly stopped him; "Do not rush. Please," he indicated down the hall; "Take your time; wash yourself."

"But...school –"

"I will make the excuses, do not concern yourself with that. Now," he gave a quick tilt with his head in the direction of the door, telling him to go. Malachi quickly reached into the cupboard and pulled out fresh underwear and a pair of trousers, before hurrying past him and down the hall.

Severus raised his eyes heavenward.

It would be a long couple of days.

* * *

"The first step to letting go," Julia began, her eyes gleaming as she looked at her, "Dating."

Lily almost groaned and shot her a sceptical look, lowering her coffee cup, "Logic would suggest that's the final step, Jules."

Julia shook a hand, "Believe me, honey, nothing's gonna get you over the first hurdle more than a taste of all the things you've been missing out on."

"Awkward first meetings; awkward dinner conversations; wondering if they're going to take your hand; trying to decide whether or not to finish the evening with a kiss."

"That all sounds very tame," Julia eyed her, "I'm afraid it's all going to be a bit of a culture shock for you, my dear. A lot has changed since courtships and dowries, you know."

"Oh hush, Julia. I don't have any intention of dating –"

"You just said you were ready to move on," Julia interrupted, "Seriously, Lily, don't sit about. The best way to get things moving is to just put yourself back out there."

Lily lifted her cup to her lips, uncomfortable and nervous at the suggestion. Dating was _not_ something she was anticipating. The mind games; the insecurities; the vulnerability. Just the idea was enough to make her shudder.

"When was the last time you..." Julia raised her eyebrows at her, wiggling them suggestively.

Lily released an exasperated sigh, lowering her cup, "You already know the answer to that, Julia."

"Oh please, surely you've had _some_ interactions over the past five years."

"No, I haven't," Lily asserted, firmly, though her resolved stance was demeaned by the uncomfortable heat that was making her blush from her neck upwards.

"Maybe that's why you've been feeling so agitated lately," Julia grinned, "Harry's not all that far off the mark-"

Lily laughed, shaking her head vehemently.

"Julia, please! Stop it."

"I know the _perfect_ guy for you!" she declared.

Lily shot her a dubious look.

"He's sweet, intelligent, he's interested in muggle history and all that, so we know he's not racist. Tall, dark hair –"

"Handsome, too?" Lily offered, with a raised eyebrow, "No thanks, Julia. I'm quite capable of finding someone myself."

"Oh please, this coming from the woman who's been having _platonic_ lunch dates with _Severus Snape_? Really, Lily, how can you be around him every day and control yourself?"

Lily shifted, feeling uncomfortable at the insinuation; "Severus and I are just friends."

"Ah. One of those, is it?"

"What do you mean 'one of those'? We're just friends," she repeated, shaking her head, "Don't make it into something it's not."

"Very defensive," Julia pointed out, with a grin, lifting her own cup to her lips.

"I just don't appreciate people assuming things that aren't true," Lily stated, not really sure why she was so defensive and embarrassed by Julia's subject of teasing.

"Okay, subject dropped. Back to Rodger; you've met him before, actually. At the Christmas Dance when we were doing our apprenticeship, you remember?"

"Rodger Wyatt?" Lily did remember him. He had been a friend of one of the men who she had studied with; had come across him at a few of the functions, and he had seemed friendly enough.

She shrugged.

"I remember."

"Well?"

"Julia," Lily sighed; "You don't even know if he –"

"Oh, believe me, he's interested," Julia assured her with a smirk; "Fancied you for ages."

"Oh...I didn't know...He's never said anything," Lily stammered, surprised; she had had some interested suitors in the past, since James, but, as she had never considered herself available to them, she had refused all offers. She supposed it was no wonder this Rodger Wyatt hadn't attempted to ask her out.

Something Julia confirmed with her next statement.

"Well, he knew that you were still hung up on James. But now," Julia smiled, brightly; "Hope is restored!"

Lily swallowed, her nerves increasing with the information she had just been given; "I don't know, Julia."

"Oh come on. Even if you don't like him, what's the worst that could happen? Besides, this is just the first hurdle. Get the first date out of the way and everything will come to you from there."

"I don't want Harry getting excited –"

"He doesn't have to know. Tell him you're spending the night with me."

"The night?" Lily was aghast; "I won't need the whole night, Julia."

Julia was laughing delightedly at her reaction; "Well, you might want some time to yourself afterwards. Remus doesn't usually mind taking him, does he?"

"No," Lily consented; "Remus is great. He's always willing to take him whenever we need it. He's taking Harry out this afternoon, actually," Lily glanced at the timepiece in the cafe; 8.45am. She'd have to get to the Foundation soon.

"Okay," Julia nodded, with a smile; "Then it's settled. How about this Saturday? It's Valentine's Day, the perfect day for your big comeback to the dating world."

"No. I have Harry's play that night; besides, it's the day after the full moon. Remus won't be feeling up to it." Lily found herself incredibly relieved to be able to offer two valid excuses to avoid that particular date.

"Okay, how about the next weekend? Friday or Saturday?"

"I'm really not sure about this, Julia," Lily shook her head, "Blind dates are questionable even at the best of times."

"You'll like him," Julia insisted, smiling, "Really! I think Friday is better; I know you like to have Saturdays with Harry."

Lily drew in a deep breath, attempting to settle her nerves, before she gave Julia a shrug; "I...I suppose it's the first step."

"Ah, see! You're already coming around to my way of think," Julia winked at her.

Lily forced a smile; her anxiousness making her hands shake as she lifted her cup to her lips.

* * *

Harry ran up to him with a wide, excited smile, as Remus entered the doors to the Phoenix Centre. He returned the smile as Harry reached him, throwing his arms around his waist.

"Uncle Remus! I missed you!"

"I missed you too, little man," Remus returned the sentiment, giving him a one armed hug and a pat on the back; "Are you ready to go?" he asked, noticing a teacher smile and begin to make her way over.

"Uh, yeah," Harry nodded, before he looked over his shoulder, frantically waving his hand at another boy, who was watching them shyly a few metres away. The dark haired boy slowly made his was over, regarding Remus curiously.

Remus smiled at him.

"Hello there."

"Hi," he smiled, shyly, before looking at Harry.

"This is Malachi, Uncle Remus," Harry stated, pulling the boy closer to them, "Uncle Sirius is his uncle too!"

Remus looked back at the boy sharply, suddenly noticing the resemblance; "Oh...are you' Regulus Black's son?" He hadn't know Regulus had a son, but the boy nodded the affirmative, as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

"He really likes ice-skating too!" Harry declared, looking up at him hopefully; "Can he come with us?"

Remus doubted Regulus Black would be happy about his son going anywhere with him; Lupin the werewolf; but he wasn't willing to be the one to wipe the excited, hopeful expressions on the two boys' faces so he nodded; "Sure he can. But I'll have to make sure it's okay with Malachi's dad first, alright?"

"My dad's away," Malachi said, quietly, "His friend is looking after me; Severus."

"Oh." Well then, if he wasn't sure before, he was absolutely certain _now_ that there was no way Malachi would be able to join the two of them. But he forced and smile; "Well, I believe Severus Snape works here as well doesn't he?"

Malachi nodded.

"Well, I'll just have a teacher contact him to find out if that will be alright."

"Okay," Harry smiled brightly, grabbing Malachi's arm as Remus started towards the teacher who was standing at a polite distance nearby; "See, I told you he'd let you come!"

"Mr Lupin?" the young lady smiled at him, glancing down at a piece of parchment she was holding; the was his name, as well as a picture of him on the article; obviously a precaution the centre had for people collecting students.

He smiled and nodded; "Yes, I'm here to collect Harry Potter."

She smiled, holding a hand out in greeting; "I'm Brianna Douglas."

He took her hand in greeting, before he glanced back at the two boys, who were chatting happily, Regulus son appearing much more animated when it was just the two of them; "The other boy, Malachi...Black?"

"Yes?"

"Harry has asked if he can accompany us? The boy said he was currently under the care of Severus Snape?"

She nodded; "Yes, that's right. I'm afraid we cannot release any of the children without the permission of their guardians."

"I understand. Is there any way you could contact Professor Snape and ask for his permission?" He half hoped she couldn't; that he would be too busy. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to show up here, demanding to know why he wanted to whisk his friend's son away for the afternoon.

"Oh well...yes, of course." The girl looked slightly apprehensive at the request however she walked to the large desk at the front of the classroom, pulled a string that rang a bell, and then pulled out some parchment and lifted a quill; "Um...where do you intend to take Malachi?"

"Into muggle London, have look around the shops. Maybe a museum?" It was really up to the boys, to be honest; "Then ice skating later on."

She was scribbling the information down quickly as he told her; "And when do you expect to return him?"

"Umm..." Remus glanced at the timepiece; 2.15pm; "Well, I was going to take Harry for dinner. Malachi could come with us. I could have him back for seven? Is the Centre open that late?"

"You rang, madam?" he young man, perhaps only a teenager, appeared next to them with a smile.

"I need you to deliver this," she stated, before she turned her attention back to Remus, as she continued scribbling the message down; "Yes, we're open until nine. Professor Snape often stays late so I don't think seven would be a problem."

"Oh. That's good."

She gave him a smile, then turned to the boy who had joined them; "Do you know where Professor Snape is?"

"Uh...Bistro, I think?"

She smiled brightly; "Good. I need you to give this to him, and then bring back his response."

The boy took it with a shrug; "Sure. Not bad news though, I hope?"

"No. Don't worry," she grinned.

He smiled, looking relieved, and then turned heading from the room.

Brianna turned to him and smiled; "He shouldn't be long."

Remus smiled and nodded; "Thanks."

* * *

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Do you date?"

Severus looked up at her sharply with a frown; "What?"

Lily was avoiding his eyes, pushing the food around her plate with her fork; "I asked if you date?"

Severus hesitated, wondering where on Earth she was going with this; "Why do you ask?"

She raised her eyes to his and shrugged; "Just curious. I've been thinking about it."

"Why would you be interested?" Severus found himself saying, before he had a chance to think about it. He felt himself redden.

"I don't mean to be nosy." She gave him a sheepish smile; "I was just thinking about dating in general," Lily elaborated; "I...haven't dated in a long time."

"I see."

Severus was at a loss for words, suddenly filled with pictures of himself and Lily eating dinner, much like they were now, only more meaning behind it; better dressed; flirty smiles; 'accidental' touches. Walks along streets lightened by streetlamps. He felt himself redden further, overcome with such thoughts; he could usually control this nonsense.

"So...do you?"

Severus shook his head; "No." And then he hesitated, wondering if perhaps he had just nipped any potential suggestions she may have had in the bud? He quickly shook away the thought.

The most likely reason for the enquiry was; "I presume you have had an offer?"

She shrugged, which was enough to confirm the affirmative. He swallowed, clearing his throat;

"I am afraid I cannot offer any useful advice. This is not my area of expertise."

He suddenly felt like they were back at Hogwarts again and Lily was telling him about her first crush, her first kiss, her first date. Yes; he was truly her friend once again.

This time, though, the thought almost made him groan.

When he looked at her she was looking at him searchingly, a slight smile on her face.

He frowned under her scrutiny; "What?"

Her smile widened into a grin. She shook her head; "Nothing."

"You're smiling."

"No."

She attempted to conceal it, lifting her glass to her lips.

"Grinning, then," he stated, eyeing her suspiciously; "What amuses you?"

"Really, Severus, it's nothing," she waved a hand, but he raised an expectant eyebrow and she sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat, but her smile remained; "It's just...well...you know, you're quite well thought of around here, that's all."

Severus shrugged; "My work is appreciated, that is all."

"Not just because of your work," she raised an eyebrow, with a small smile and she had adopted that teasing tone he was used to, speaking again with more confidence; "I think you have a pretty good idea of what people say about you around here," she added, with a slight grin; "Even if you do pretend not to."

Severus felt himself blush at the implication.

Though he was relieved she had made a more subtle hint rather that outright said what she was obviously musing over. While Regulus and his cousins had often teased him about the very same thing, hearing it from Lily made him feel incredibly self-conscious.

Was this what _she_ thought of him?

Though he knew well enough that it was not. She had obviously heard the ridiculous harping on of others within the company.

He swallowed, avoiding her eyes, unsure how to respond.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you," Lily shrugged, her grin gone.

"I am not embarrassed," he lied.

She lifted her eyes to him, smiling again. He blushed further and she giggled; a delightful sound.

"There is a tendency in the Foundation for the most miniscule of things to be blown entirely out of proportion," Severus stated; "Gossips run rampant around here; it is best not to take any information give at face value."

"Hmm," Lily nodded, though she was still fighting a smile; "Speaking from experience, Severus?" She glanced around the room teasingly; "Old flames lurking in the corners?"

"I would not call them 'flames'," he replied, disinterestedly, "Only acquaintances which I did not wish to pursue further."

"So...you _have_ dated?"

Severus lifted his head and found Lily looking at him curiously. He dipped his head back down.

"Professor Snape?"

The two of them looked up sharply at the young man who had approached. Severus lowered his cutlery; "Shaw. Is there a problem?"

"No problem, Sir," the boy gave him a nod, before holding out a piece of parchment; "A message from the Phoenix Centre."

Severus took the note, a sense of dread washing over him; what had the child done now?

His brow knitted closer together, as he found himself repeating the name on the parchment; "Lupin?"

Lily snapped to attention at that; "Remus? Is something wrong?"

Severus waved a hand to calm her, as he finished reading the note; "Nothing is wrong. Merely an invitation for Malachi to accompany him and your son for the afternoon," he handed the parchment back to the boy with a shake of the head; "I don't think..."

"I believe they're going ice skating," Lily stated, interrupting him; "Didn't you say Malachi enjoyed that?"

Severus frowned; when had he told her that? Though he remembered that it was true; Regulus had told him of Malachi's fondness for ice-skating over Christmas, when he had been attempting to take the boy's mind off Evelyn's death.

He shifted, taking the note back and glancing back down at it; suddenly feeling torn over the options before him. The boy would enjoy himself, that much was certain; but this was _Lupin._ He hated him. Childish, but true. He despised the wolf and if Malachi were _his_ son he would not even considered the option.

But was it fair to keep the boy from an afternoon with his friend because of his own issues with the man?

 _Yes,_ his mind told him.

But he glanced at Lily, who was watching him curiously, as if she was very keen to hear his response.

He cleared his throat, the words coming from his lips almost difficult; "Does Lupin often take care of your son?"

"Almost every week since he was eighteen months old. Changed his nappies and everything."

"How touching," Severus said, with a look of disgust, glancing back down at the note.

"He's wonderful with Harry," Lily went on, further promoting Lupin's abilities as a child carer; "It might do Malachi good; spending some time with a friend."

Severus glanced at her; wondering if him saying no would lead to a disagreement. Wondering if he was petty enough to actually refuse.

"I trust your son has never been injured while under the care of _this_ one?" Severus asked, remembering how the boy had very nearly killed himself under the care of Sirius Black.

Lily gave a half-smile; "Remus is very careful with him. Very sensible."

Severus thought on it for a moment, before he flipped the parchment and accioed a quill; he began scribbling down instructions;

_Under the conditions that he remains within your sight, at all times; that you take them to a museum, not an open aired park; that he is properly supervised whilst ice-skating; that he is properly fed and returned by seven this evening; Malachi may accompany you and Harry Potter this afternoon._

_Do not make me regret this, Lupin._

S.S.

* * *

"I'm gonna go and look for Uncle Sirius," Harry said, quietly to Malachi, as they skated along the edge of the ice rink. He had been gone for ages now; and his Uncle Remus hadn't been able to give him any answers when he had spoken to him about it.

Malachi looked at him with an impressed frown; "You can't. He could be really far away."

Harry shrugged; "I know places he goes sometimes. I can find him."

Malachi didn't look like he believed him, as he glanced in his Uncle Remus' direction.

"You can't tell my Uncle Remus!" Harry quickly said, suddenly wishing he hadn't said anything.

Malachi shrugged; "I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You should come with me!" Harry stated, suddenly, excitedly, before he quickly lowered his volume, as they got closer to passing by his Uncle Remus again; "It'd be fun. Like an adventure!"

"I dunno," Malachi shook his head, looking a bit scared; "My dad would be really angry if he found out. He doesn't like him, remember?"

"But you said your dad's away just now," Harry pointed out; "And you said your dad's friend is always working really hard, so he won't even know. We could go instead of school tomorrow and then be back before bedtime, so he won't know."

Malachi still looked like he was going to say no.

Harry reached out, grabbing his arm; "Please, Malachi? I don't wanna go by myself." Malachi glanced at him and, as he did so, their skates knocked into one another, catching at the blades, and the two of them stumbled and tripped onto the ice.

"Ouch!" Harry grunted, as they hit the cold surface, Malachi on top of him. He noticed his Uncle Remus hurrying around the outside of the rink towards them. He looked at Malachi hopefully;

"Well? Will you come?" he asked, quickly, before the man could arrive; he knew he'd never leave them alone again now.

Malachi still looked frightened but he still shrugged and said; "Okay."

* * *

Harry glanced impatiently out the window of the Phoenix Centre, then at the timepiece on the wall; the little hand of the clock was almost after one. It was getting late. His mum would come for him when the hand was down at the six. He didn't know all that much about time; but he did know that after lunch time it never felt like it was a long time between then and when his mum collected him.

He glanced over at Malachi, who was reading the book on his desk intently, before he made little scribbles of sums on the parchment. He lifted a finger, counted one, then another, counted two, and so on until he grinned and quickly put his hands down, lifted his quill again and wrote the number down.

Harry sighed, rocking back and forth on his seat. He wanted to go during the first break; but Miss Douglas had followed them all over the courtyard and he hadn't had the chance to sneak back into the classroom to collect the cloak.

"Alright, quills down, everyone!" Mrs Gillan called out, ringing a bell; "That's lunch time. Anyone going to the canteen line up at the silver door," she pointed at it; "Anyone with pack lunches that wants to eat outside, the green door," she pointed at the other one.

Everyone quickly jumped down from their stools.

Malachi began to make his way towards the silver door, but Harry quickly grabbed his arm, whispered; "No. We have to get outside."

"I don't have a packed lunch," Malachi said with a shrug, speaking quietly.

"They don't check," Harry stated, lifting his jacket and little bag off the floor at his desk. Malachi hesitated and then lifted his own and followed him to the door to the courtyard. The group of children, larger than the ones going to the canteen, poured out into the cold courtyard.

The boys put their jackets on quickly, before hurrying over to the far corner.

Harry glanced around carefully, before unzipping his bag.

"Look," he whispered, before, with another glance, he tugged his father's invisibility cloak from it. He demonstrated with a hand, in case someone was watching.

Malachi chuckled, his eyes brightening excitedly; "Wow!"

"I know," Harry grinned; "It's my dad's." He glanced at Miss Douglas and Mrs Cronus, who were taking their own seats at one of the picnic tables. He stuffed his almost empty bag into the bushes, which Malachi quickly mimicked, and then the two of them hurried behind a larger bush.

"You have to stay really close or it won't work," Harry told Malachi, firmly; the other boy stood in close, pressed against him, as Harry flung the cloak over them.

Malachi was holding his breath. After a second he realised it, whispering; "Did it work?"

"I dunno. I think so," Harry whispered back, "Come on." The two of them walked awkwardly out from behind the bush \and stood, nervously waiting next to the tree on their left.

People looked through them.

They both looked at one another, grinning brightly.

"It works!" Malachi breathed, looking even more excited than before.

"Come on!" Harry whispered, and the two of them held the cloak tightly around themselves and began walking towards the doors back into the building. They stopped at the door to the classroom, which was closed; Harry looked at the other door that was open, where older witches and wizards were going in and out. He tugged Malachi in that direction.

They stepped into the building and Harry was relieved to be warm again. He supposed he couldn't complain about the cold; he was going to have to go back out when they got to the exit of the building. But he would do it if he got to see his Uncle Sirius again.

The two of them walked awkwardly, not sure where they were going, bumping into one another every other step to get out of the way of the people walking up and down the corridor.

"Ow!" Malachi yelped.

"Shh!"

"You stood on me!" Malachi hissed.

"It was an accident!" Harry hissed back, glancing nervously around the faces of the people walking around them; "Stop talking!" he whispered in his ear; "People might hear."

Malachi stayed quiet; and the two of them waddled down the hallway under the cover of the invisibility cloak.

Suddenly, as they rounded a corner, his mum's face was right in front of him and he jumped back in fright, making Malachi yelp in equal fright.

Harry stared at his mum; she was behind a sheet of glass, sitting at a table. With a man. He could only see the back of him. But he was more interested in his mum; she was smiling; talking; laughing.

Malachi whispered in his ear, making him jump; "That's your mum, isn't it?"

"Uh huh."

"That's my godfather," Malachi whispered; "Severus. He's looking after me."

Harry looked at Malachi curiously, before interestedly taking a few steps along the glass so that he could look at the man his mum was speaking to.

He didn't look like he was as happy as his mum was. He was listening to her; looking at her; nodding; talking just a little bit. He smiled, really small, and his mum smiled back big.

Harry leaned closer, almost pressed against the glass.

"Let's go," Malachi said, tugging on his arm; "If Severus sees me he'll make me go back to school."

Harry didn't move. He was too interested in his mum.

How much she was smiling; how _happy_ she looked.

She didn't look at his Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus like that. He glanced at the man though. He didn't look as friendly as his uncles were.

"Harry!" Malachi whispered, "Lunch will be finished soon. We won't have time to find Sirius."

Harry snapped to look at him when he said that – glanced back at his mum and the man – then turned and the two of them shuffled across the floor, searching for the exit to the building.

* * *

"Excellent findings, Lily!" Eugene exclaimed, as he glanced over the parchment she had submitted; "Excellent! This will be incredibly useful to the research."

Lily smiled, blushing under her manager's praise.

Cornelia Heart smiled at her, obviously pleased with her work also, as Eugene left the room, clutching the parchment in his hand; "Very good work."

"Thanks," Lily said, still blushing, "I...had a little help."

Cornelia nodded, with a knowing smile; "Yes. Severus is quite brilliant when it comes to Project Dorado; though that's no surprise, as he initiated it. Besides, your research focused on a completely different subject matter from what he would help you with; I'm sure a lot of it was your own insights."

Lily shrugged, modestly; "Oh. It really wasn't anything –"

Cornelia chuckled; "You two have been quite the talk of the Foundation, you know."

"Us two?" Lily frowned.

"Severus and yourself," Cornelia elaborated; "It's not like Severus to...take an interest in the 'fairer sex'," she stated, making quotation marks with her fingers.

Lily blushed, "Oh! Oh, no. It's...it's not like that at all. Severus and I are old friends."

Cornelia looked sceptical but it seemed decided to humour her; "Oh, I see. I'm sorry. All a misunderstanding. You know how it is around here - no secrets - everyone knows everyone's business. Even if it's all made up, it's always big news."

Lily nibbled her bottom lip, feeling strangely uncomfortable; "Yes. I have heard that."

"Though it would be rather ironic," Cornelia stated, with a grin; "If he were interested."

Lily paused; part of her not wanting to continuing with the hypothetical idea of Severus being interested in her, part of her wondering the reasoning behind any irony. Her curiosity won out; "Why?"

"Well..." Cornelia glanced at her, as she began flicking through some parchments, "You know it's against company policy for employees to be involved?"

Lily nodded; she had heard that.

"Well, it was Severus' situation that brought that about," Cornelia stated, was a glance around the room, as if she was worried Severus, himself, would be lurking there.

"What do you mean?" Lily frowned, her curiosity reaching higher heights; "What situation?"

Cornelia cleared her throat, before laying down the parchments she was holding; "Not too long after the place opened, Severus was involved with a woman who works here; you might have met her? Dana Wishbone?"

Lily paused a moment; she hadn't officially met her, but she had seen her. Tall, blonde hair, pretty.

Nothing like her.

She shook away the odd feeling; what was that? Jealousy?

No. She found herself feeling more uncomfortable, almost shifty.

"The two of them were involved after he returned from Italy –"

Italy? Severus had never told her he had been in Italy.

"I don't think Severus was nearly as serious about her as she was about him. Lasted a couple of months; talk of the Foundation for a while, as you can imagine," Cornelia was telling her, in a hushed tone, though her eyes were bright, as if she was delighted to finally find someone who didn't know the story for her to tell.

"Anyway; Severus broke it off and, after that happened; she just went crazy. I mean, not _crazy,_ but she started sending love notes; breaking into his office; swapping shifts so she would be working when he was – she was working in the Research Department at this time – and timing breaks so they would bump into one another..."

Lily raised an amused eyebrow, wondering how Severus had managed to get himself in such a position. Why he didn't just have her fired.

"Eventually Severus had enough. He tried to reason with her by himself; when that didn't work he went straight to the boss."

"The boss?" Lily repeated; "Regulus Black?"

"Aye," Cornelia nodded; "And Mr Black had her transferred to another department; told her if she went within ten feet of him she'd lose her job."

"Wow," Lily shook her head at the story, feeling sorry for Severus; how awkward he must have felt; "Poor Severus."

Cornelia chuckled; "Poor rest of the Foundation staff!" she declared; "Severus had Regulus ban any future relationships between colleagues! Any current relationships had to be declared on the spot for it to be accepted; anything after that date was considered gross misconduct."

Cornelia looked at her with a grin and shrugged; "Hence the reason for the irony."

Lily met her eyes and smiled slightly, before reasserting; "Like I said, Severus and I are just friends."

Cornelia still didn't look convinced but didn't say otherwise. She didn't have the chance; because at that moment a nervous looking runner burst through the door.

Cornelia looked at him sharply with a frown; "Shaw? Is something wrong?"

"Uh..." the boy looked nervous, before glancing in Lily's direction; "Mrs Potter?"

She felt a panic seize her; remembered him as the runner from the Phoenix wing from the day before. She stepped towards him; "Yes?"

"Uh...there's a problem at the Phoenix Centre," he stated, nervously, making her stomach drop and heart leap into her throat simultaneously; "It's your son. He's missing."

* * *

Severus was fuming; almost spitting fire and blowing smoke from his nostrils as he addressed the Phoenix staff, after being informed of the details of Malachi and Lily's son's disappearance.

What if they had been snatched by the people who had murdered Evelyn; what if they had simply snatched by _anyone_! How could such a thing have happened, in such a secure facility as this?

"This is an absolute disgrace! What were you doing while these children disappeared? Gossiping about hair and make-up? Perhaps making arrangements for your weekends off? Well I shall tell you what you'll be doing; you'll be looking for a new place of employment! And do not expect a reference!"

"Severus!"

He turned to see Lily hurrying up the corridor towards him, her face pale and expression a picture of panic and dread. She looked at him with terrified, searching eyes; "What happened?"

"It seems that your son and Malachi Redway have _somehow_ ," – he gave a pointed glance in the two teachers' direction – "managed to leave the premises."

"But how? How could they have passed the security guards?" Lily said quickly, "They would have stopped them. Are there any secret passages? Severus, what if someone has taken them?"

She was talking without taking a breath; Severus put a hand on her arm to silence her and then gently guided her away from the others who were listening.

He kept his hand on her arm, speaking reassuringly; "I doubt that would have happened, Lily. People are screened thoroughly upon entering the building, as you know; it would not be possible for them to remove both the children without raising some suspicion."

Lily drew in a breath, attempting to calm herself.

"I have alerted the Ministry. They are monitoring any locations where either of the two of them may use magic. Once we get word we shall be able to trace them."

"Why would either of them use magic? They're just children, they don't know how."

"Has there never been an occasion of accidental magic with your son?"

She shook her head; no.

"Professor Snape!"

Severus turned as a runner, Francis Dalwinkle, hurried towards him, clutching a piece of parchment; "The Ministry has informed us that the trace on Harry Potter has activated," he held out the parchment to him. Severus took it quickly, glancing at the information; "Thornhill."

Lily's eyes eyes widened, while her face paled; "How could they have gotten so far? It would take them hours to get there!"

Severus nodded; they had obviously not travelled on foot, perhaps not even alone, and tucked the parchment away; "I shall investigate."

He only took a few steps before Lily piped up at his heels; "I'm coming with you."

Severus felt like answering that that much was both obvious and expected; instead, he gave her a nod as they hurried down the corridor.

* * *

"Do you even know where we are?" Malachi glared at Harry in irritation. So far they had got on a bus that they were on for ages, that dropped them off in a little town and then walked for what seemed like hours across fields, through the woods and through another little village where scary people had stared at them as they passed by their shops. And then they'd gotten on a train and walked some more until they came to another village.

The next village wasn't so bad; it was a bit bigger. It looked familiar; and so did they, because people were looking and pointing and talking about them as they walked through. They were all dressed in robes; they were all witches and wizards. Someone asked Harry where his mother was, offered to take them into the shop.

Harry had told her no and pretended his mum was waiting for them somewhere, then they ran away.

 _Stranger, danger;_ Harry had said and then had to explain it was a muggle saying and that's why he'd never heard of it.

"Uh huh," Harry said, in answer to his question.

Harry was lying; he knew he was lying. He hated it when people lied to him.

And the search for Sirius didn't seem all that much fun anymore, now that it was almost dark and getting really cold.

He stubbed his toe on a rock as they entered another set of woods; "Ow!" he yelled out, as he tripped and fell onto his knees.

Harry leaned over him, peering at his knee curiously; "I think it's bleeding."

"Do you have a hanky?" Malachi looked at him; Harry shook his head. Malachi rolled up his trouser leg, revealing a cut across his knees and whimpered, looking at it sadly; "It hurts."

"Don't cry; that's what babies do."

"I'm not a baby!"

"Here," Harry started ripping the fabric across the bottom of his shirt; "I saw my mum do it when she was helping a muggle once; mum's a healer. Kinda. She said you've gotta press the cut so it stops bleeding."

Malachi immediately pressed his hand to his knees.

Harry shook his head, kneeling down beside him; "It's too deep for that. Here," Harry tucked the fabric around the back of his knee, then turned it, beginning to wrap it round gently; at the last moment he yanked, pulling the fabric so tight that Malachi yelped again in pain.

"Ow!" he shoved Harry, sending the other boy to the ground with a thud.

"I was just helping!" Harry yelled, angrily, using his arms to push himself onto his bottom. He grabbed the edges of the fabric again; "I gotta pull it really tight or you'll keep bleeding and wolves will come."

"Wolves!" Malachi cried in terror; "There's no wolves here!"

Harry shrugged, glancing around the woods, looking more curious than worried. Malachi's brow stitched together both in pain and in fretfulness; "I wanna go home. You don't even know where Sirius is."

"No one knows. He's hiding; everyone hides in the woods."

"No they don't. If they did everyone would find them."

"Uncle Sirius can turn into a dog when he wants; it won't matter because no one would know it was him."

"I wanna go home," Malachi repeated; "We've been away ages."

Severus would be so angry if he wasn't at the school when he came to pick him up. He'd never seen him angry with _him_ before, but he'd heard him fight with his dad and that was enough to assure him that he didn't ever want to be on the receiving end of his fury.

"We can't go home; what if he's right over there?" Harry pointed in a random direction; one they wouldn't even be walking in.

Malachi shivered, eyeing his wound again, before he pulled the trouser leg back down over it. He got to his feet, realising he was able to walk okay on it.

A rustling in the bushes near them made them both jump and straighten, turning in the direction of the sound. Malachi swallowed, breathing quickly, panicked.

He wished they hadn't left the invisibility cloak earlier.

Harry had said they had to leave it, so people couldn't find them and make them stop looking for Sirius. But now, Malachi wished someone would find them. He felt Harry's hand grip his sleeve, as he peered at the bush, which continued to rustle.

A moment later, a centaur leaped out, landing in front of them.

They screamed.

They sounded like little girls.

The centaur raised an eyebrow, smiling a little bit, obviously thinking it was funny; "What are two little ones like yourselves doing wandering the forest?"

"Uh, n...nothing," Harry stammered, as his grip on Malachi's sleeve tightened; "We were just going home."

"Home? No homes around here, kid."

"Uh...we were looking for my uncle first," Harry explained, before looking at him curiously; "Have you seen him? Sirius Black."

"Afraid not."

"Okay," Malachi quickly nodded, now grabbing Harry's sleeve; so they were both mimicking each other; "Bye!"

He quickly ran, tugging Harry along behind him.

They released one another as they gained speed, hurrying deeper into the forest, the feet slamming against the ground, breaking branches, and trampling all over flowers and weeds, until they both stumbled into a clearing and stopped; hands on their knees, gasping for breath.

Malachi's breath, which he was barely managing to get back, caught in his throat as he stared at a large, white object across the clearing.

He gasped, grabbing Harry's arm; "Harry, look!" he whispered.

Harry spun around and saw what he saw; a unicorn.

It hadn't noticed them. It was grazing in the grass; it seemed to glow and sparkle in the dark woods.

Malachi wished he had his painting supplies with him.

"Wow," Harry whispered, taking a step towards it.

"Don't move, you'll scare it," Malachi whispered.

"Now now; what d'we have 'ere then?" a gigantic man appeared from the bushes to the left of them.

Malachi and Harry stumbled backwards away from him, but Harry's leg caught a branch and he fell backwards. Malachi quickly leaned down, trying to pull him up.

"Careful there; ye don' want te hurt him more that he already is," the man said, sounding jolly and friendly; but Malachi was still frightened, staring at him in terror.

The man kneeled down in front of them. He looked between them, then stopped when he looked at Harry; and he peered at him for a moment before he smiled widely; "Nah, couldn't be? Little Harry Potter?"

Harry stared at him and Malachi could tell he didn't know who he was.

"Just leave us alone, mister," Malachi said, trying to sound stronger, but he stammered and sounded frightened and he blushed.

"Can't be doing that, I'm 'fraid. You two got any idea where ye are? Nah, you'll have to come back t' the castle wi' me. Let Dumbledore see t' ye."

Both Malachi and Harry straightened with wide eyes.

Dumbledore was someone they'd only ever seen on chocolate frog cards.

"We're at Hogwarts?" Harry said, excitedly.

"No right now yer not," the man stated; "This is the Forbidden Forest. Yer very lucky you haven' been snatched or worse. What you two doin' out here? Where's your mum, Harry?"

Harry shrugged; "Working. Who are you?"

"Pardon my manners," the huge man held out a huge hand; "Rubeus Hagrid."

Malachi eyed him suspiciously but Harry took his hand and shook it. The man looked in his direction, holding the hand out to him; "An' yourself?"

Malachi glanced at Harry who nodded slightly.

Malachi looked back at him, cautiously taking his hand; "I'm Malachi."

The giant, Hagrid, stood up and towered over them; "Well, come on. It's a bit of a trek back t' the castle."

He and Harry quickly got to their feet.

"We can't," Harry said; "We're looking for my Uncle Sirius."

"Sirius? Is he out here with ye?"

"Uh, no," Harry shrugged; "He went away ages ago. He's looking for someone."

Malachi thought the man looked like he knew what Harry was talking about but he didn't say that. He just nodded; "Well, it's gettin' way too dark for two little things like yourselves to be running around in the Forbidden Forest. Let's get ye both back t' the castle and see what Dumbledore has t' say. He might be able t' give ye a hand."

Harry nodded immediately and began to follow the man back through the tress.

Malachi grabbed his arm, speaking quietly as they followed him; "What about 'stranger danger'?" he repeated what Harry had said to him earlier in a whisper.

"It's okay. You heard, he knows Dumbledore," Harry stated, confidently.

" _Everyone_ knows Dumbledore," Malachi countered, quietly, "Even bad people."

"I think he's nice."

"Maybe he just wants you to think he's nice but really he's really horrible and nasty and likes to use children in potions or something."

"Shh! If he hears you he might not help us," Harry hissed, looking anxiously at the man's back.

Realising that his only options were to follow this man or to wonder off by himself in the woods - the Forbidden Forest – Malachi reluctantly conceded and settled into silence as they were led deeper into the trees, the darkness falling around them even more quickly than before.

Dreading what would happen when Severus went to get him from school.


	16. February 1987: Moment of Truth

"This is my fault."

Severus glanced over at Lily at the self-deprecating statement, as they traipsed through the trees that the people whom they had spoken to had indicated. Her forehead glistened with perspiration, after hiking through various woods and fields that locals had guided them towards, but he supposed it was a good thing considering how quickly the temperature had dropped since the sun had began to set.

He was glad that, despite being a pretty lousy father when it came to actually being present, Regulus was actually quite a worrywart of a parent and had insisted that Severus ensure the boy only ever left the house dressed in a huge, fleece lined cloak, a scarf, a hat and gloves. At least the child wouldn't freeze to death under his care.

"How could it possibly be your fault?" Severus asked, derisively; "It is the incompetence of the Phoenix staff that is to blame. At least we may take comfort in the fact that anytime they have been spotted they have been alone; therefore the children have not been removed or taken against their will."

"Not yet," Lily added, quietly, lifting her skirt a few inches to climb over a fallen branch; "Harry!" she called out, loudly, her hands on either side of her lips to increase her volume, making him jump.

She called her son's name again; though he did not entertain the idea and begin calling for his godson. A simple tracking would do well enough for him; he waved his wand over the leaves at his feet and, sure enough, the spell indicated that small footsteps had gone in that direction.

Lily released a shaking breath, before lowering herself onto a log, as Severus followed the footsteps, glancing around in the bushes and small hollows in the trees for any signs that the steps had belonged to their charges.

Severus glanced over at her, her despair, regret and desperation coming off of her in waves; he straightened and, continuing to glance in various hollows and nooks that surrounded them, he addressed her; "You should not blame yourself for this, Lily. No doubt the children are re-enacting some children's story they have heard and view this as some exciting expedition. Children often get foolish ideas into their heads. I am sure you remember how you and I were at nine years old?"

A slight smile tugged at her lips at his reminder but she kept her eyes on her clasped hands in her lap; "He's more like his father than I thought."

Severus, who had been bending to look in another tree hollow, hesitated in his movements at the mention of James Potter. He felt that familiar rise of bitterness, of _hatred_ , that he always felt when he thought of the man; quick memory flashes of events that had taken place in his school years, when he too was a child, passed before his eyes. Younger years being taunted, teased, hexed, jeered at; older years watching his best friend, who was no longer his best friend, holding hands with the man, smiling at him, laughing with him, kissing him.

He drew in a silent, calming breath, forcing away those memories and the feelings that came with them; events that had taken place almost a decade ago now. They were no longer important. Nor were they anything for him to waste his thoughts or emotions on; even if he always would hate James Potter.

He wondered just how much like his father Lily's son was?

"If that is true then take comfort in the fact that your husband often managed to dip in and out of trouble whenever it suited him with very little consequence."

Then he paused; because, in the end, that wasn't true. He cast a careful glance at Lily, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, but she didn't address the comment.

"I'm a terrible mother."

"Is this really the time for self-pity?" Severus straightened, earning himself a glare from her. He held her look for a moment, then resumed his search for clues; "I'm sure that is not true."

"He told me he hated me last week."

"He is a child. Children often make insincere comments in an attempt to hurt."

"No, he meant it."

Severus cast her an unconvinced look, as he knelt and pulled back some branches of a bush to peer inside; "Lily, I am sure your son doesn't hate you."

"Maybe not hate," Lily conceded; "But he is resentful. And disappointed; for good reason, though."

Severus made to comment, however his hand came into contact with a soft piece of fabric. He frowned and grabbed it, pulling it from the confines of the bushes. He looked down at the cloak in his hand with a frown, before he stood and made his way towards Lily; "Does this belong to your son?"

Lily stood quickly, taking it from his hands; "This is James' invisibility cloak!" As if to demonstrate, she flung it around herself and, promptly, her body disappeared so that she was only a floating head. The sight may have been amusing if not for the fact that this cloak had often been a tool in Black and Potter's pranks when he was a child.

"Then we are on the right track," Severus stated, brusquely, making his way in the direction of the footsteps that his charm had picked up; "They cannot have gotten much further; there is nothing beyond here but fields and they would have become bored."

Lily tucked the invisibility cloak away and followed him; her previous, disparaging thoughts seeming to have been wiped away for the time being.

* * *

Harry and Malachi walked through the castle with wide eyes; everything amazing and new to them. Ghosts floated by and Hagrid, the man who was leading them, would greet them with a smile and a laugh as if the whole thing was normal, and children wandered through in black robes with various coloured ties; red and gold; green and silver; yellow and black; blue and bronze.

The red and gold ones reminded him of his dad's room at the hospital; everything there was red and gold.

Harry liked the green and silver ties better; it made him think of his mum. She liked to wear green a lot.

Harry saw a boy holding a wand, waving it; and then a little flurry of sparks burst from the tip and he suddenly couldn't wait until he could get his own wand and come to Hogwarts so he could learn how to use it.

They arrived at a wall.

"Liquorice," Hagrid said; and the wall turned revealing a spiral staircase. A large hand guided him towards it and he climbed in first; Malachi still didn't trust the man, even though he had stopped being so suspicious when they had first seen the castle at the edge of the forest.

"This is awesome," Harry whispered.

Malachi glanced at him, looking equally excited, as they ascended, but didn't say anything.

Moments later they were walking into a large office, where books lined the walls, portraits with nosey people peered down at them, and a large desk sat in the middle of the room, an old man both of them recognised from their chocolate frog cards sitting behind it.

Malachi looked even more excited now and he and Harry smiled brightly.

The old man lowered his half moon glasses, peering over at them curiously as he stood; "Hagrid, who are these young boys?"

"Beggin' your pardon, Headmaster; found these little ones in the Forbidden Forest. Wanderin' around all on their own, they were. Thought I'd best bring 'em back here."

Dumbledore was looking at Harry, as if trying to figure out who he was. After a moment he gave him a smile; "Is this Lily Potter's son?"

Harry's smile widened and he nodded, stepping forward; "Uh huh. I'm Harry," he quickly held out a hand to him. The old man chuckled and shook his hand obligingly, before turning his eyes to the other boy.

"And who is your friend?"

Harry quickly waved a hand at him to come over; "This is Malachi Redway."

Dumbledore's eyes softened, as if he knew everything about him, and he held out a hand to him. Malachi took his hand eagerly, shaking it; "Pleased to meet you."

"Ah, the pleasure is mine, my boy," Dumbledore smiled warmly at him; "I have heard a great deal about you. Your father is a good friend of mine."

Malachi's eyes widened; "You know my dad?"

"I do," Dumbledore nodded, before looking back at Harry; "And yours too, Harry."

Harry didn't care. _He_ didn't even know his dad; "Do you know my Uncle Sirius?"

"I do."

"Do you know where he is?" Harry went on, eagerly; Dumbledore was the greatest wizard alive, he would know how to find him.

"I do not, I'm afraid," he lifted a glass bowl that was filled with sweets; "Please, help yourselves to some lemon drops."

Harry, still disappointed that the old man couldn't help with finding his uncle, stuck a hand into the bowl, coming out with a handful of the hard boiled sweets. Malachi was more reserved, taking only a couple with his thumb and index finger; "Thanks."

"Thank you," Harry followed suit, reminded of his manners.

Dumbledore watched them as they eagerly devoured the sweets in the hands before he addressed Hagrid; "You say you found them in the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid?"

"Aye. Looked pretty shaken up."

Dumbledore nodded; "I'm sure there are still animals to be tended to this evening? I shall take care of these two and alert their parents to their whereabouts."

Hagrid accepted the dismissal and said goodbye to the boys.

"Bye," Harry smiled; Malachi gave him a shy smile.

"Might an old man ask what two young boys were doing wandering the Forbidden Forest?" Dumbledore addressed them, once the other man had left.

"We're looking for my Uncle Sirius; he's Malachi's uncle as well, you know."

"Yes, I did know," Dumbledore nodded, though he looked more serious than before; "I assume your mother doesn't know where you are, Harry?"

Harry glanced at the timepiece on the wall; his heart sinking when he noticed that the little hand was now well beyond nine and his mum would have gone to the Phoenix Centre to get him by now. He looked at Dumbledore; "She was working."

"But she won't be working now, will she? She will be very concerned."

"We thought we'd be back before school finished," Malachi piped up, before he plucked a sweet from the pile in Harry's hands.

"Your dad will be very worried about you, also, Malachi."

Malachi shook his head; "My dad's away. My godfather's looking after me; Severus."

Harry thought that Dumbledore was going to laugh; he grinned instead; "And you do not think that Severus will be cross with you once he realises that you are missing?"

Malachi looked at him with nervous eyes.

"My mum's friends with Severus," Harry pointed out, remember the man he had seen her with earlier that day; "Do you know him too?"

Dumbledore nodded. Malachi was right; he knew everyone.

"And my Uncle Remus too?"

"All former students of mine," Dumbledore stated; and Harry remembered that his uncles, his mother and his father had all gone to Hogwarts when they were kids.

Malachi tugged his scarf from his neck, unfastening his cloak, and Harry suddenly realised how hot it was in the room. He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his hat.

"Yes, do make yourself comfortable," Dumbledore pointed his wand at the simple chairs, transforming them into two large armchairs and they quickly jumped up onto the same one, squeezed together, as Dumbledore summoned a house elf and had her deliver hot chocolate, cakes and biscuits.

* * *

It was freezing.

And it was dark and late; almost nine thirty. Well beyond her son's bedtime and yet they still had not managed to find the boys. She had checked in with Remus twice; both times he had heard nothing and both times he had insisted he return with her and accompany her with the search. But, despite that, they both agreed it was best he remained at home in case Harry should show up at his flat again, as he had done the last time he had run away.

The footsteps Severus had managed to trace had taken them to a train station and, since then, they had been apparating to each of the stops to check for any signs that either of them had been there until they had come to the last possible stop which was only a few miles from Hogsmeade and had taken their chances there.

They had been in luck; they had come across a witch that Lily had known whilst serving the Order; someone who had offered their home as a safe house, who recognised and had spoken with Harry.

It had been somewhat of a relief to learn; but that relief was short lived when the witch had informed them that the children had made off in the direction of the road leading to the Forbidden Forest.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? Who allows two young, unaccompanied children simply to wander off in the direction of one of the most dangerous locations known to man?" Severus seethed.

Lily had rescued the woman from his fury, though her feelings were much the same, insisting to Severus that they should hurry and try to catch up to them. If they had actually entered the Forest then they had to track them down as soon as possible.

She forced away all the terrible thoughts that were constantly coming to mind; images of all the terrible things, terrible creatures that her son could have come up against while here. So far she and Severus had wandered the Forbidden Forest for almost half an hour and had been lucky enough not to see anything.

Severus had insisted she hide beneath the invisibility cloak; refusing her offer to join her beneath it, saying it was not large enough and would do little for protection if it could not conceal them both completely.

Every few moments, his hand would reach behind him, where she was standing, and brush against the fabric of the cloak, to check she was still there.

"I can't believe they managed to get all the way to Hogwarts from the Foundation," she said, quietly.

Severus never responded; his wand held tightly in his hand, the tip lit, as he glanced around the area. After a few moments he spoke; "You said earlier you believe your son is disappointed in you? Perhaps you and Regulus ought to get together and compare notes."

Lily frowned; "What do you mean?"

"Only that Regulus also believes he is failing as a father," Severus stated, and Lily thought there was an unspoken agreement with the statement in his tone; "You said you believe your son is resentful? Do you believe he has willingly run away?"

Lily hesitated, almost stumbling over a branch, as she was reminded of her more recent dealings with her son. Silly things like not even knowing he was learning an instrument; finding out he thought exactly the same regarding her attitude towards James; being shocked by his maturity when they had finally spoken about all the things that were wrong; "I don't know. To be honest; I don't really know my son at all."

Severus glanced over his shoulder, right at her, but of course he couldn't see her.

"You are doing your best, I'm sure."

Lily smiled slightly, though the comment really didn't make her feel any better. Severus knew so little about everything that had been going on with her; things that were going on at home. With Harry; with Sirius. He only knew the other side of her; the one that pretended all that wasn't happening. The one who pretended everything was okay; that they were still fifteen years old, best friends at Hogwarts.

And, she realised, that's how they had been back then too. Burying their heads in the sand; ignoring the chaos going on around them; ignoring the pointed looks; the stares; the house prejudices. They never addressed them. They simply ignored the world that was falling apart around them until, finally, their tactic of ignorance blew up in their faces and suddenly that's _all_ they could talk about. And it was all that mattered. And they couldn't overcome it. It had consumed them and then destroyed them.

With a sigh she pulled the cloak from her head, revealing herself. And when he turned around sharply at her action she felt as if she were truly revealing herself to him for the first time. He hesitated in his protest, obviously seeing the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away before they could fall.

"Lily," Severus' voice was soft, reassuring; "Your son will be fine."

She glanced at him and shook her head; "You don't know that. And even if he was; there's more damage to him that just this," she waved an arm at nothing, with a shrug; "I mean...I've really messed up with him. Like... _really_..."

She sounded like a teenager again, a whiny teenager; and mused at the irony that here she was trying _not_ to be like that girl she had been back then and, while changing the tactic of concealment, had now revert to the same behaviour.

Severus looked unsurely at her for a moment, before he walked over to her, placing a hand on her arm and guiding her towards a boulder; "Sit down. We shall take a few moments."

He kept his hand on her arm a little longer than strictly necessary after she had sat down and she found herself enjoying the comfort of it; and felt strangely bereft when he removed it.

Lily drew in a deep breath, attempting to gather her thoughts; thoughts that were all coming at once; "I've been neglecting him."

"I highly doubt that."

"No," she shook her head, "No. I mean, not on purpose, of course. I...I've been so concerned with other things. Things that weren't important...well, no that's not true, they _are_ important... _were_ important..." she raised frustrated hands to her face, rubbing it agitatedly; "God...what a fucking mess!"

"Lily, take a moment and breathe," Severus' hand was on her upper arm, rubbing it, and she felt a jolt within her at the contact. She leaned into his touch slightly. After a moment she lowered her hands from her face and raised her eyes to his.

He was looking at her warmly, his eyes full of so much concern and fondness, that she almost caught her breath. She swallowed, before she shifted over and patted the small spot next to her. Severus eyed it, as if doubting he would be able to squeeze onto such a small area, but obliged and they sat with their arms pressed tightly against one another, as they attempted to fit on the small surface.

"Severus..." she hesitated, about to broach subject that they never spoke about. Another subject they never acknowledged; "For a long time...until recently...I was very focused on finding a cure for James."

As expected, she immediately felt Severus tense. He moved slightly, as if to stand, but, after a second, he stilled though never spoke.

"And...and Harry's suffered the consequences of that. I...I haven't been there for him."

She felt Severus relax slightly, as the direction of conversation changed; "I see."

"Sirius and Remus have practically raised him; I've been off wasting money, time, giving everything I have to try and find something that I don't think can even be found –"

"I hope those are not your true sentiments, considering your current placement at the Foundation."

Lily glanced at him; noticed his eyes light with teasing amusement. She gave him a small smile.

"Now he's lost any connection he may have had, even to his father's memory. He looks at Sirius as if he were his father; as if he doesn't even need a mother. He blames James for me not being there for him."

Severus looked like he was struggling over what he wanted to say but, after a few moments of silence, he said; "It is only natural that you would do everything you can to get your husband back, Lily."

To anyone else his expression would look blank; but she remembered how he was when they were at school. She remembered how easily she could read him then; decipher every twitch of his lips, the movement of his jaw, of his eyes. And she found it was something she could still do, even now. She could read everything he was trying to conceal.

It had hurt him to say it.

Lily bit her lip, ten years of guilt suddenly falling upon her shoulders, and she reached for his hand. His hand twitched in surprise when she touched it with hers, but he didn't pull away when she took it and squeezed it.

"Severus," she whispered; "I...I'm really sorry for everything."

"You have already apologised," he attempted to pull back his hand, but she held on tight, and he didn't try any harder to remove it.

"Not for...James."

Severus looked at her fully at that; and she could see a betrayal in his eyes, the same look he had often given her across the rooms whenever their eyes had met in those final few months of Hogwarts. After she and James had become official and the other students had learned about them.

"I do not need your apologies for the behaviour of James Potter."

And he spoke her husband's name with such distain that she almost flinched. She swallowed, lowering her eyes; "I meant for...I know it couldn't have been easy for you; seeing me with him."

This time he did pull his hand from hers; "Stop, Lily. This is all in the past; and not something I wish to discuss."

"But don't you think we ought to discuss it?" she asked, as Severus stood. She also got to her feet; "I mean, how can we really be friends if we've got this hanging over us all the time? We've tried it before, remember? Pretending other things don't matter; that we aren't affected by everything going on around us?"

Severus met her eyes at the reminder of their Hogwarts years.

Lily swallowed; "I just...I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't."

He sounded so certain; so sure. And then he added; "Not if you don't want to."

Lily frowned at the condition; "What do you mean?"

Severus seemed uncertain about whether or not he wanted to elaborate, but went on; "Only that it will not be me who ends this friendship."

Lily couldn't help but notice the obvious indication that it would be _her_ who ended their relationship; and she was left wondering if he was making a point regarding her previous severing of their friendship or if he was implying she may end it in the future; that there may be a reason why she would want to end it in the future.

"Your previous relationship is of no concern to me. I accept your apology and ask that we do not discuss it further. What's done is done. I accept that and acknowledge it."

He walked brusquely by her, deeper into the forest. She quickly grabbed the invisibility cloak, though didn't put it on, and hurried after him; "Severus, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I am not upset."

She reached out, grabbing his arm so she could pull him around, and he turned to face her.

She swallowed, looking up at him, apologetically; "Yes you are."

His expression was passive; emotionless; but she could still tell.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, going on; "I just...I wanted to be honest with you."

Severus stared at her a moment; his lips parted, as if to speak, then pressed tightly together; he looked away and she thought she could see guilt, regret in his eyes. But it was gone when he looked back at her.

"Lily, I know there are things I do not know about you. Things regarding your son; regarding your husband. I do not expect you to tell me the details of this. Or of what you have been doing for the past ten years."

Lily frowned, confused at the reasoning behind his statement.

After a moment he changed the subject; "Perhaps you should check if Lupin has heard anything more regarding your son."

She kept her eyes on his a few moments longer, searching for something; because suddenly she realised he was hiding something from her. Something he didn't want her to know. But she knew better than to expect an answer to her questions; and that she definitely wouldn't get any considering the way Severus had closed up over the past few minutes.

So she nodded and handed the cloak to him; "Put this on, then. I won't be needing it." Severus took it but didn't put it on, only watched as she stepped back and dissaparated.

* * *

"Could you help me look for him?"

Harry was looking at Dumbledore hopefully, having relayed all of the events of the day, as well as why his Uncle Sirius had left them. He wasn't surprised that Dumbledore knew who Peter Pettigrew was either, and that he also knew all about why he was in prison and that he'd now escaped.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts seemed to know everyone and everything!

When he found out they had been out since lunch time and hadn't eaten, he had had the house elf from before bring up roast dinners for them; but they could hardly eat it all after satisfying their appetites with the cakes and biscuits provided to them before that.

"I am sure your Uncle Sirius is fine, Harry. And he will return to you once his task is complete. However, if it brings you comfort, I promise that if I am to come across him I will tell him to get in contact with you."

Harry smiled, pleased, certain that he would see his uncle soon. Dumbledore knew so much that his Uncle Sirius would probably go to him for help sometime to try and find Peter.

"It appears today's events have all been too much for your friend," Dumbledore chuckled.

Harry looked in the direction Dumbledore indicated; Malachi was sleeping, curled up in the chair next to him. Harry yawned, the sight of his friend asleep reminding him how late it was. He looked at the timepiece; "Maybe you could tell my mum that I'm here?"

"I have already sent a message your mother's way," Dumbledore stated, smilingly; "And also to your Uncle Remus."

Harry smiled and nodded, yawning again.

Dumbledore stood; "Come. As Malachi is currently under Professor Snape's care, I am sure he would not mind the two of you waiting in his chambers for him."

Harry quickly shook Malachi's arm to wake him and slid down from the chair, hurrying after the old man.

* * *

Severus scowled as he sat waiting for Lily on a fallen log; Potter's invisibility cloak held tightly in his hands. Hell would freeze over before he would resort to using James Potter's belongings as if they were his own.

The conversation he had just had with Lily had left a sour taste in his mouth; the bitterness of regret and guilt washing over him so hard and fast that he had had to send her away because he couldn't possibly look into those eyes and keep those emotions under control. He needed time to gather his thoughts; his composure.

Here she was declaring honesty and friendship, while he continued to conceal something so big, so abhorrent that it would surely be the end of their friendship if she were to ever find out. He wished he had just confessed from the beginning; better yet, he wished he had gone to trial and she had simply read all about his past mistakes in the Prophet when the war ended almost six years ago.

Instead he had kept the secret; allowing them to become closer, allowing it to get to the point that it would almost be a betrayal to reveal the truth to her now.

He closed his eyes, forcing away the thought; no it wouldn't. They hadn't been friends. And he had owed her nothing back then.

But he owed her now, his mind reminded him. He was her friend now; a good enough friend that she had decided to confide in him about her problems regarding her son.

Though that was another issue that left him feeling bitter.

Although he had expected as much, considering her Fellowship application, to hear her state outright that she continued to long for her husband's return, though obvious, only served to revive the jealous, angry little boy inside him that he had been when he was fourteen, fifteen, and had realised that his enemy fancied his best friend and hoped to take her away from him.

But this was different, he reminded himself. She wasn't _his._ And Potter wasn't taking her away. He had her. He had taken her heart long ago.

Severus swallowed; but he was her friend now. He had another chance at that. And it wasn't a chance he was willing to destroy; not this time.

So he had to tell her the truth. He had to be honest with her, like she was being with him.

He had to tell her what he had been; that he had been a Death Eater. And he had to tell her about the prophecy. In the end, Neville had been chosen; but she deserved to know why she had been put in hiding for over a year.

It may be the end of their friendship. But they were getting close; so close; and he knew it would destroy him if they got any closer and it ended then, if she found out from someone else.

Something that could no longer be avoided; the darkening mark on his arm a frequent reminder of that.

At that moment she apparated before him, her eyes wide;

"Severus! They're at the Castle!"

* * *

Dumbledore never ceased to amaze him with his audacity.

To leave two unaccompanied children in his chambers, his _private_ chambers, under the assumption that he 'would not mind'.

How could he not mind such a thing?

Even if he did not keep many of his own belongings within his Hogwarts chambers, he still used the rooms on occasion. They were still _his._ And the idea that two rowdy children were now in them, unsupervised, potentially destroying anything that he had misfortunately left there on his last stay was horrifying.

He strode down the corridors of the dungeons, his robes billowing, while Lily struggled to keep up the pace behind him, and students on patrol stepped aside with wide eyes; clearly surprised to see the professor within the school after hours.

He burst open the door to his chambers and found himself irritated that the old man had not thought it necessary to re-ward the room following his departure.

He glanced around the room, as Lily hurried in behind him, also scanning the room; "Harry?"

Severus frowned, before he glanced in the direction of his own bedroom. He frowned; _surely not?_ He strode over the door, not quite closed, and pushed it open.

Sure enough; there they were.

Malachi lay curled up on his bed, still in his day clothes, sleeping soundly as he wrapped one arm around the pillow beneath his head. Next to him was a boy he had never met but whose identity he knew well enough; Harry Potter.

Even in sleep, Severus could see the resemblance to James Potter. Same messy hair; same nose; same chin; same cheekbone definition, even at six years old.

He felt Lily step in beside him; heard an exhale of relief at the sight of her son, safe and sound, before her.

Severus made to step towards the boys, fully intended to grab them and remove them from his room at once, when he felt Lily's hand on his arm, stilling him. He glanced at her and she lifted a finger to her lips, telling him to keep quiet. And then she took his hand again, as she had already done that night; and he suddenly wondered when they had become so comfortable with one another that such touches had become common.

They had touched frequently that day, he realised.

And then he realised, with some alarm, that Lily Potter was in his _bedroom._

Granted, there were two young boys on the bed and he very rarely spent the evenings there; however, the fact remained; this was his bedroom. A room he could use as he pleased. And it was no secret what bedrooms often _were_ used for; and suddenly some very inappropriate thoughts were passing through his mind.

The thoughts were fleeting as, when Lily had taken his hand, she had begun drawing him from the room. But they still left him feeling uncomfortable, embarrassed and hot all over; and he knew that he was beginning to redden by the time they were back in the living area.

"The children cannot be comfortable; they are still in their day clothing and are sleeping above the covers," Severus stated the obvious, avoiding her eyes as he made his way towards the counters of his open plan kitchen area.

"Maybe let them rest a while," Lily suggested, before she added with a glance at the door; "Harry has a lot of work to do tomorrow."

Severus grinned at the implication of the punishment she had lined up for him; and then realised with some exasperation that he would have to think up a punishment for the other boy.

"Perhaps a little while. I do not often stay here and, as you see, there is no other rooms for guests."

"Oh!" Lily looked embarrassed, "No...I didn't mean we would stay all night..." Now she looked red as well and he wondered if she was being plagued by the same thoughts he was having just moments ago.

Something about this situation, about having Lily here, in his living quarters, seemed entirely inappropriate. He almost felt like he was being teased.

He wondered if that had been Dumbledore's intention.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, taking two mugs from the cupboard.

"Um, tea would be fine," she accepted, still standing in the middle of the room; "Milk, two sugars."

"I remember." Severus glanced at the chair and the couch, both of which within a foot of her. He smirked; "You can sit."

She gave him an uncomfortable looking smile, before she shrugged out of her cloak and sat down on the couch. She pulled off her gloves and then tugged the scarf from her neck, placing them neatly over the arm rest, as he went about preparing their drinks.

He hesitated when he reached her, holding them; he handed the mug with her drink to her, as he quickly attempted to decide whether or not to sit down beside her or take a seat in the armchair nearby. Judging by his previous thoughts, as well as the obvious tension that seemed to have arisen out of nowhere upon finding themselves in his rooms, the most logical decision would be to put some distance between them and sit down in the chair.

He sat down next to her on the couch.

She rolled her eyes; "What a day." She sounded more relaxed, more like herself now that she knew her son was safe.

"Indeed," he agreed. He vowed that Regulus would pay for this when he returned.

Lily was glancing around the room. There was very little in it. A small bookcase not quite full; a desk with piles of parchments upon it; assignments of his students that he had to mark. There was very little to indicate the rooms belonged to him; no pictures or decor of any kind.

"Do you have any classes tomorrow?"

Severus nodded; "I do; I teach classes every morning, as well as Tuesday afternoons. Other than that, I am usually at the Foundation."

"Busy," Lily said with a raised eyebrow.

"Dumbledore and Regulus are very accommodating with my schedule; though a lot of the professors here were not keen to have their own class timetables swapped around at first, in order to accommodate having potions taught only in the mornings."

"But Dumbledore was determined to have you?" Lily asked with a smile.

Severus nodded; once again he was reminded that she had no idea the reasons behind his 'decision' to go into teaching.

"How are you finding having Malachi?" Lily asked, glancing in the direction of his bedroom.

"It was of no particular inconvenience," Severus stated, before adding; "Until today, of course."

"Is Regulus Black away on business?"

Severus paused, glancing at the roof with a frown; "Yes...some...something like that." What was Dumbledore doing _here?_ Had he sent Regulus off on this dangerous mission alone?

The thought angered him.

"You said he's been struggling with looking after Malachi," Lily went on, oblivious to his darkening thoughts; "That must be difficult for you; I imagine you've had to take on some parental duties of your own."

Severus glanced at her, tilting his head with a slight smirk; "Believe me, that is not the case. I have made it very clear to Regulus that all parental duties for the boy fall upon him, including discipline. Unfortunately, I will have to step in in this case."

She smiled slightly; "Will you be attending the fundraiser this weekend?"

Severus almost groaned at the reminder of the Phoenix Centre's Valentine's Day Play; "Unfortunately I have no choice."

Lily giggled; "Well, it'll be nice to be there to cheer on your godson, don't you think?" she teased.

"I assure you, there will be no 'cheering'," he looked at her out the corner of his eyes, seeing her wide smile, and he was pleased to see how quickly she had gone from being the concerned, worrying mother from earlier to the woman he recognised.

"It'll get easier," Lily stated, looking down at the liquid in her cup.

Severus turned his head to look at her; "What will?"

"Parenting," she elaborated, looking at him; "I mean, I'm obviously still waiting on that," she chuckled as she said it, but he could tell she didn't find it all that amusing; "But I've heard, and I've seen, that it gets easier. Regulus just needs some time."

Severus held her look, before giving a slow nod. He glanced in the direction of the fire, as Lily leaned back on the couch, relaxing a bit more fully.

"Unfortunately, there are other issues which make parenting a little more difficult."

He felt the couch move, indicating that Lily had looked at him at that. But she didn't question what he meant; and he realised she wasn't sure if she could. He drew in a breath and also leaned back, though he didn't look at her.

"I'm sure you know about Regulus' past."

He risked a glance at her. She held his look for a moment before she nodded; "Yes. The trial was reported on quite extensively."

"Yes."

"They weren't able to prove anything. Witnesses were asked to come forward but none did so."

Severus nodded, looking down, "Yes. In the end the case was dismissed due to a lack of evidence. However, as you are probably aware, some did not take kindly to him being exonerated. It was such a person who killed Malachi's mother."

Lily nodded, looking sympathetic; "That's awful, Severus."

Severus glanced at her; "What these people don't realise is that such acts are not necessary. Regulus punishes himself enough by himself for what he did."

Lily never responded; he glanced at her, noticing her looking thoughtful as she fiddled with the sleeve of her top.

"Guilt is with him every day; remorse, regret. So much he can barely live with himself. Of course he conceals it; Regulus always conceals his deepest feelings from others. He is always so keen to please; and always keen to keep up appearances at the detriment of himself."

Lily glanced at him with so much compassion that it made him hate himself, and the truth he was going to have to confess to her; "It seems like you know him really well. He's lucky to have you; if others refuse to see what he's going through."

Severus paused; "Well...very few have experienced what he has," he stated, looking back in front of him, at the fireplace; "Defectors were often dealt with swiftly; few survived. And any Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban...most are just grateful to not have had to serve their time, while some may not feel that what they did was wrong," Severus glanced down, going on; "Therefore it is difficult for people to understand what he is going through; how he feels regarding what happened during the war."

A silence fell over them. It was heavy. A tense, long silence.

After a moment, he felt the motion of her turning her head to look at him; "Do you?"

Severus swallowed. This was it. He could tell her now; if he didn't, he never would.

He forced himself to turn his head to look at her; the sight of those green eyes gazing into his took any words he had been ready to say from him and he could only stare back.

She drew in a breath, before she repeated her question; "Do you understand what he's going through?"

Severus held her look a moment longer, before he moved his head in a slight nod; "Yes."

Lily held his look for a moment; and in that moment he saw a number of emotions pass over her expression; sadness, disgust, disappointment, regret.

And then she looked away. The two of them stayed very still for another moment. Both of them seeming at a loss as to what to say.

Finally, she drew in a trembling breath, lifted her mug to her lips and drained the liquid that was left. She stood, walked by him, placed the mug in the sink and then walked towards the door of his bedroom. He remained seated, watching her as she moved around the room; no words coming to him. Any explanations or excuses he may have offered had died at the look she had given him.

She walked into the bedroom. Heard her voice soft; heard the ensuing murmuring of voices. And then Lily was coming out of the room, her arm around her son. She walked up to the couch as he stood, not meeting his eyes as she lifted her cloak and winter warms from the arm rest, quickly pulling them on.

Severus glanced in the direction of the little boy still standing at the bedroom door. Her son was leaning again the door pane, still looking half asleep; but he was peering at Severus with keen interest.

He looked back at Lily, as she pulled her second glove on.

He took a quick step towards her, a sudden desperation washing over him; "Lily."

She met his eyes immediately; and he was silenced by the look she gave him. The brightness was gone; she looked disappointed, and sad, and tired; as if his confession had sucked away all her energy and happiness.

But she spoke and he was grateful just to hear her voice, wondering if it was the last time he would; "Goodnight, Severus."

And then she turned, held out an arm to her son, and the boy went to her eagerly, though he still kept his eyes on the stranger before him. Lily wrapped a protective arm around him and pulled open the door to the room and left without another word or glance.

Severus kept his eyes on the door for a while after she left; his heart heavy; his stomach twisting sickeningly, as he replayed what had just happened over and over in his mind. Her silence, her disappointment; it was almost worse than what he had expected.

He had expected accusations, raised voices, perhaps even tears.

He had not expected what she had given him. And why had the silence felt so much worse? Why had the looks she had given him cut so deeply?

And then he realised there was an expression he hadn't seen when he had told her. And it was that which was affecting him more than any argument or accusation from her ever could.

When he had revealed he was once a Death Eater; she hadn't looked the slightest bit surprised.

* * *

Severus was in a foul mood the following day; and it didn't help that Malachi had awoken with a cough and a fever the following morning. The last thing he needed right now was to play nursemaid to a child; his bedside manner, questionable at all times, was particularly lacking that morning.

"Drink this," Severus thrust the phial of potion at the boy, who was lying weakly in his bed, back in his own room at their home in Newton's.

Malachi took it, eying the phial suspiciously, but seemed to sense his Godfather's mood and cautiously put it to his lips, taking a drink from it. He began coughing immediately, dropping the phial to the floor with a smash.

"Be careful, boy!" Severus snapped.

Malachi looked at him tearfully, as he quickly gasped in some air as his coughing subsided; "I...I'm sorry. It..." he began coughing again, but continued to try and force the words out; "It...wa...was...a...acci..."

"Shh," Severus shushed him, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and holding a glass of water to him; "An accident, I understand."

Malachi took the glass and quickly gulped down the soothing liquid; before he took some deep breaths in an attempt to regain control of his breathing.

Severus pressed a hand to the boy's forehead; "Your fever is subsiding. It will not be long until the potions begin to take effect."

Malachi pulled his covers up higher, watching Severus curiously as he gathered up the supplies; "Severus?" he said, his voice raspy.

Severus looked at him.

"I'm..." he coughed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean t...to make you mad yesterday."

Severus glowered, reminded of the previous day's escapades; "What you did was incredibly foolish, Malachi. Such things are not tolerated within this household; we shall discuss your punishment once you recover."

Malachi coughed again; "Is...is me being sick not enough punishment?"

Severus looked sharply at the boy, finding himself amused at boy's unusual audacity. He smirked; "Nice try."

Malachi's eyes flicked over his a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure if his godfather was truly amused, before he smiled and shrugged, before he coughed again.

Severus shook his head, pressing his hand back against the boy's forehead; "Your fever is almost gone. I shall give you another potion for your cough."

"They taste so horrible," Malachi stated and Severus glanced back at him, the comment a further indication that the boy was beginning to feel more comfortable expressing himself to him.

"I apologise. It is not safe to add any other ingredients to make them more appealing," Severus stated. At Malachi's dejected look, he summoned a jar of honey from the kitchen; "I suppose you can drink the potion and then have a small teaspoon of honey afterwards to ward off the after taste."

Malachi's eyes brightened at the suggestion and he nodded; "Okay."

Severus raised an eyebrow, though couldn't help a slight smile, despite his foul mood, at the boy's keen response. He uncorked the phial and handed it to the boy. Malachi drank it quickly, with a theatrical look of distaste, and then eagerly pounced towards the spoon of honey that Severus held towards his lips.

"Well well, what have we here?"

Severus turned to find Regulus strolling into the room. He looked both filthy and tired; but he had a wide smile on his face as he greeted them. It quickly fell away when he caught sight of Malachi; a look of concern replacing it; "What's up?"

"I'm sick," Malachi stated, before coughing again, though a little less violently than before.

Regulus pressed a hand to his forehead, looking at Severus with concern; "How long has he been ill?"

"He woke up like this," Severus stated, his tone clipped. It may not have been right for him to take out his irritation on a sick child; but Regulus was deserving of at least half the blame for his current mood; "He decided to traipse 100 miles across Britain yesterday in search of your imbecilic brother."

Regulus looked sharply at his son; "Wha...is this true?"

Malachi sunk deeper beneath the covers, looking guilty.

"Malachi...why?" Regulus shook his head; "You don't even know Sirius." He sat down on the bed next to him.

"Harry wanted to find him," Malachi said, weakly, by means of explanation.

"Ah yes," Severus piped in, "He was accompanied by Harry Potter. It took myself and his mother almost six hours to locate them."

"Where did you find them?" Regulus asked him, brushing the hair back from his son's forehead affectionately.

"Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Regulus turned to look at Severus sharply, before he looked back at his son, addressing him; "How did you get all the way to Hogwarts?"

Malachi shrugged; "A bus." He coughed again; this time much more improved than before.

"A bus? There are no buses that go to Hogwarts," Regulus stated, looking at him closely; "Tell me the truth, Malachi. Did someone take you?"

Malachi frowned, looking confused, and shook his head; "No. We did get the bus. And then we walked. And then we got the train. And then we walked. And then some big giant man found us."

Regulus glanced at Severus; Severus nodded; "Hagrid. They were in the Forbidden Forest."

"The For...Malachi!" Regulus burst out, turning his full attention back to his son; "Do you realise how _dangerous_ this was?"

He was repeating the same words Severus had already given the boy an earful of earlier; but he supposed a repeat of it would ensure the boy were to never forget it.

"You could have been killed!" Regulus went on; his words were far more frantic and insistent than his had been, a little less thought out; "There are so many animals in there; dangerous animals! Monsters! Werewolves! It's the full moon tonight! The Forbidden Forest, fuck!"

Malachi jerked his head back in shock at his father's swearing.

"Sorry," Regulus waved a hand in apology for his slip, before his tone hardened; "Malachi; you are grounded!"

"I'm sick."

"Yes! Yes; but when you get better you're grounded! And you'll be helping the house elves clean the pots and pans all afternoon. And...and...you'll be cleaning the floors and cutting the grass...and...no! No; you won't be cutting the grass. You don't get to go outside, not at all!"

"What about school?"

"Quiet! And you'll..." Regulus was glancing around the room, as if trying to find an object that would inspire further punishment. His eyes rested on Severus; "And you will help Severus clean up his cauldrons –"

"My cauldrons are clean," Severus interrupted, not at all keen to spend more time with the boy. Right now he wanted to go to his room and lock the door; not see anyone again for another month or so. Today had been the first time he had ever taken a personal day from work; Malachi's illness had actually come at an incredibly convenient time.

Severus gathered his things and left the room, as Regulus continued to rant at his son.

* * *

Lily sat at the kitchen table, staring at the full coffee cup in front of her, Severus' revelation weighing heavily on her mind as Harry clattered around behind her, doing their lunch dishes.

She hadn't been able to face him; hadn't known how to react to what he had said. She needed time to think about it; to comprehend what he had told her.

She had always suspected as much, that he had joined Voldemort; after all, she knew about Regulus. And, even at Hogwarts, she had expected that he would join them. That those he had spent his time with would draw him into it.

But to actually have the suspicion confirmed; to hear it from his own lips. It was almost too much. She felt almost betrayed. But what right did she have to feel betrayed? Their friendship had been severed prior to it; it was not a personal attack on her.

Just her kind, her mind seethed.

She swallowed, closing her eyes; how many muggleborns had he killed? How many Order members had he fought against? Her eyes shot open. Had he ever fought _her_? The Death Eaters had worn masks. She would never have known.

She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, her stomach churning sickeningly as she thought on it.

She quickly attempted to reassure herself; he had defected. He had realised what he had done was wrong. Had come to fight for their side at some point. After all, Dumbledore would not have hired him to work at the school, otherwise.

She hesitated; did Dumbledore know?

She quickly shook away the thought.

Of course he knew.

The defectors were used as spies, Lily remembered.

"I've finished the dishes," Harry stated, sulkily, standing in front of her.

"Very well. Time to mop the floor."

"Mum!" he groaned.

She shot him a stern glare and he sighed and stomped over to the cupboard where the mop and bucket was kept; "And any more of that attitude and you'll have an extra day of chores to do."

She could see Harry scowling, but he had the good sense to try to keep it concealed, as he dragged the items towards the kitchen sink.

Lily drew in a trembling breath, her mind drifting back to Severus once again.

Her mind was offering her excuses.

He had been honest when she had asked; that meant he must have changed. He wouldn't have confessed if he were still loyal to Voldemort. And the war had ended almost six years ago; that meant what he had done had ended six years ago at least. Most likely longer. Wasn't that a long enough time for the slate to be wiped clean? For it to be understood that he had made a mistake; that he was trying to make up for it.

She realised, suddenly, that this was most likely the reason behind he and Regulus Black creating the Foundation. An attempt to repent for what they had done.

She remembered what Severus had told her about Regulus the previous night; how he could barely live with himself; how the guilt and regret overwhelmed him. Did Severus feel the same? She was sure he must have; he spoke with such compassion, such understanding that she was certain the sentiments were shared.

There were so many questions. So many things his revelation had left her wondering.

But after the answer to the last question she had asked him, she was left wondering if she really wanted the answers.

She was left wondering whether or not she really wanted to know.


	17. March 1987: Pardon My Past

"Mum?"

Lily looked over her shoulder at her son, who stood tentatively at the door to her bedroom. She frowned at his reddened eyes, a tell tale sign of recent tears, and the anxious expression he was wielding. She lowered her hairbrush onto the vanity table, turning more fully in her seat to face him;

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry's lower lip trembled, as he remained standing by the door. With a tiny gasp, he blurted out; "Is Uncle Sirius dead?"

Lily felt her stomach lurch at the question; the unspoken question she had been too afraid to consider as Sirius' absence had stretched out. She swallowed away her own fears and held a hand out to her son. Harry hurried into the room, grasping her hand, keeping teary, questioning eyes on hers.

She drew him into a hug; "No, Sweetheart. Uncle Sirius isn't..." she hesitated, finding it almost impossible to get the word out; "He'll be back soon."

"Really?" Harry pulled back to look at her; but when he did she saw only doubt and suspicion, no trace of hope or belief that he would.

Lily brushed the hair back from his forehead; "Your Uncle Sirius wouldn't stay away unless there was a really good reason."

"Or because he can't come home. Maybe he's hurt."

She shook her head, attempting to reassure him; "If he was hurt someone would have told us. He would have been taken to hospital."

Harry sniffed, wiping at his eyes; "He's not gonna see me in the play tonight. He's never missed my school things before."

"I know," she murmured, rubbing his arm; "He'll be very sad when he finds out he missed it."

"He doesn't even know I've changed schools," Harry said, whimpering; "I miss him."

"I know you do," Lily pressed a kiss to his head; "I'm sure he misses you too."

Harry shuffled his feet, looking down at the ground; "Maybe I shouldn't do the play."

Lily tilted her head to the side; "You don't have to if you don't want to. But there's loads of other people who would like to see you tonight. I'm going and your Uncle Remus will be there."

Harry's eyes brightened slightly; "But...I thought you said Uncle Remus was sick?"

Lily nodded; "Yes. He wasn't feeling very well last night but he's a bit better now and he wants to come and see you."

Harry seemed to think on the new information for a moment before he drew in a breath, looking thoughtful; "Well, if you and Uncle Remus are watching...it won't be so bad that Uncle Sirius isn't there."

Lily smiled at his reasoning; "Well then, you have better get ready."

He didn't move; instead he looked at her attentively for a moment; "Is your friend gonna be there?"

She frowned at the question; "My friend? Julia?"

Harry shook his head; "No. The man; Malachi's godfather."

Lily started at Harry's mention of Severus and found herself uneasy as she was once again reminded of Severus' revelation to her, as well as the new information that Harry had somehow found out about their relationship and had done so in enough time to begin gathering information as to his identity.

"Um...yes," Lily nodded, deciding there was no point in lying to him. After all , he would probably recognise him if he were to see him; "But not with us. He works at the Foundation that your school is part of."

"I know," Harry nodded, sagely, "Malachi told me. His dad is in charge of your work and Severus is his friend."

Lily could only gape at him, astounded at the information he had managed to acquire; "Harry...how...who told you about Severus?"

Harry shrugged; "Malachi."

"But..." she cleared her throat, gathering her wits, "I mean, how did you learn that he and I are friends?"

"I saw you."

She frowned.

"At work," he elaborated, before he smiled widely; "You were smiling lots."

Lily cleared her throat, rubbing the palms of her hands on her legs, which were sweaty all of a sudden, and attempted to regain her composure; "Well...yes. Severus...Professor Snape, that is, to you, is an old friend of mine; he and I went to Hogwarts together."

"Ah," Harry nodded, with a look that was almost a mirror image of Sirius; "Dumbledore said he knew him too."

Lily frowned again, looking at the vanity in front of her, and reached for the hair brush again; "Sweetheart, if you have any questions about S...Professor Snape then you simply have to ask me. You don't need to go looking for answers from other people."

"Okay," Harry agreed with sudden eagerness, stepping into her vision with wide, excited eyes; "Is he nice?"

Lily glanced at him, briefly, finding herself disarmed by the fact that he had so keenly responded to her suggestion he stop asking others about Severus and took her statement as an invitation to begin questioning her. She cleared her throat; "Well...nice is not exactly how someone would describe him. But he is a kind man; when he wants to be."

"When he wants to be?" Harry repeated; "What do you mean? That he's only nice to people he likes?"

Not at all in the mood to start reflecting on Severus and his various characteristics, while his confession from a couple of nights ago was still weighing so heavily on her mind, she cast him a glance, stating; "Harry, there will be time for questions later. But, for now, you had better get ready or we're be late."

Harry paused with an expression that clearly demonstrated that he was considering whether or not to accept the postponement before he nodded and shrugged; "Okay. I'll go and get changed then."

He didn't wait for a response and ran from the room, leaving her with her thoughts regarding Severus, their friendship, the first Wizarding War and Death Eaters.

* * *

"I don't think my mum likes me asking questions about Professor Snape," Harry told Malachi, as they changed into their costumes behind the stage with a number of other boys who were in the same production; "She told me I could ask her about him, instead of other people, but then she sent me away."

Malachi pulled his t-shirt over his head; "You can ask my dad if you want."

Harry frowned; "But I don't know your dad."

"You didn't know Dumbledore and you still asked him. My dad and Severus are best friends; he knows lots about him."

Harry wasn't so sure; he didn't really know what he wanted to know about Professor Snape. There weren't really many questions; the only question he wanted the answer to was whether or not this man was someone his mum would want to marry. And, if he was, would he be a good dad?

It would be silly for him to try and encourage or make his mum think he actually _wanted_ that to happen, if he turned out to be a horrible dad. And he still wasn't sure about the whole thing, after Malachi had suggested that Professor Snape might not like his Uncle Sirius, as his dad didn't, and that really wouldn't be a good thing.

Harry peeked out the side of the curtain that concealed them, out into the crowd of people that were beginning to gather and seat themselves in the podiums. He caught sight of his mum easily; she was talking with people he didn't recognise, with his Uncle Remus at her side, looking pale and still sick, great big bags under his eyes, but he was still smiling at the person who was talking to him, nodding politely.

Professor Snape wasn't with them.

Harry wondered if his Uncle Remus knew him; if he liked him or not.

"Do you like him?" Harry asked Malachi, realising he had never asked him that, though he assumed he did because he always spoke of him like they were friends.

Malachi nodded, confirming his thoughts; "Uh huh. But he can be scary sometimes."

"Scary?" Harry frowned. That didn't sound good; "What do you mean? Why is he scary?"

Malachi shrugged; "Well, only if you do something really stupid. I don't think he likes stupid people; or when people do silly stuff. He was really angry when he found us."

Harry scowled, remembering his mum's reaction; "My mum made me do chores all day yesterday. She kept me off school and everything."

Malachi nodded; "Me too. But I was sick."

Harry looked over him appraisingly; "You don't look sick."

"Severus gave me some potions; they made me better really quickly," Malachi explained, before going on; "My dad came home and he's got a big list of things I had to do today and tomorrow."

"Cleaning?"

"Yep," Malachi nodded; "Cleaning _everything._ House elf work. But Ayra helps me when they're not looking; she's nice."

"Is everyone ready?" Miss Douglas' voice came from behind the other curtain. There were muttered responses of 'yes' from the boys before she stepped around it and smiled brightly; "Aww, don't you all look adorable."

Harry glanced over at Malachi doubtfully, neither of them impressed with the love heart costumes they had been dressed in.

Miss Douglas clapped her hands together; "Alright everyone, places!"

* * *

The children were dancing and singing on the stage; her son was among them, frequently glancing in her direction as he pranced around the stage, and she forced herself to focus and smile reassuringly whenever he did so. It was more difficult than it ought to be, staying focused; and the blame was placed entirely on the fact that Severus was sitting two rows ahead, just far enough to her left for her to see his face, as he watched the performance.

His interest seemed genuine but broken up, as he often glanced down, to the side; would occasionally lean to his left and mutter something in Regulus Black's ear which would make the other either laugh or look at him with such over-the-top disapproval that he was obviously amused by whatever he had said.

The children concluded their song and the stage cleared; Regulus leaned over, saying something close to Severus ear. Severus smiled for a second, as the other man continued speaking, before breaking into outright laughter as the other man did the same and she was struck by how close the two of them were. She remembered what Severus had said about the other man the night he had confessed; that Regulus could barely live with himself, knowing what he had done, and been, during the war.

She watched as Regulus Black smiled brightly, waving in the direction of the stage, where his son was peeking through the curtain. Watched as someone next to him said something to him, making him smile brightly; talk animatedly, his conduct full of ease and friendliness. Severus was right; he did conceal his remorse well. No one would think, just from looking at the man, that he was suffering any guilt for what he had done. He appeared carefree, relaxed and happy.

Even Severus looked content, as they sat speaking among those who surrounded them, with ease and familiarity. Looking at him now, it was almost mindboggling to imagine that he had once been a Death Eater; would the people who they worked with now even believe such an accusation, if someone were to make it? Had she not known him at Hogwarts, if she had only known him since she had started at the Foundation, since their friendship had been renewed, she would never have guessed, never have believed such a thing could be true.

While the typical cynicism, the snarky comments were still there, he was no longer the insecure, reclusive boy he had been when she had known him before. He had an openness about him now, not entirely welcoming but approachable to an extent, that he had never had before. He spoke easily with anyone who approached; he was respected and admired, even by those who didn't know his personally, and it was easy to see that he was content and self-assured, appearing to be respectful of others opinions but not necessarily needing their approval. And someone who devoted almost every spare minute of his time to serve the people who had been affected by the war; going so far that he would be willing to sit and watch children dance around on a stage in costumes while signing out of tune children's songs.

Definitely not someone who would be considered a likely candidate for a Death Eater.

It was almost astounding how much he had changed since she had known him.

At that moment Severus, mid-laugh, turned his head in her direction and caught her eye. She froze, finding herself unable to look away, as he too stilled, his smile and amusing fading somewhat, keeping his eyes on hers. After a few seconds, he nodded in her direction. She hesitated; then raised her hand very slightly in acknowledgement. She saw a slight, relieved smile twitch at his lips as she looked away, back in the direction of the stage.

* * *

Remus chuckled as Harry ran to him, arms wide, and flung himself into his arms. He swung him upwards and balanced him on his hip; "You were brilliant, Harry."

"Thanks," he grinned, widely. The little boy's eyes scanned around them expectantly; "Where's Mum?"

"She went to collect some notes on what she missed yesterday," Remus told him, his already weak muscles were beginning to strain so he set him back down on the floor with a dramatic groan; "Goodness, you're getting heavy. What've they been feeding you at this place?"

"Lots of stuff!" Harry announced with a wide grin; "Spaghetti; chicken; chilli; they give us desert every day too!"

"Wow," Remus widened his eyes and nodded to show his approval; "Sounds like you're doing well here."

"I miss you and Uncle Sirius though," Harry told him, his shoulders slumping slightly; "I don't see you very much anymore."

Remus felt a pang of guilt at the accusation, as he was reminded of the lack of time he had been spending with the boy over the past few months. Following the embarrassing incident with Lily, he had found himself distancing himself from her and Harry somewhat, despite the fact that they had smoothed things over without much fuss.

He put his arm around him, grasping his shoulder as they made their way down the corridor; "I'm sorry about that. I can come and get you more after classes; what do you say?"

Harry nodded, smiling up at him brightly, reminding Remus there _were_ happier moments in his life worth living for; "Okay. Can we go ice skating again?"

"We can do whatever you want to do," Remus promised, squeezing his shoulder, eliciting a wider smile from the boy.

"Uncle Remus?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know Severus Snape?"

Remus glanced down at him with a frown; "Snape? Uh...yeah. Yes; I knew him a long time ago. He was at Hogwarts at the same time as me and your mum."

Harry nodded; "Yeah." He looked up at him, his eyes full of curiosity; "Do you like him?"

Remus paused in his footsteps, leading Harry to do the same. He looked down at Harry confused but not entirely baffled at the question; a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him of his role in the Foundation, of finding Lily with him a few months ago at one of the functions. And he hadn't missed the glance the two of them had shared across the room, only twenty minutes ago or so.

Remus glanced around the corridor, which was now almost empty, and then drew Harry over to one of the benches, taking a seat. Harry clambered up to sit down next to him.

"Why do you ask?"

Harry frowned; "Why aren't you answering?"

Remus smiled slightly at his retort, "Well...Severus Snape and I knew one another at school but we were not friends. We were in different Houses. That was a long time ago though; I haven't seen him in years."

Harry eyed him for a moment, not seeming satisfied with the response, before he went on to declare; "Mum's friends with him."

Remus hesitated, careful of what he was saying; "Your mum was friends with him at school."

"Is he nice?"

Remus almost laughed; but he supposed Lily may see a different side to him. In fact, he was quite certain of it. After all, Remus had never been in a position to ever see the nice side of Severus Snape; and, after he'd almost eaten him in monster form, he was certain the chances of him ever seeing it were slim to none.

Nonetheless, it wasn't his place to taint the boy's view of him; "That's something you'll have to decide on your own."

Harry frowned; "Huh?"

"Harry," Remus paused. It wasn't his place to ask; but he couldn't help wondering. And he couldn't help but feel slightly concerned; "Your mum and Professor Snape...do they spend a lot of time together?"

Harry shrugged immediately; "I dunno. I only saw them once. Well...two times."

Remus faltered, tilting his head at Harry; "Did...have they ever appeared...close?"

"Close?"

"Do they appear to...enjoy each other's company?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded with certainty; "Mum looked really happy when I saw her with him."

"I see."

"Did Uncle Sirius know him? Malachi told me his dad and Uncle Sirius don't like each other," Harry went on, enquiringly; "Do him and Professor Snape not like each other either?"

"I don't know," Remus lied, adding before he had the chance to fully comprehend what he was saying; "You'd have to ask your Uncle Sirius." He closed his eyes at the foolish suggestion and found himself glad that Sirius was still missing; he hoped Harry would have forgotten, or got the answer to the question by some other means, before the other man returned.

"So...you don't like him?" Harry eyed him, carefully.

"It's not that I don't like him, Harry. I just don't know him well enough to have a proper opinion on him, that's all," Remus explained; though he found himself uneasy and concerned that Lily's relationship was close enough with him that Harry was beginning to ask questions. While there was no actual proof, he had agreed with Sirius inwardly when he had stated that Severus Snape had been a Death Eater. Even if he hadn't been, he had been sympathetic towards those who were when they were at Hogwarts; and his friendship with Regulus Black went way back to during the war, when the other man _had_ been one.

Reminding himself it was none of his business and that, most likely, he wouldn't have to make any protest anyway once Sirius found out what was going on; he forced the issue to the back of his mind, deciding to take whatever happened as it came.

* * *

Severus peered into the almost empty room that was occupied only by Lily, who was flicking through some parchments at the front desk. He had noticed her head that way following the Phoenix's production and, without really thinking through what he was doing or what he would say, he had excused himself from his company and followed, intending to speak with her once again. If the look she had given him during the play was anything to go by, he guessed that she would be open to communication.

However, once he had finally reached the room and found himself with the opportunity to address her, he had frozen, his mind completely wiped of what he ought to say or how he ought to approach her. Her reaction when he had confessed his past to her had not been forth coming; had revealed very little about the way she would react if she were pushed to talk about it.

But her silence had been torture and he hadn't stopped going over it in his mind since it had happened; the silence and the looks she had given him. It hadn't been clear how things stood between them following it; was this a simply bump, one they would be able to recover from with time? Or was that the end of their friendship and she hadn't felt the need to explain that, the crime was so bad?

He had thought, be terrified, that it was the latter; that he had lost her. But the way she had looked at him that night, less than an hour before now; that had not been a look of contempt, of hopelessness. There was a chance; and there may only be a small window for him to make his excuses; his explanations.

And yet he had none. His entire friendship with her rested on him being able to explain, to make her understand; and he could muster up no reason, no justification for what he had done. And so he stood there, frozen, and could only watch her, his hopes fading away to wherever his logical thought had decided to vacate to.

He had had his eyes on her for some time before she sensed she was being watched; and when she did, she glanced in his direction, doing a double take when she realised that it was him. Her hands, which had still been gathering up the parchments, froze and she held his look for a second.

After a moment, she lowered her hands, still clutching the documents; "Severus."

Her voice was strangely neutral; revealing neither happiness nor displeasure at seeing him. He swallowed, nervously, before he stepped into the room; "Lily." And that was all that was said, as they continued to look at one another.

After some time she drew in a breath, averting her eyes; and it was that indication that the window was quickly closing that spurred him into actions. He pushed the door closed, and stepped towards her, and he realised that the window had well and truly slammed shut by the look of alarm on Lily's face at his actions.

"Sever-"

He held up a hand; "Please. Just...just...Let me explain."

Lily looked hesitantly at him for a moment, not saying anything.

"I...I know what I did was wrong."

Lily glanced away, then back at him, as if that were obvious. And it _was_ obvious and he felt his nervousness increasing.

"I...if I could do it again...if I had another chance; you have to know that I would never have chosen the same path."

"Severus," she sighed, shaking her head; "I...look I know, okay? I do."

Severus felt that tiny flame of hope spark again.

"I...I just need some time," she said, quietly, her tone almost entreating.

Severus looked more closely at her, surprised by the pleading in her voice and, he realised, as he did so that her eyes were regretful and sad; but there was a small ray of hope in them as well. And he realised at that moment that she _wanted_ to forgive him; that she didn't want this relationship to end either. And he felt his heart leap at the thought; that there was still a chance to save them.

But the satisfaction, the delight he felt was fleeting; because he realised that, while she may forgive him for what he had done, there was still so much she didn't know. Things that she _had_ to know. Because he couldn't let her go away, give her time to reflect on the simple fact that he had been a Death Eater, only to learn later on his role in the prophecy. An act committed which had directly affected her.

When he came back to his senses he realised she was gathering her things, preparing to leave. He reach out a hand to touch her, partly to stop her, partly because he was worried he'd never have the chance to do so again. She stopped in her movements, not flinching or pulling away at his touch, so he let his hand stay on her hand as he spoke;

"Lily...there is something else. Something else you need to know."

Lily looked at him with an expression so anxious and full of dread that he hated himself for putting her through it; for even making her worry for a second over what he was about to tell her.

She swallowed, her eyes flickering over his face apprehensively.

He took a deep breath, then went on; "It regards the prophecy."

He was met with a blank expression; her complete lack of reaction surprising him. He forced himself to go on, not allowing himself to be distracted from it, now that he had began to speak the truth; "Lily...it was me. I was the Death Eater who revealed the prophecy to the Dark Lord."

Lily was staring at him with a look of complete bewilderment; not at all seeming to comprehend the information he had just revealed to her. He frowned. And she did too;

"Prophecy?"

And suddenly Severus felt his stomach drop; felt the ground fall away beneath his feet as he realised, with absolute horror and astonishment that she had no idea what he was talking about; that she had never learned about the prophecy. The hand that was on her arm dropped to his side.

And, just as suddenly, he hated Dumbledore for not telling him. And then, he was just baffled; because how on Earth had the old man managed to convince the Potters and the Longbottoms to go into hiding for over a year without revealing the reason?

"How could you not know?" Severus voiced his thoughts, quietly, earning a further puzzled frown from the woman before him.

She straightened, a mixture of interest and concern; "What don't I know, Severus?"

His shirt collar felt too tight and he became abruptly aware of the heat within the room. He reached up tugging it; wishing the ground would swallow him up, wishing someone would burst into the room and interrupt them. While only minutes ago he had been willing to accept full responsibility for delivering the prophecy; to actually have to reveal the contents of it to her, the mother of the child in question...

"Severus?" she sounded impatient now, raised an eyebrow; "What prophecy?"

He drew in a breath; "I..." he cleared his throat; "It...it was revealed in February, before your son was born..."

Lily's reaction was immediate; she started at the mention of her son but kept quietly, listening intently.

"This...this prophecy...it stated there was a child to be born; and that this child would have the power to defeat the Dark Lord."

Lily appeared to be frozen for a moment, before she raised her chin, almost defiantly, as if waiting for him to elaborate. But he knew she had already figured it out; and that she knew he knew that. But he went on anyway;

"The child was to be born at the end of July. For a while, your son was considered to be a likely candidate."

Lily's jaw set; "Are...are you telling me that he was after my son?"

Severus quickly shook his head; "No...I mean, yes...that is what we thought, but –"

"But? There's a _but_?" her tone was cold, clipped and icily furious.

"He just wanted us to think that," Severus explained, quickly; "He is not after your son. He chose another."

"What do you mean he _chose_ another?" she asked, snappily; "We were in hiding for over a year. The whole time he was after my son?"

"The Dark Lord learned there was a spy; he gave false information regarding who he was truly targeting. He was after Neville Longbottom," Severus stated, making Lily start, as though she hadn't quite yet followed the information through to its conclusion and her expression was clouded with sadness and realisation for a moment, as she remembered her old friends who had died the night the war ended.

She drew in a deep breath, trembling slightly as she did so; "Why did he not decide to come after them both? If this...this _prophecy_ is true; he cannot just decide himself who it refers to."

"Apparently he can," Severus explained; "I do not understand why. I do not know the whole of the prophecy; only Dumbledore knows. It is he who has stated who it refers to. Although...the Dark Lord learned your location the night of the Longbottoms' deaths." The implication was there; the Dark Lord _had_ intended to go after them both. Neville Longbottom was simply considered the more important of the two.

Lily expression hardened at Dumbledore's name being mentioned. She went quiet and turned away from him with a shake of the head, as she attempted to make sense of what he had just told her. She raised her hands to her face, her breathing shaky as a silence fell over them.

He stepped towards her; "Lily, Dumbledore is certain it does not concern your son; as is the Dark Lord. Your son...he is not in danger."

She glanced at him with a frown; "Voldemort is dead." He flinched at the name, looking away, and she frowned; "Isn't he?"

He forced himself to look back at her and nodded. It wasn't really a lie, after all.

"How can Dumbledore be sure of all this?" Lily asked, uncertainly; "How did he know...why did he think he was targeting us?"

Severus swallowed; "Because I told him."

Her eyes flew to his. He held her look; watched as realisation dawned over her. As she realised the reason he had turned to Dumbledore; the reason he had become the old man's spy.

"Oh," she whispered. And then she lowered her eyes.

After a tense moment, when he was left wondering what this new confession would mean to them, if there was still a chance she could forgive him, she took a step back, looking troubled. He frowned, reaching to touch her arm again. As he did so she directed a questioning, distressed glance at him;

"You all knew? All...the Death Eaters?"

Severus frowned at the direction she was taking. He nodded slightly; "Yes."

"That he was after Harry? That he was after my son, you _all_ knew?" she repeated, wanting further elaboration.

"Yes," he affirmed; "We were given...permission to dispose of yourself and your husband..." he hesitated, but she did not appear desirous of protesting, so he went on; "should we come across you. But the child...he was to be left for the Dark Lord."

Lily looked both horrified and disgusted by the information, pushing on, her voice quiet, tentative; "So...Peter knew?"

Severus blinked.

"Peter...he...he _knew_ they were after Harry? He...he gave us up...he..." she stopped, her breathing even shakier than before, as she shook her head, whispering; "Oh my God."

Severus had no idea what to say to offer any sort of reassurance; no doubt Pettigrew _had_ known that Harry was the target. Regardless if he knew or not, the very fact that he had revealed the Potters location, that he put Lily in danger, meant he had no wish whatsoever to defend the man against Lily's fury.

She pushed past him; "I have to go."

And, before he could react, she had left, leaving him standing there just as baffled by her reaction to the news as he had been the evening he had revealed his role as a Death Eater.

* * *

March.

The commencement of Spring.

A time of new beginnings. A symbol of renewal of life and hope for the future.

Severus was not feeling so hopeful, particularly when it came to questions regarding the future. The Dark Mark was almost completely visible now, which could only mean that the Dark Lord's return was imminent and he found himself having dreams in the night of it burning for the first time and of facing him with his excuses and explanations for denying his allegiance; for working with Dumbledore; for assisting with the development of a Foundation created to repair the damage the man had caused.

Dark times indeed; at least they would be soon. And the people who surrounded him; the people he saw every day, they had no idea.

They would complain about the most frivolous issues; forty five hour working weeks; not being granted release to attend a party; a rude comment by someone in the Counselling Department; fish and chips for lunch on a Wednesday when the schedule states it ought to be roast beef.

Severus was scowling as he slammed the door to his office open and strode inside, closing it immediately behind himself to make it apparent that he was not desirous of visitors.

He dumped down the books and parchments he was holding onto his desk; Project Orion would conclude within the next week or two. And then Dumbledore would finally reveal his 'big plan', the big secret weapon he planned to use against the Dark Lord when he returned. All that was left to do was to convince old Augusta Longbottom to allow the two men access to her grandson's mind; apparently Dumbledore was having some trouble in that regard.

In less than two weeks, he would return to Project Dorado; he would be working with Lily again. He wasn't certain if that was a good thing or a bad thing, judging by the long, stony silence that had settled between them. Gone was the daily lunches in the Bistro; she had not come the first day, and he had been delayed at Hogwarts the next and, so, they had dwindled away without discussion and he had seen her only twice since he had revealed the details of the prophecy to her over three weeks ago; passing ships in the corridors.

The first time she hadn't appeared to see him; the second he caught her reflection in one of the side windows, looking at him searchingly, sadly. But when he had turned in her direction she glanced away, as if she had not noticed him.

Severus despised Dumbledore for not warning him; for not telling him something so crucial.

"Severus," the door to his office burst open and the only person who would be so bold as to enter without an invitation walked into the room, looking unimpressed.

"What is it?" Severus eyed Regulus warily.

Regulus pushed the door shut and made his way towards him; "Apparently I should be asking you the same question." He raised an eyebrow.

Severus glowered at him, turning his attention to the parchments in front of him.

"Sev?" Regulus' tone was softer now; sounding more concerned, making Severus closed his eyes, aware the other man would not be shaken once he had released something was truly wrong.

Regulus sat down in the chair opposite him and the two were silent; one waiting for the other to speak, the other praying that the other would just get up and leave.

After a few minutes, Regulus finally spoke up; "Does this have something to do with Mrs Potter?"

"What?" Severus snapped, turning irritated eyes on the man before him.

"Well, I've noticed the two of you haven't been spending much time together anymore," Regulus stated, with faux-nonchalance, before asking; "Did something happen?"

"It is none of your business, Regulus."

"It's my business when half my staff are terrified to leave their offices in case they come across you," Regulus countered; "You think people haven't noticed?"

"My behaviour has nothing to do with Lily Potter," Severus retorted, his tone clipped; "As you are aware, there are more important issues I have to be concerned with right now. Issues far more grave; the subject of which is hardly likely to evoke the buoyant, joyful Severus you are all so accustomed to."

Regulus fought a smirk at his response.

"Project Orion will be wrapped up by the end of next week," Severus stated, abruptly deciding that it would only take one week, not two, for him to conclude the research; "Testing shall commence under Eugene's supervision the following week."

"Fine; just get it over with. Dumbledore's been on my case about that for weeks," Regulus replied, dismissively; "But really, Severus; Malachi is concerned about you."

"Malachi?" Severus looked at him sharply; "What does the boy have to do with anything?"

Regulus shrugged; "Well, he lives with us. He's noticed your moods."

"Obviously all the time he has been spending with Remus Lupin has increased his sensitivity levels."

"And who was the one who gave first permission for him to spend time with him?" Regulus pointed out; "Perhaps the next time I leave him in your care I should include instructions stating I won't be pleased to find out my son has been associating with werewolves and gallivanting around the Forbidden Forest with centaurs, acromantulas and thestrals."

Severus glowered at him; "As if there will be a next time, Regulus," he retorted, scathingly.

"And apparently Harry Potter has been mentioning that his mother has also been quite out of sorts recently."

Severus was torn between encouraging Regulus to reveal more about Lily's current state of mind and denying any interest, any connection between the two changes in moods.

He glanced at Regulus, contemplating whether or not to share what had happened. He didn't know what it was about her; what it was that made him so protective of the relationship, of his feelings towards her; so secretive about what went on between them.

He had never had a problem with confiding in Regulus about things before; issues far more substantial than a relationship tiff – or severance, as the case may be.

And, after weeks of stewing silently over what had occurred, he found himself in need of 'an ear', so to speak, to vent his frustrations; "Lily is aware of what I was during the war."

Regulus was still; barely acknowledging the statement for a moment. After a few seconds he drew in a breath; "How did she find out?"

"I told her."

Regulus tilted his head to the side, looking at him curiously; "Why?"

Severus only stared back at him; they both knew very well why. Why he wanted her to know; why he needed her to know. And why he needed her to forgive him for it.

"So...she..." Regulus paused; "I guess she didn't take it well?"

"She took it better than I expected," Severus revealed; "I dare say she may have even forgiven me for it, if given the time."

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

Severus nodded; "I thought it only right she should know any actions that I undertook during the war that affected her directly."

Regulus looked hesitant and thoughtful, before realisation dawned over him; "You told her about the prophecy?"

"Yes. I told her about giving it to the Dark Lord," he stated; "And she had absolutely no idea what I was referring to."

Regulus frowned; "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Severus went on, sounding irritated, though it was irritation at Dumbledore and not the man before him that it was directed towards; "That Dumbledore never revealed the true reason the Dark Lord was hunting the Potters to them; she had no idea her son was in danger."

Regulus looked only mildly surprised at the revelation; mostly he just looked sympathetic; "Well, you know how Dumbledore can be. He only reveals what he thinks is necessary."

"The least he could have done would have been to warn me she was unaware of it," Severus responded, snappily; "There was no reason for me to reveal my role at all, had Dumbledore not revealed the prophecy to her."

"There was no reason for you to tell her in the first place, anyway," Regulus stated, sounding both baffled and amused; "Why did you? You must've known how she'd take it."

"Spare me your judgements, Regulus," Severus glared at him; "I thought honesty was the best course to take, considering..." he trailed off. Regulus regarded him with curiosity and amusement; and Severus felt himself grow flustered and hot under the collar.

Regulus still looked amused, but there was sympathy there also; "Look...obviously she wouldn't take it well," he stated; "But hiding away, stewing and cursing at the world, you really think that's going to help? You should talk to her."

"She asked for time."

"And you've given it, no doubt," Regulus countered, "Like I said, her son has noticed a change in her behaviour also. She cares about you."

"She is hurt; obviously she would react as such. That does not mean that she has any strong feelings towards me," Severus dismissed Regulus suggestion.

Regulus grinned; "Come on, Sev. You can't honestly think there aren't feelings there?"

"She still harbours feelings for Potter."

"Obviously; but that doesn't mean she isn't ready for something else," Regulus said, his tone coaxing, and Severus glanced at him; "I mean, it's pretty obvious you'd be more than willing to step into that role."

"Shut up, Regulus," Severus snapped, suddenly feeling defensive.

Regulus rolled his eyes; "Oh calm down, Prickles. It's just you and me here."

"Besides, it is not my relationship with Mrs Potter than is concerning me," Severus not quite lied; "The Dark Mark continues to grow darker; there is no mistaking it now."

Regulus' playful attitude appeared to be stripped away by the reminder, as he glanced down at his own arm, his hand unconsciously come up to touch the fabric that concealed the area of the Mark.

"Therefore it would be unwise for me to even consider such a venture."

"A venture?" Regulus repeated, before his eyes gleamed, his previous concern gone as quickly as it had come; "Severus, it's just a relationship."

Severus eyed him; he knew all about relationships. They certainly weren't to be considered as flippantly as Regulus appeared to be suggesting.

"Regardless," Severus responded, his tone making it clear the issue would be discussed no further; "Even if I were to be interested in such a thing; it is hardly a sentiment that is shared, considering the current state of affairs."

Regulus held his look for a moment before he raised an eyebrow; "I just don't think you'd be able to get over it."

"Get over what?" Severus frowned.

"Letting her walk away," Regulus elaborated, before he went on; "You didn't last time, after all."

And it was a statement that Severus could neither refute nor dismiss.

* * *

Lily had postponed the blind date Julia had scheduled for her twice.

Following the revelations regarding Severus and Peter and a prophecy that apparently could carry a death sentence for her son, she was in no mood to step back into the world of dating; her own world tremulous enough without adding to it with the chaos that often came with dating and potential relationships.

She already had enough trouble with the current men in her life; why add another into the mix?

However, after the second rescheduling of the event, Julia had interfered once again and insisted that she ought to take her mind off of the thoughts currently plaguing her. Particularly hateful, murderous thoughts regarding Peter and distress and confusion regarding Severus.

For the first time since Sirius disappeared, she found herself wishing that he found him; found him and made him suffer for it. The only regret she had regarding it was that Sirius hadn't had the chance to learn the new information prior to his departure.

And then she felt guilty and ashamed that she was even capable of having such thoughts; of wishing that anyone should suffer in the ways she was imagining.

So she pushed them away as she stepped into the busy, bustling restaurant and stated her name as she was approached by the host to seat her. The man nodded, stated that the other in her party had not yet arrived, and would she like to wait at the table or the bar.

"The table."

The bar would be far too tempting in her current state of mind.

Wary about her thoughts regarding Peter, she found them directed towards the other person who had plagued her thoughts over the past few weeks; thoughts and feelings much less clear and far more confusing for her to make sense of.

In the space of three days she had learned the answers to every question she had been asking herself regarding her old friend since they had become reacquainted; questions she had wondered since long before that, if she were honest with herself.

He had been a Death Eater. He had joined Voldemort, just as she had predicted and accused him off when they had been at Hogwarts. Every guilty glance; every time he adverted his eyes; shifted uncomfortably when she would mention the past or the war or their friendship suddenly made sense. And why hadn't she realised it? She had suspected it after all; deep down had know the truth. Why had she pushed aside the clues; acted so blindly?

And then there was the other piece of information; he had come back. He had returned, long before the war had ended, if what he had implied were true. He was the spy who had warned Dumbledore that Voldemort was targeting them; her family and the Longbottoms. She still remembered everything about that day, the day Dumbledore had told them they had to go into hiding; 5th September 1980.

That meant Severus had defected over a year before the war had ended. Had been fighting on their side, risking discovery for so long.

"Lily?"

She glanced up, meeting the eyes of Rodger Wyatt; the man whom she was to spend the evening with. She forced a smile and stood; "Rodger; hi."

"Hi," he smiled, widely. He leaned towards her, as if to kiss her cheek, and then hesitated and the two of them stood awkwardly for a second, before he decided to go with it and gave her a quick, wet kiss on the cheek, before he plonked down on his chair.

Lily bit her bottom lip as she lowered herself into her own seat.

"I would have come to pick you up," Rodger said, speaking quickly.

"Oh," Lily lifted a hand, with a smile; "Really, it's fine. I try to settle my son down around eight, so it's much better that we met here."

"Oh. Oh, okay," he nodded; then, to Lily's astonishment, clicked a finger at the nearest waitress.

Lily watched as the woman glared at him with obvious irritation but still approached at the summons; she forced a small, sickly sweet smile, one that said they ought not to trust any food that would be brought to them from now on, as it would most likely contain this woman's saliva; "Yes, Sir?"

"Can we have some menus? My partner has been waiting here a while."

Lily felt herself redden as the waitress cast a glance in her direction, and gave her an apologetic smile, forcing herself not to quickly deny that she was this man's 'partner', or this man's anything, and found herself wishing she had outright refused Julia's offer of a set up and was at home, sipping tea and brooding over her current woes.

"I heard you got a place on the Aurelius Fellowship," Rodger said, enquiringly.

Lily met his eyes and nodded; "Yes. It's been very interesting."

"Really prestigious position," Rodger went on, with a knowing tone; "I'm surprised you managed to get in without an internship to back you."

Lily was at a loss as to what to say in response; she hadn't had her qualifications questioned by anyone since she had been offered the place, with the exception of Sirius and Severus, and she found it far more inappropriate that this man had done so, when she hadn't been quite so offended when the other two had offered the same objections.

She forced another smile, wondering if they were coming as smiles rather than grimaces at this point, and shrugged; "Just lucky, I suppose."

"Must be."

Lily thanked the waitress as two menus were handed to them.

"Can I get you something to drink?" the young woman asked.

Lily glanced longingly at the spirits behind the bar; then, forcing self-control, said; "The house red, please."

"Make that a bottle," Rodger added; "And some water for the table." As the waitress left he turned to Lily with a grin; "After all, the table gets thirsty as well sometimes."

Lily blinked.

"Joke!" he barked, as if shouting fire.

She chuckled, closing her eyes as she did so; and he seemed pleased that she appeared to find the joke funny, completely oblivious at to the true reasons for her amusement.

Rodger went on to speak of his own work; the internship he had been placed with following their apprenticeship and Lily felt her mind wander, as his statements varied between dry explanation and frequent insertions of self-important statements that made it clear that this would be the first and only outing these two would ever share.

She wondered what Severus would think of this man; of the conclusions he was drawing from the research he was describing. While Lily, herself, wasn't quite able to be certain of them, she was sure that Severus would know very well what he was talking about and quickly be able to analyse the findings.

Lily was also certain that such a dry topic was not something he would discuss over dinner, if his conversation during their lunches was anything to go by.

And then her mind wandered further, as she imagined how Severus would act if he were here with her. She was sure he wouldn't act as this man did; so self-important and presumptuous and, in Severus case, such an attitude would be understandable – though just as contemptible. No; Severus would not act this way. From what she had seen, he appeared aware of his own abilities but remained relatively humble; he did not flaunt his own success and intelligence in other people's faces.

If she had been here with him, she imagined it would all feel relatively normal; just like the Bistro, only a different location. Relaxed; friendly. Definitely more interesting and enjoyable; and, suddenly, she found herself missing their lunches.

She disinterestedly placed her order, ignoring Rodger's derogatory opinion offered on her choice, and eagerly lifted the wine placed on the table in front of her, taking a long drink and draining half the glass.

"Julia didn't tell me you had a drinking problem," Rodger said, jokingly, with another grin and this time she found herself becoming irritated. The man before her seemed to alter between a self-important, pompous manner and a comical, joking buffoon; neither of which she found particularly attractive and she wondered what Julia had been thinking setting her up with this man.

It appeared her friend had focused in on James' least appealing qualities from Hogwarts, his arrogance and his immaturity, and had found a man who had blown them to such extremes that even her husband would find him infuriating.

"Does your Fellowship conclude this year?"

Lily glanced up at his question, then shook his head; "No. It's a two year placement."

"Oh, so you'll still be there when the new intake come in this autumn?" Rodger's eyes brightened; "Perhaps you could put in a good word for me? Severus Snape works there; I've heard if you want to get anywhere an endorsement from Professor Snape can make anything possible."

Lily smiled, genuine this time, at the mention of him; "Yes. He is very well respected within the Foundation."

"Do you know him?"

Lily hesitated and then nodded; "Yes."

"Really?" Rodger suddenly appeared more interested; "Do you think you could arrange an interview with him for me?"

Lily met his eyes, uncertainly; "Um...I don't know. He and I are working on separate projects," then she added, for more credibility; "And I am hardly of high enough standing within the company to make requests of him."

Rodger looked disappointed, glancing down, before muttering thoughtfully; "Yes; I suppose you wouldn't be."

Lily glared at him over her almost-empty wine glass, draining it and reaching to pour herself another, ignoring his offer to do it for her. She suddenly wished she had agreed to his request; she would rather enjoy being a fly on the wall during a meeting between this man and Severus.

Of course what she had said was true, though not for the reasons she had given. She was hardly in a position to make any request of Severus right now, even if she was fairly certain that he would consent if she asked. She felt a tightening in her stomach, again reminded of the strain between them and how much she missed his company.

Her mind made excuses for him; excuses and reasons came after every accusatory thought. He was a Death Eater; but he defected. He gave up the prophecy; but he revealed it to Dumbledore.

Had he not turned to Dumbledore, what chance would they have had? If he hadn't warned them, if Regulus Black had not yet defected, hadn't been trusted by Voldemort at the time, then they would have been defenceless. And he would have come after them, killed them all with little resistance; they wouldn't have stood a chance.

As she drained her second glass of wine, pouring herself another, she found herself wishing Severus _was_ here with her. That it was all behind them; that they were friends again. That all those things didn't matter.

Did they matter?

They did, of course; but what else could she ask of him?

He had come back; he had righted the wrong committed and he had saved them, had saved her son, from Voldemort. For months, for over a year, he had risked his own safety, his own life, to bring them information to protect them.

And then, once he had gone, he had stayed on that path. Had carried on working for Dumbledore; had thrown himself into the construction of the Foundation. He spent every day trying to right the wrongs he may have committed, in service to those who had suffered, and, if what he had said regarding Regulus Black were to be taking literally, he spent every day feeling guilty, remorseful for it.

Was there even anything else he could do, could give, to atone for what he had done?

And, despite all that, he had confessed the truth to her; had not hidden it from her. He had trusted her with the information he had given; dangerous, life-threatening information, if the situation with Regulus was to be considered.

She had no right to ask any more from him than he had already given.

She shifted anxiously, impatiently and restlessly, wanting to go to him immediately and rectify what had happened between them. Try to salvage the remains of their relationship, before it was too late.

And it had taken her so long to decide it, that she was left apprehensively worrying if _he_ would forgive _her_.

* * *

Severus felt incredibly foolish. He felt like a child again; in fact, he felt like his sixteen year old self hanging around the street of Lily's house the summer after he'd called her a 'mudblood', when he had frequently walked up and down the path in front of her home, hoping she would either notice and come out or that they would just accidently bump into one another.

He remembered with embarrassment Mrs Evans coming out one of those days and offering him a sandwich and some orange juice, before gently telling him that Lily was staying at a friend's that week.

And now, here he was, eleven years later, doing almost exactly the same thing. Although he was not walking up and down past her house, he was lurking around the gate, attempting to decide whether or not to knock on the door.

It was almost the behaviour of a stalker, he mused; after all, the only reason he even knew her address was because he had found it earlier that evening checking through the employee records – not illegal, as a shareholder and business partner, but not quite ethical either and it was something he had never felt the urge to do before.

But Regulus' comment had struck a chord with him; he couldn't just let her walk away. He had let it happen before; had regretted it every day since.

This time, he would fight for it, for their friendship. He wasn't going to lose it, not if there was a chance she could forgive him.

"You really didn't have to walk me home."

Severus glanced up sharply as Lily's voice was carried to him on the wind.

"It was no trouble; only right under the circum -" The man paused in his words, as he turned his head, meeting Severus' eyes.

Lily, who had been rummaging in her handbag, glanced up at the silence at the man next to her, then in the direction he was looking. She froze in her footsteps, staring dumbly at him; "Severus."

Severus, ignoring the incredible awkwardness in the air, nodded in acknowledgment; "Lily. I apologise I...didn't realise you had company."

"Oh," Lily glanced at the man next to her and shook her head; "No. No...we've just...Rodger was just bringing me home...Sorry, Rodger Wyatt, Severus Snape," she was almost stuttering and Severus thought he could smell alcohol on her breath, even from the few feet distance they were standing apart.

The man smiled widely, stepping towards him, with his hand held out; "Professor Snape; I'm very pleased to meet you."

Severus took his hand, eying him slightly, the sentiment not at all shared. He had not known that Lily was entertaining male company, so to speak, and wondered at the man before him. He nodded; "Pleasure."

"Thank you for walking me home, Rodger," Lily spoke up at his side, before she nodded at the house; "This is me." Her tone obviously indicated a dismissal and Severus couldn't help but feel pleased that she had had to indicate to the house, implying that this man had never seen it and, therefore, had likely never been in.

Not that _he_ had. But he was comforted to know that this man hadn't either.

"Oh. Would you like me to wait inside?"

Severus looked at Lily curiously; noticed the stunned, offended expression in her eyes and fought a smirk.

"No. Thank you."

"Really, I don't mind waiting."

"My son is inside."

"That's okay, I -"

"You heard her," Severus found himself speaking up, coolly. Both Lily and the man next to her looked at him sharply at the tone.

After a moment, Rodger nodded slightly, before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lily's cheek, making jealousy and irritation swell up within him suddenly and forcefully. He fought back a scowl as the other man took his leave.

And then the two of them were alone; both of them silent, the atmosphere awkward.

Lily drew in a breath; "I...have you been waiting long?"

Severus glanced at her, shook his head; "No," he lied, for he had been there for almost an hour trying to decide whether or not to knock; "I...I was uncertain whether or not to knock. I did not wish to disturb your son."

Lily glanced at the house, a slight furrow of her brow; "Oh. No...You wouldn't have. He's with Remus; he's not home."

Severus frowned, glancing at the house, then in the direction the other man had left; realised she had lied to get rid of him. He felt a happy sort of satisfaction settle about within him, that she had obviously had a bad date; then scolded himself inwardly for wishing that upon her. He knew well enough how awful dating could be.

Lily was staring at him, drinking him in, her eyes flicking over him with an expression of curiosity and confusion. Severus forced himself to focus on why he had come and took a step closer to her; "Lily I...I am sorry to invade your privacy this way. I understand it is inappropriate of me to disturb you at home."

Her eyes flicked between his before she shook her head; "It's okay."

"Is it?"

She frowned.

He could definitely smell the alcohol on her breath, as she openly regarded him. She still appeared confused, as if she hadn't quite taken in the fact that he was there, and hadn't connected the dots as to why he was there, and he wondered if she was actually drunk.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, concernedly.

She seemed to snap out of her stupor; "I'm fine. I...I'm just surprised to see you here, Severus."

He drew in a breath, ploughing on with his reason for coming; "Lily, I needed to see you. I...needed to speak with you. To...I just need you to tell me..." this was coming out worse than he had expected, not at all like he had been planning in the hours leading up to it. He swallowed his nerves and his pride, taking a deep breath to compose himself and forcing himself to go on; "Lily, I just need you to tell me if there is a chance. For you and I, that is. I understand that what I did...that you may never be able to forgive me for it."

She swallowed, lowering her eyes, another frown. Then she looked up at him.

"Lily," he went on, quietly, tilting his chin downwards, looking at her; "Is that the case?"

She held his look for a moment, her eyes scanning over him quickly, sad and searching. And then she drew in a trembling breath, stepped towards him and closed the distance between them. His breath caught slightly as she pressed her cheek to his chest and slid her arms around his waist. It took him a second to realise what had happened; before his own arms quickly came up to hold her.

As the seconds moved on, he felt his own courage grow, and he tentatively reached up a hand to stroke her hair.

* * *

Lily sighed in Severus' arms, as she felt his hand reach up, stroke the side of her head, his fingertips grazing her cheek. She breathed in the scent of him, hugging him tighter for a second, before she reluctantly released him and stepped back, looking up at him with a slight smile.

He smiled back, looking happy, almost gleeful, making her own smile widen.

Her head was fuzzy with the wine she had drank, and was already starting a foreboding pounding to warn her of the impending hangover, and her nerves were frayed after the disastrous evening she had just spent with Rodger; but suddenly the night didn't seem so bad.

"I'll see you on Monday," she told Severus, still smiling. He nodded, his own smile still present;

"Yes."

"At the Bistro; for lunch," she stated, wishing to confirm it.

He nodded.

She grinned.

And then he took a few steps backwards, "Goodnight, Lily."

"Night, Sev."

His eyes brightened somewhat at the renewal of the nickname, before he turned and headed away, back up the street, with a lightness about his step that he never usually had.

And she also felt a strange lightness about her as she turned and headed up the pathway towards the house; a weight suddenly feeling as if it had been lifted from her shoulders.

There was still Peter to worry about; still the concealment of a prophecy by Dumbledore.

But those things didn't seem to matter right now; not now that her and Severus' friendship had been repaired.

She lifted her wand to open the door and then frowned, noticing it was already open a crack. She nervously glanced up in the direction Severus had left, noticing he had already disapparated. She gripped her wand tighter, cautiously pushing the door open, peering in slightly.

She cleared her throat, calling into the room; "Hello?"

No answer.

She pushed the door open more fully, holding her wand out in front of her as she cautiously entered the house; she cast her eyes over the living area quickly, calling out again; "Hello?"

A groan emitted from the kitchen.

She glanced in the direction quickly, with a frown; "Who's there?"

Only silence met her this time. She flicked her wand, lightening the room; suddenly met with the sight of blood stains trailing across the floor from the doorway she had entered towards that of the kitchen.

She drew in a steadying breath, making her way towards the kitchen, a sudden dread washing over her as she quickened her pace, realisation washing over her before she had flung open to door.

"Oh my God," she whispered at the sight before her; "Sirius!"

In a heap, in the middle of the kitchen floor, almost completely drenched in blood, was her son's godfather; trembling and gasping for breath.


	18. March 1987: First Encounters

To Hogwarts Class of 1978, James Potter and Sirius Black were invincible.

Those who admired would watch in awe, while those who despised them would watch with envy, as they dipped in and out of trouble, carried out prank after prank, broke every rule handed out to them; done all of this, escaping them all unscathed and without consequence.

They were true marauders; completely indestructible.

What would they think of them now?

James Potter had lain in the same hospital bed, the same room, for over five years; would likely never leave it. Not as long as he lived.

And now Sirius Black lay in the same hospital, his condition critical; the Healers telling them that he may not wake up. The same thing they had been told in 1981 when James had been in a similar condition.

Remus shifted in his chair, his heart heavy, his chest tight as he watched the shallow, barely noticeable, rise and fall of Sirius' chest as he breathed. The swelling and bruising that had covered his face were beginning to subside and disappear; the salve beginning to work. His leg was raised, bandaged in muggle contraptions; the compound fracture untreated for too long to be healed fully by magic.

"Remus."

He jerked, startled, as Lily's hand touched his shoulder. She gave him an apologetic smile, holding out a paper cup of tea to him. He took it, casting her an appreciative glance, before taking a sip.

Lily sat in the vacant chair next to him, the one closest to Sirius, reached over and took the unconscious man's hand, giving it a squeeze; then a hopeful glance at his face, as if waiting for a reaction. Before she turned disappointed eyes in Remus' direction; "Any change?"

She couldn't have been gone more than ten minutes but Remus humoured her, not mentioning it, and shook his head; "Just the same."

"The Healers said the blood replenishment potion is working the way they hoped," Lily stated, then with forced optimism added; "They think it might encourage him to wake up."

Remus didn't respond.

"They...they said he might be able to hear us; that talking to him might help," Lily went on, tentatively; then glanced in Sirius' direction, going silent, as if she unsure of what she ought to say.

Remus scanned Sirius' still form, knowing exactly how she felt. What could he possibly say to him? And, if Sirius could hear them, would he even want to hear his voice? What he even want to know that he was there?

Nothing good had come of their confrontation several months before. A conversation he had always wanted to have, an issue he had always wanted to address; but he had felt no relief, no lifting of the burden he had carried. Instead, it had only strained their relationship further; their friendship, strained and frayed to the point that only a thread held them together. That being Lily and Harry.

Had breaking point come when he had kissed Lily? Had that been it for Sirius?

More than once Remus had felt as if he'd reached his breaking point with him; more than once he had felt as if their friendship was gone; lost. Over.

But now, sitting in this place, faced with the sight of his old friend so weakened; faced with the very real possibility that he may never wake up; that he may actually _die,_ he realised that it wasn't true.

It wasn't over.

He still cared. He still loved him.

Was this really happening all over again? The same as it had happened with James? Was he going to lose him, and then spend the rest of his life living with regret, wishing he had done things differently, wishing he had just explained what was happening with him. Wishing he had just said what the problem was, instead of burying it deep inside.

But, instead, he had shut Sirius out. Just like he had shut him, and James and Lily, out six years ago, when the war was becoming too much.

Hiding his feelings away. Creating resentment; distrust.

"Remus?"

He glanced at Lily at her soft tone. She let go of Sirius' hand, reaching over to rub Remus' arm, comfortingly; "Are you okay?" she asked gently.

He drew in a breath. And, because he never seemed to learn, he forced a smile and nodded.

He was just fine.

* * *

"God, Lily, that sounds awful," Julia breathed, as Lily finished relating the details of Sirius' injuries. Three broken ribs; a compound fracture in his leg; a serious head injury; and internal bleeding; "Do you know what happened? Was he able to tell you?"

Lily shook her head; "He was pretty out of it when I found him. By the time Remus and I got him to St Mungo's he was unconscious; he hasn't woken up since."

"Was Harry with you?" Julia asked, frowning in concern.

Lily shook her head; "No. I asked Molly and Arthur if they could take him for the night; he's still with them now." She glanced at the timepiece on the mantle; they would be bringing him back any minute.

"So, he doesn't know?"

Lily shook her head, lifted her cup to her lips; "No. I'm not sure what to tell him. Whether or not to wait until we know what's happening."

Julia only nodded, not offering any opinion on the matter. She rarely did when it came to her son, or her family; that was behaviour exhibited only by Remus and Sirius.

"So...not a great end to the night then?" Julia raised an eyebrow.

Lily glanced at her quickly at the change of tone. Julia grinned slightly and Lily was suddenly reminded of the disastrous evening she had spent with Rodger Wyatt just prior to discovering Sirius. An evening orchestrated and arranged by the woman across from her; she shot Julia a glare, earning an amused chuckle from her.

"I ran into him in Hogsmeade last night; nine thirty, wasn't it?" Julia grinned, before rolling her eyes; "Really, Lily; don't you remember what I said about the times a-changing?"

Lily only stared back at her, not at all amused by the situation; his obnoxiousness was just too insulting and that, coupled with Sirius' injuries, made it difficult to find any humour whatsoever about the whole incident.

"Was it really that bad?" Julia went on, her tone becoming more serious; "Did he try something?"

Lily shook her head; "No. He didn't get the chance. Though he was becoming a little persistent when we got to the house; trying to invite himself in."

Julia frowned; "Really? I hope you told him where to stick it."

"Didn't have to."

Julia shook her head, her expression slightly stunned; "Really? I didn't think he was all that bad. What was the actual date like? Was he interesting?"

"Julia," Lily suddenly chuckled, shaking her head; "Honestly, I don't know what you were thinking. How well do you know him? How well do you know _me?_ Surely you didn't think I'd actually be attracted to him?"

"Well...you know, he's cute," Julia shrugged, unconcernedly, "And he's pretty charming in a cocky sort of way," she glanced at him; "A bit arrogant, I guess; but, well, from what I've heard you husband was the cocky, arrogant type as well."

"Oh my God, Julia; that man is _nothing_ like James!" Lily burst out, appalled at the comparison; "You really think I would have married someone who acted like that?"

"I dunno," Julia shrugged, grinning again; "It's not like I've had many opportunities to observe your choices of mates, is it?"

Lily shot her an agitated look; "Trust me; there won't be many opportunities for that in the near future, either."

"Oh come on, Lily!" Julia laughed; "You can't swear of dating all together because of one bad experience."

"Maybe I'm just not ready for it yet."

"I think five and a half years is more than enough time to prepare."

Lily shot her a look.

"What do you mean 'you didn't have to'; what made him leave?" She went on, referring to the earlier statement.

Lily shrugged; "Well, I told him that Harry was inside. And Severus told him to listen."

"Severus?" Julia repeated, eyes widening with keen interest; "Severus Snape was there?"

Lily hesitated, immediately regretting the off-handed statement she had just made. She lifted her cup, stating with as disinterested a tone as she could muster; "He was just passing by."

"Passing by?" Julia reiterated, with a slight grin; "He just happened to be 'passing by' your house at nine thirty at night where absolutely nothing is; just a school and a muggle Church?"

"Perhaps he is religious," Lily deadpanned.

Julia smirked; "Or perhaps he heard about the date and hoped to get a glimpse of him."

"Hardly."

"Denial?" Julia raised an eyebrow; "You don't think he would be interested?"

"What?" Lily frowned.

"Well, you and he get along, don't you?" Julia stated the most obvious thing in the world, before going on; "Perhaps an evening with Severus would be more to your liking."

Lily gaped at her a moment, wondering if she had understood the implication correctly.

Julia grinned.

Lily pursed her lips together, frowningly; "Don't start. I already told you; he and I are just friends."

"Oh come on," Julia rolled her eyes; "You _must_ think he's attractive; how can you not? That mind; that body –"

"Julia!" Lily interrupted her, glaringly; "Perhaps it is _you_ who is interested."

"I hold my hands up to that," Julia lifted her hands to illustrate; "But I don't think the sentiment would be returned," she grinned, lowering her hands and leaning forward on her elbows with a twinkle in her eye as she regarded her; "Ithink his attentions are preoccupied elsewhere."

Lily held her look, mortified to find herself blushing, while a slight smile tugged at her lips.

Julia laughed, shaking her head; "You're pleased."

"What?" Lily blurted out, reddening further.

Julia's laughter increased; "You're smiling; you're pleased by the suggestion. You want him to want you."

"Oh hush, Julia!" Lily snapped, wondering if her face was now changing from red to purple, she felt so hot and embarrassed; "I want no such thing. I've never even considered it."

"But you're considering it now I bet," Julia teased with a manic grin.

"No," Lily denied the statement, ignoring the flashes of images of such an event, a date with Severus, that were passing through her mind; "No, I'm not. And neither is he."

"How do you know?" Julia persisted; "Have the two of you ever addressed it?"

"Addressed it?" Lily repeated.

"Yes; addressed the whole sexual implications of your relationship."

"There are _no_ sexual implications."

"There are always sexual implications in male/female relationships," Julia stated, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Not true," Lily rebuffed her; "I've been friends with Sirius and Remus for years."

"Yes," Julia nodded, adding with a smirk; "And Remus kissed you a few months ago."

Lily scowled at the reminder, which only added further support for Julia's statement.

"Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you," Julia went on.

Lily frowned; "Who? Remus?"

Julia rolled her eyes; "Severus. Obviously."

Lily shook her head; "Don't be ridiculous, Jules."

"You're the one that's being ridiculous here; pretending not to notice," Julia stated, eying her; "Either that, or you really _haven't_ noticed, in which case you're completely blind."

"Okay, stop; Severus isn't interested in me that way at all," Lily refuted the statement, beginning to feel flustered.

"Oh please; _everyone_ has noticed," Julia grinned; "You should've heard the things people were saying at the Gala over Christmas."

Lily's brow furrowed; "You never said anything about that at the time."

Julia shrugged, lifting a piece of shortbread from her plate; "I didn't think you'd want to hear it back then."

"What makes you think I'd want to hear it _now_?"

"Because you're stepping back out into the big bad world of dating," Julia winked; "So there's no reason for you to deny it now; all the sexual tension."

Lily released an exasperated breath; "There's no sexual tension, Julia. Severus and I are just friends."

"For the love of God, will you please stop saying that?" Julia laughed.

"I won't stop saying it because it's true and it appears that there's no other way of making you believe that; so, repetition it is."

Julia rolled her eyes; "Go ahead; bury your head it the sand. It's all gonna come back and bite you on the ass sooner or later."

Lily opened her mouth to speak but before she could respond the floo flared up in the other room and she heard her son's voice calling out to her.

Sending Julia a silencing look, she stood and made her way to greet her son, as she quickly attempted to decide whether or not to reveal Sirius' condition to him.

* * *

Sirius had been taken into St Mungo's eight days ago.

He hadn't regained consciousness since.

That's the news that Andromeda had given Regulus that morning.

The same he had been given every day since his brother's condition had been revealed to him the previous weekend.

Regulus hadn't spoken with his brother, _really_ spoken with him, since they were children. Not since he was fourteen years old, the day Sirius had walked out on them. The day he moved in with that bastard, James Potter.

The day he blew their family apart.

Regulus had seen him at Hogwarts. How he had always been so keen to prank and prey on anyone who happened to be in Slytherin house. Any house, _anyone_ really. Pureblood. Muggleborn. Half-blood. So long as they were weaker, lower, someone he could exert some sort of power over; no one was safe from the hexes of Sirius Black and his band of merry idiots.

Sirius had hated his parents but, more than that, he hated being told what to do, how to act. What was _appropriate_ behaviour and, as such, he always rebelled.

Since they were boy, his brother had always done the opposite of what they had been told. As if life were a game.

Regulus had always assumed that was the reason for his behaviour.

The way he would sneer down his nose at anyone who dared to aspire to be in the Slytherin house. Anyone who dared to question the Statute of Secrecy.

Simple rebellion against his parents' wishes.

Nothing at all to do with a strong moral objection to what was going on. He was never all that empathetic when they were children and Regulus never assumed his stance was political. Politics were dull, dull, dull, Sirius had insisted, sniggering at all the books and news articles Regulus would devour, eagerly seeking any opportunity that would see a change in the world.

For the better, Regulus had always assumed, though, obviously, he was to be the ultimate fool in that endeavour when the reality of his own choices hit.

Sirius couldn't care less about it all. Making a difference. All he ever wanted what a quick thrill. A chance to buck back at anyone who told him he was doing something _wrong._

But now, over a decade later, Regulus had no idea what his brother's motivations had been.

And for those ten years he hadn't cared.

All he cared about was one simple fact. His brother had destroyed their family.

His brother had walked out on them – him – and for that, he could never be forgiven.

Family came first, always.

Sirius had shamed his father and broken his mother's heart and all the pressures and expectations that had been divided between them then fell solely upon Regulus shoulders as he struggled to deal with the aftermath of his brother's betrayal.

It had been so easy to forgive Andie for it. He had been so young when she did it to his aunt and uncle that it hadn't affected him. Not really. Though he still remembered the day as if it was yesterday.

But with Sirius it had been different.

He had known how it was in that house; Grimmauld Place. Regulus almost shuddered at the memories of it.

Sirius had known what it was like to live there with them, to live under the overwhelming pressure and prejudice of their parents.

Sirius had escaped.

He had abandoned him, without ever looking back.

It was a childish thought, of course, and it was incredibly foolish to assume that his brother could have prevented what had happened to him during the war.

But, at the very least, Regulus couldn't help but resent it.

He couldn't help hating the fact that his brother had got out. Had told his parents to stuff it. Had been strong enough to turn away, to go it alone, to not give damn what anyone else – not even Orion and Walburga Black – thought of him.

Regulus could never do that.

It had mattered to him, all of it. Their family. Their values. Their politics. And his parents, he wanted them to be proud, to be happy, to tell him he was doing right and that the things he did, his contributions to the world actually mattered.

 _He_ wanted to make a difference.

And, in the end, where had that got him?

So disgusted with himself and all he had done in his quest for _greatness_ that he could barely even look into the mirror at his own reflection.

He hated Sirius for walking out on him.

But, yet, here he was.

In St Mungo's at his brother's bedside at two in the morning, when he was sure that no other would come across him.

He felt almost ashamed. _Embarrassed_ to be there. A hypocrite, even.

Sirius had attempted to reach out to him a number of times, ever since the war had ended. Since they had both emerged relatively, physically unscathed.

Each time his olive branches had been rejected.

Regulus hadn't been interested; he didn't want to hear from him. He didn't want to know.

"You're an idiot, Sirius."

The words escaped his lips before he could really comprehend what he was saying. But he supposed what he said was true. At least, it was a true enough reflection of his sentiments for his brother.

Sirius remained still; eyes closed. Not refuting the argument. Regulus would never had gotten so far before, in the past, when they had been brothers. At least, not before getting a whack in the jaw.

"You're such an idiot," he repeated, his tone full of disbelief.

Again, there was no response. No movement.

"What were you thinking?" Regulus hissed at his still form, a strange tight, sickening feeling welling up in his stomach; "Going after Pettigrew. Trying to be a hero? Judge, jury and executioner, more likely."

He eyed his brother, shook his head at the sight of his injuries.

He didn't look as bad as Andie had made him out to be, though that was over a week ago and any bruising and scarring had been dealt with by now.

"Look at yourself," Regulus whispered, shaking his head; "Thinking you're invincible. Didn't learn anything from Potter, did you?"

There was a small puff of breath from Sirius' lips.

Regulus raised his eyes to them with a frown; lifted his eyes further and found himself staring into the cool, grey eyes of his brother.

Regulus started, jerking backwards slightly, because he hadn't looked into his brother's eyes in _years_ and he was suddenly having flashes of better times; times when he was young and carefree.

When he was still innocent and pure and untouched.

He stumbled away as Sirius frowned, following him with his eyes.

Regulus turned, hurrying away with the grace of an elephant, knocking over a tray of paperwork and medical accessories as he dashed from the room.

* * *

"I'm really gonna see him?" Harry was looking at her with wide, eager eyes.

Lily stroked his hair; she was reluctant to agree with the request. It had been ten days since Sirius had been taken into St Mungo's and, still, there had been no change in his condition. He was yet to waken and the Healers were still unsure as to the extent of his injuries.

But he had began responding to touch the previous day; had began squeezing items placed into his hands. Had even followed instructions; been told to squeeze once, twice, three times and each time doing exactly as they had said.

The Healers had stated that neurological damage was unlikely, considering the improvement.

And so Lily had thought it was time for her to reveal the truth to Harry.

If Sirius was responding to instructions that it was quite certain that he could hear; could understand what was going on around him. And perhaps the sound of his godson's voice would help encourage him to waken.

"Yes, Sweetheart," Lily nodded, as she knelt in front of him, outside the door to Sirius' room. The room was private, like James'; something Remus had insisted on, despite the fact that neither of them could really afford such a request.

"Is he in there?" Harry's eyes went keenly to the door behind her.

Lily nodded; "Now, remember what I told you, Harry –"

"I remember," he said, impatiently, attempting to hurry past her.

Lily grasped him by the shoulders, holding him in front of her, determined not to have to deal with a repeat of the incident when Harry had first visited James. This time she had done her best to ensure he was prepared; had explained in detail, nothing left out, the extent of Sirius' injuries. That he was sleeping; that he might be able to hear him so Harry could talk to him.

"Now, remember; even though you're able to speak with your Uncle Sirius he can't answer right now. That's just because he's resting, okay? He needs lots of sleep so he can get better."

Harry nodded, glancing impatiently at the door; "Okay."

"So don't be upset if he doesn't wake up right away," Lily went on; "He just needs a little bit more time."

"I _know,_ Mum," Harry groaned; "Please, I just wanna see him. I don't need to talk."

Lily drew in a breath and then nodded; "Okay." Then released him, stood and flattened down her skirt before putting a protective arm around his shoulders and allowing him to hurriedly lead them into the room.

Harry eagerly pushed the door to the room open, hurrying in. He stopped a moment, taking in the sight of his godfather lying unmoving on the bed.

Lily squeezed his shoulder comfortingly; watched as her son swallowed, his expression anxious as his eyes scanned Sirius' form. After a moment he glanced up at her, looking unsure. She gave him a soft smile; "It's okay, Sweetheart. He's just sleeping."

Harry bit his bottom lip, turning back to look in Sirius' direction. Then, after a second, took a few slow steps towards him, before his pace quickened and he hurried to his godfather's side.

He looked him up and down, thoughtfully for a moment, before he grabbed the edge of the bed and hiked himself up next to Sirius; "Hi Uncle Sirius."

He paused, as if waiting for a reply, then he slid his arms around Sirius' neck, giving him a hug; "I missed you lots." He drew back, looked at Sirius' face, as Lily took a seat in the chair next to the bed; "Mum said you might wake up quicker if I talk to you."

Lily smiled at the innocent statement.

"I came looking for you, y'know," he leaned down, whispering at normal speaking volume in Sirius' ear; "It made Mum really, _really_ mad. She made me do tons of housework for it."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"I got all the way to Hogwarts! Malachi was with me too. You're his uncle too, you know. He really wants to meet you."

Sirius' hand twitched.

"Harry," Lily quickly got his attention. Her son looked at her, as if surprised to find her there. She pointed at the hand, which now lay still at Sirius' side; "Hold his hand; he might give you a squeeze when you're talking."

Harry immediately obeyed the suggestion, taking his godfather's hand in his.

"Uh...I started a new school. It's at the place Mum works. With magic; real magic!" Harry grinned widely; "And we do plays and stuff, just like at my old school. You missed one of them but –" he stopped suddenly, before turning in her direction with a delighted expression; "Mum! I felt it! He squeezed my hand!"

Lily smiled, glancing down; sure enough, Sirius squeezed his hand again.

Harry chuckled, looking at Sirius with a wide smile.

Then he lay down next to him, releasing the hand, and slipped his arm across his godfather's waist; "I love you, Uncle Sirius. I'm really glad you're home."

And Lily smiled, as she watched Sirius' hand twitch at his side once again.

She took it as an unspoken promise that he would soon be back with them.

* * *

As with all of Regulus Black's formulations when it came to the projects within the Foundation, the Orion Initiative was created with the intention of helping those who had been adversely affected during the war.

Its intention was to help those wishing to finally deal with what they had experienced finally be able to do so, by giving them the chance to reclaim any memories and incidents that they may have blocked out in an attempt to cope with what had happened.

It was created with the intention of allowing them to finally let go of what they were holding on to; if they had been unable to do so before due to not knowing what it was they were blocking.

The final step.

Over the past few days Severus had been both witnessing and carrying out the final stages of the testing process on volunteers; now finding himself in St Mungos for the final day, after Eugene and Regulus agreed to pander to the wishes of clients who hoped that the treatment may lead to a revival of loved ones who had lost their memories due to magical causes during the war. Loved ones who were lost to them.

That wasn't the intention of the project; it wasn't possible to revive such cases. That was what Dorado was attempting to do.

And, after a day of facing the disappointment and newly-lost hope of those who were being faced with exactly that news; information he would have been able to tell them _without_ wasting time experimenting on these people; he found the satisfaction of a project well done was significantly lacking.

That, coupled with the fact that Dumbledore intended to use the findings of the project for his own questionable motives, made Severus almost wish that the project hadn't been a success.

Nevertheless, people rarely got what they wished for. And, now that the final day of the trials was complete, there was only paperwork to be written out and the proposals and presentation of the findings, the latter of which Eugene had agreed to complete.

So, now, he would return to Dorado; and, if he were lucky, he may soon find out more about Dumbledore's intentions once the old man had gotten his way with the Longbottom boy.

Not something Severus anticipated all that soon, he mused; apparently he had been having some trouble convincing Augusta Longbottom of the importance of the arrangement and had been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from her grandson.

Severus was glad. While the one at home was tolerable enough, he had no wish to associate with and deal with the tantrums of a little boy.

But then, as if fate was laughing at him and his musings, as he finished gathering his notes from the table in front of the final trail patient's table and turned to exit the room, he found himself facing the four foot tall, spitting image of James Potter; familiar green eyes regarding him curiously.

* * *

As much as Harry loved his Uncle Sirius; as much as he had wished for and wanted him to come back; he couldn't help but find the sitting around, waiting in his hospital room until he woke up, to be the most boring thing his mother had ever asked him to do.

It was the same thing he had been doing all week; every day after school since the first time he had visited. And his uncle only did the same as he had done back then; squeeze his hand when he spoke to him. His mother had said he opened his eyes one time; Harry had been sleeping at the time and he wasn't sure if he believed her.

Maybe she only said that so that he would keep believing his Uncle Sirius would wake up.

And, not for the first time, he wondered if his uncle was really in the first stages of what had happened to his dad; that soon the hand squeezing would stop. His eyes maybe would open; but then they wouldn't see anything.

Such thoughts made him anxious and uneasy and that, along with his boredom, made him increasingly restless and agitated.

So, when he had noticed that his mum had drifted off to sleep in the chair next to his Uncle Sirius' bed, he had slipped down from his place next to him and crept quietly from the room; keen to put space between himself and his uncle, hoping the thoughts he was beginning to have would be left behind in the room.

It was late; not very late, as many people were still bustling around the corridors; looking busy, looking anxious. But it was late enough that it was dark outside, so he stayed clear of the exits, knowing that his mum wouldn't be happy if she woke and found out he was outside.

So he veered in the other direction; the direction he knew his father would be in. He didn't particularly want to visit him or see him; he just didn't know where else to go. So he made his way across the wings of the hospital; he knew his dad was on the same floor, not too far away. He had recognised it, the other corridor before, and he had notice his mum looking in that direction often when they made their way to visit his Uncle Sirius.

His mum hadn't made him go to see him again. And he hadn't asked. They hadn't spoken about his dad in a while; not since she had promised to stop being sad about him. He wasn't sure if that meant that she was happy now or if she just realised she had to hide it better from him now.

As he walked by an open door, the swish of ebony robes caught his eye and he glanced into the room, quickly recognising the man who was there, scribbling down words onto parchment; and Harry was reminded that his mum _had_ seemed happy, very happy, only a little while ago when she had been having lunch with this man.

Professor Snape.

Or Severus, as Malachi always called him.

Harry regarded him curiously; this man that could make his mum smile bigger than he had ever seen. It was a different smile; one he had never seen before.

But this man wasn't a smiling person; it was something he noticed immediately when he had first seen him. He noticed his smiles were small, tiny; so little you couldn't really notice them. And he wondered how he could stop himself from smiling, when someone else was smiling so happy and big at you like his mum had done that day.

And he definitely wasn't smiling right now. He didn't look happy at all. But he supposed he might have just been having a bad day; that's what his Uncle Remus often told him, when people were unfriendly. They were just having a bad day; give them three strikes before you decide if they're just unhappy that day or just plain miserable always.

And then, before he could really fathom that the man probably was in a bad mood, judging by his expression and heavy handed movements; before he could rationalise that and realise he should leave lest he get caught staring and offend him, the man had turned and was now facing him.

Harry hesitated, looking at him, gathering what information he could from the opportunity he was receiving to fully look over his mum's friend who he had never met.

The man appeared to be doing the same; could only stare at him. But Harry noticed that he seemed to recognise him; he was looking at him like he knew him. And not like he particularly liked him very much.

Harry offered a smile in greeting; "Hi."

Professor Snape regarded him silently for a further moment before he inclined his head; "Mr Potter."

Harry's eyes brightened and his smile widened further; "You know who I am."

"I remember you from my chambers," Professor Snape remarked, rolling up the parchments he was holding and breaking eye contact; "I believe you remember the occasion?"

Harry hesitated, taking a moment to figure out what the man had said; he spoke more formally than anyone he had met before. Words he had never really heard in normal conversation; "Uh. Yeah," he nodded; "You're Malachi's godfather."

"That is correct," Professor Snape glanced at him again, as he tucked the rolled parchments into his cloak; "Is there something I can help you with?"

Harry paused, then shook his head; "No...uh...yeah...I dunno."

"Eloquently put," the man raised an eyebrow.

Harry frowned, not sure if he liked the man before him. He was beginning to feel self-conscious; getting the impression that the man was making fun of him. He remembered what his Uncle Remus had said; remembered that the man had looked grumpy before he had even noticed him.

So he tried a different approach, reaching for the other thing they had in common; "You're friends with my mum."

The other man's expression softened slightly at the mention of her. He nodded; "Also correct."

"You talk funny."

"Manners, Potter."

Harry started somewhat; the man speaking his name with an edge that made him uneasy. He swallowed, glancing down, guiltily and apprehensively; "Sorry."

And then he remembered what Malachi had told him a little while ago, when he had asked him about the man. He had told him that Professor Snape was scary sometimes; that he didn't like stupid people. Harry glanced at him; wondered if the man thought that he was stupid. Because he could certainly believe what Malachi had said about him being scary; hoped that this was what he had meant, because he was finding him rather startling right now and didn't want to imagine that it could be any worse.

"Where is your mother?"

Harry glanced up quickly, surprised at the new, softer tone the professor now addressed him with. Seeing the softening reflected somewhat in his expression. Harry glanced back in the direction he had come; "She's with my Uncle Sirius. He's sick."

"So I've heard."

"You know him?"

The man didn't respond. Instead he stepped towards him and Harry quickly backed out of the way.

"I assume your mother is unaware of your whereabouts?"

"Uh..." Harry paused, looking up at him, frowningly.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes, slightly; "Does she know where you are?"

Harry shook his head; "No. She's sleeping."

"Come."

The man made off in the direction of his Uncle Sirius' room and Harry found himself following, hurriedly; the tone the man had spoken to him with demanding obedience.

"Uh..." Harry began, hurrying after him, finding his confidence had grown somewhat not that they were moving, almost side by side, rather than staring at one another; "My mum likes you."

The other man's steps faltered somewhat, slowing, as he seemed to think over what he had said. The professor glanced at him out the corner of his eye; "As you have already stated; we are friends."

"Good friends?" Harry enquired, hopefully, wondering if this man would be more open that his mother had been regarding their relationship.

The man eyed him and Harry avoided looking directly back at him.

"I suppose."

"You make her smile."

The statement was met with silence. Harry risked a glance; noticed the slight smile that tugged at the man's lips. Then he smiled; "Does she make you smile too?"

He received a sharp look; reminding him that he couldn't speak to him like that. With the same playfulness that he spoke with everyone else. This man was a stranger.

And, suddenly, the mantra he had drilled into him in his first year of primary school was echoing in his head; _stranger, danger; stranger, danger._

"Harry!"

But he guessed, from the tone of his mother's voice, that the danger in this circumstance wasn't going to come from the stranger he had now made acquaintance with, as he looked up and found her advancing towards them.

* * *

She had been young when she had become pregnant and, subsequently, given birth to her son. No one had warned, even mentioned, to her the full-time worry that would settle upon your shoulders the second the infant would be placed in your arms.

Lily remembered the first night she and James had taken Harry home. She had barely slept; had crept creeping over to his basket as he slept, just the check that he was still breathing.

As time went by, her concern for his wellbeing only increased as he began crawling, walking; as he began constantly putting himself in danger due to the numerous freak accidents she could imagine.

But now, at age six, she was certain he son's foolishness, his consistent ability to send her into a state of frantic panic due to his actions were going to be the death of her.

"Where have you been?" she snapped at him, when she was finally close enough to grab him by the arm.

Harry glanced in the direction he had come from, looking uncertain; "Uh...I...I was going to see my dad."

Lily paused, almost stunned speechless by the statement; "Wha...you..." And then she met Severus' eyes and suddenly felt uncomfortable, as she always did when the subject of her husband came up when she was in his presence.

She cleared her throat, looking down at him; "Go and say goodnight to your Uncle Sirius. We'll talk about this at home."

Harry hurried past her, eagerly accepting the temporary reprieve, and she watched until she saw him go back into the room she had just vacated, before she turned her attention back to Severus.

She gave him a smile; "Where did you find him?"

"Where he implied; the neurological damage section," Severus stated, glancing in the direction he spoke of; "Though he was not...with his father at the time," he met her eyes and then shrugged; "Obviously."

Lily nodded slightly; yes, obviously not. James Potter's bedside was hardly someplace her son would run into Severus Snape; "Thanks for bringing him back."

"It was no trouble," Severus waved a dismissive hand; "I was leaving and, after what happened last month I assumed you would appreciate having him returned."

She rolled her eyes, "He's always wandering off; too curious for his own good. He disobeys every rule given to him."

"Ah," Severus nodded; "Doesn't quite take after his mother then."

Lily met his eyes at the statement; at the implication of who her son was like. She wondered at the comparison; though that he was like James was hardly something anyone could deny, it was hardly a warm statement or a compliment coming from Severus' lips.

Severus shrugged, looking apologetic and slightly sheepish and she felt herself warm at the gesture, not the first time she had responded as such to him the past couple of weeks, more affected than was normal at how he seemed to regret upsetting her, and she found herself cursing Julia for what she had said some weeks before.

Because ever since Julia had confronted her with the notion that Severus had feelings that went beyond simple friendship towards her, she found herself flustered and self-conscious whenever she was in his presence. The first few encounters afterwards regarding him closely, watching for anything unusual in the way he behaved around her; seeing nothing, but, after several more meetings, realised that her own behaviour was beginning to change and that Severus was noticing it.

She would blush more easily and frequently; would find herself tongue-tied during conversation; and, to her own discomfort, found herself thinking about him frequently, almost constantly. She had even dreamt about him one night, definitely not an appropriate dream to have of a friend and co-worker, and so she had avoided him in the two days that followed it.

"How is Black?"

Lily founded herself drawn from her thoughts at the surprising enquiry. She frowned; "Um...he's okay. No change, really."

Severus inclined his head; "I see."

"He's responding to treatment," Lily went on, more hopefully; "He woke up a couple of nights ago. He couldn't speak; but I could tell that he recognised me."

"Good progress, then."

She nodded; "Yes."

Lily didn't know what it was that made Julia think Severus was possibly interested. He demonstrated no particular regard for her at all, except his usual friendliness with her that he had always had, right back when they were at Hogwarts. He certainly wasn't behaving as foolishly as she had been previously; hadn't appeared even the slightest bit self-conscious.

Instead, Julia had planted the seeds of the idea in _her_ mind; and she was plagued with thoughts of dinner over candlelight, walks in the park, dancing at Foundation functions; he _had_ danced very well at the Christmas Gala. And a repeat of that wasn't something she would object to.

But, sometimes, when she was around him she would begin having further, more inappropriate thoughts; thoughts such as how his hands would feel in her hair, or on her waist; thoughts such as the feel of his lips on hers. They would be soft, she knew that from the glances she had made at them; how it would feel to have them part beneath hers; his hands moving from her hair downwards, over her shoulders. Or from her waist, upwards, gathering fabric with his fingers...

She met his eyes and suddenly found herself blushing, flustered and mortified at the direction of her thoughts. She quickly averted her eyes from his, remembering his talent for legilimency; the last thing she wanted was to broadcast such images into _his_ mind!

"Are you alright?"

She jumped as his hand gripped her shoulder; the touch only making her feel even more hot and bothered than she already felt and he seemed to sense her discomfort and quickly withdrew his hand. She risked a brief glance in his direction, nodding; "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

She avoided his eyes and thanked the heavens when behind her; "Mum?" sounded, alerting her to her son's presence and readiness to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Severus," she said, still not meeting his eyes; "Thanks again, for Harry. I'll see you tomorrow," she almost cringed at the repetition as she hurried away.

She could feel Severus' eyes following her as she grabbed Harry's hand and drew him in the opposite direction; knew he would be confused and baffled at her actions but she couldn't find the courage to look back at him as she hurried down the corridor; both embarrassed and, not for the first time, confused at the direction of her thoughts.

* * *

"Don't blame me for your dirty mind, Lily," Julia's eyes gleamed as she regarded her over her coffee cup, the two sitting in the guest waiting area of St Mungo's.

Lily glared at her; "If it wasn't for your insinuations I wouldn't be having these thoughts."

" _My_ insinuations?" Julia repeated in a laughing tone; "All I did was speed up the inevitable, honey. If you're having these thoughts now, it means they've always been there. They've just be waiting to be set free," she made a flying bird notion with her hands as if to illustrate.

"Severus doesn't even think about me that way."

"Oh _please._ "

Lily shook her head, making to protest, but Julia went on; "Honestly, no one can be that blind, Lily. He wants you. He helps you with work, constantly, always giving you articles; he has lunch every day with you; he dances with you. These are things that Severus Snape never does with anybody."

"And how would you know that?" Lily raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, people talk," Julia grinned; "There were people taking bets on how long it'd take for the two of you to get it on at the Gala."

"Oh hush."

"Only half joking, Lil'," Julia winked; "Ever thought you might send Sirius back into a coma when he wakes up and finds out what's been going on while he's been away."

Lily paled at the reminder; "Not funny, Jules."

"You think he'd mind?"

Lily scoffed; "You saw how he reacted just to the idea of he and I working together."

Julia shrugged; "Ah well; deal with it when it comes to it, I suppose."

"There's nothing to deal with," Lily sighed, once again insisting her point.

Julia smirked, leaning forward on her elbows; "You've just sat there for twenty minutes telling me about all the illicit thoughts you've been having about Severus Snape and now you're trying to insist there's nothing going on?"

Lily shook her head; "Well it isn't. It's all one sided; and," she shrugged; "Well, it's been a while. Thoughts are bound to...develop; and Severus is the most likely person I'd end up thinking about. I'd hardly think the same about Sirius or Remus, after all."

"Or your husband?" Julia pointed out, with a sly smirk, then went on before Lily could retort; "Very rationally put, Lily. Severus' is the only male currently available to you right now; it's only natural you should start to fantasise."

"Okay, enough," Lily waved a hand, silencing her friend, and then lifted her coffee cup to her lips.

"You should ask him out."

Lily almost choked on the liquid she was drinking. Julia laughed, delighted at the response.

"I'm not going to ask him out, Julia; what if you're wrong? It would completely ruin the friendship we have; how awkward –"

"Ah ha!" Julia pointed at her, silencing Lily.

Lily frowned in bafflement at the look of satisfaction on her friend's face; "What 'ah ha'?"

"You're finally admitting your feelings! It's not 'I don't want to go out with him'. It's 'he doesn't want to go out with me; what if he says no; how will this affect our friendship-'"

"Julia –"

"You like him, don't you?" Julia grinned; "Like _like._ "

"I'm sorry, are we twelve?" Lily glared at her, taking a long drink, feeling a headache coming on.

"Mum!" Harry burst into the room, almost making her drop her cup in fright as he did so.

She shot him a look, making to scold him; "Harry –"

"Uncle Sirius is awake!" he announced, eyes wide, before he turned and hurried away, back in the direction of Sirius' room.

The two of them quickly abandoned their coffee mugs and hurriedly made their way after the boy, stumbling into the room where Remus and Harry already were, tending to the man in the bed.

Sirius' eyes were open, a slight furrow on his brow as his eyes flicked around the room, attempting to take in what he was seeing. He made to speak, his voice coming out in a dry croak; and then Remus slid a hand beneath his shoulders and lifted him, holding a glass of water to his lips.

Sirius drank the liquid eagerly, before stopping abruptly in a choke and then coughing violently, sending water across the bed. Lily stepped towards him, as Remus rubbed his back; "Hey, take it easy."

Sirius regarded Remus with a confused frown, before glancing back at Lily. He swallowed and then spoke, a harsh, scratching sounding; "Wha...what happened?"

Lily took his hand, shook her head; "We're not sure," she looked at Remus quickly; "Did you tell the Medinurses?"

"I sent Harry," he looked in the direction of the boy, who was holding his uncle's other hand, watching Sirius anxiously.

"I'll go," Julia spoke up.

"Lil'," Sirius joked out, a sudden desperation in his voice.

She looked down at him, squeezing his hand; "It's okay. You'll be okay –"

He shook his head, his breathing become slightly laboured; "No –"

"Just calm down," she insisted, as Remus laid him back against the pillows he had been propping up against the headboard.

Sirius reached up, grabbed her arm, looking anxious and frightened as he pulled her closer; "Lil', I...I can't...I can't feel my legs."

She started, glanced down at them, where Harry was leaning on one of them; "Harry...Harry, on the floor, please."

"I...I can't move them," Sirius gasped out, releasing both her and Harry's hands, as Harry quickly jumped down on to the floor. Sirius reached down to grab at the blankets covering his legs. The cast that had been on his leg previously was gone, the leg having healed during the weeks he was unconscious.

He reached down, grabbing at then; "I can't feel them," he repeated, his voice slightly stronger in volume, while the desperate tone in his voice increased

Harry curled up against his other uncle, watching the display fearfully, while Lily shared an apprehensive glance with Remus, as Julia and the mediwizard hurried into the room.


	19. May 1987: Out of Mind

Voldemort choose Neville.

Severus' statement haunted her.

It could have so easily have been Harry.

Before she had had Sirius' disappearance, his reappearance and his injuries to distract her. But now he was home and he had no idea of the events that had transpired in his absence.

Should she tell him? Shouldn't he know that Harry had been the target the whole time?

She supposed it really didn't matter now. Her son was safe. Neville Longbottom lived; had defeated him just as the prophecy had said. At least, that is what she gathered from the information Severus had given to her.

But that information hadn't been enough so she had asked Severus; how did an infant manage to defeat the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever known?

He didn't know.

"Then how can you be sure?" she had asked.

"We cannot be sure. There were no witnesses. We only known that it is what the prophecy stated would happen."

Lily had never put her faith in the accuracy of prophecies and she certainly felt no warmth towards to idea of them now that she had learned the true reason she had lost her husband.

Nevertheless, she had to know more. So she had spent the past fortnight gathering together any news articles and journals she could find concerning the events surrounding Voldemort's fall.

To no avail.

As Severus had stated, there had been no witnesses. Every piece of information, what little she could find, all said the same. Voldemort had entered the Longbottom's place of hiding on Halloween night; he, Alice and Frank died that night and the only survivor was the one-year-old Neville Longbottom. With no explanation for how he had survived.

Severus had told her not to trouble herself with the information; to appreciate the time she had with her son now that it was over.

But even Severus had seemed troubled when she had brought up the topic. He had appeared almost edgy and a wall seemed to come up between them with each question that she asked. She supposed he just wasn't comfortable talking about what had went on during the war; he clammed up completely when she started to encroach on the topic of Death Eaters so she had let that go.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that he was starting to pull away.

Something was troubling him and her questions only seemed to make it worse.

Meanwhile, at home, Sirius had noticed that something was troubling her. But she couldn't tell him what she knew without him learning of her friendship with Severus. She had enough troubles as things were without adding his condemnation to it.

The prophecy just didn't make sense. Voldemort's defeat didn't make sense.

How could an infant not only defeat him but also emerge from the attack completely untouched?

* * *

"Good. That's good."

"Could you be any more patronising, Remus!" Sirius snapped, glowering at the other man as he lowered him from the bed into the damned chair he had spent the past month in.

"Perhaps I should just let you fall on your arse," Remus retorted, though without the same fervour; but, as if to prove a point, Sirius felt the other man release him just a little too high up before he thumped down onto the chair with a crack.

"Fuck!" Sirius barked; "What are you playing at, Moony?"

Remus smirked as he leaned down and lifted one of his immobile feet to place on the rest and Sirius wished with all his might that the feeling would return at that precise moment so he could give the man a good kick in the face.

"Uncle Sirius?"

Both men turned as Harry's head popped around the door; "Are you ready yet? It's almost time to go!"

"Almost, Harry," Sirius forced a smile to his godson, shuffling himself in the chair using his arms.

Harry nodded, hesitating at the door as if to leave, before changing his mind and making his way into the room; "Mum said you might not feel like going out today."

Sirius waved a dismissive hand, determined not to be unnerved about the prospect of venturing outdoors for the first time since the incident; "I'm fine, Harry. There's no reason for you to worry; I promised I'm coming with you."

The apprehensive look in the young boy's eyes quickly dissipated at the affirmation and he smiled brightly at him; "Good! And you too, Uncle Remus?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Remus smiled, ruffling Harry's hair; "Go tell your mum we'll be down in a minute."

Harry nodded and eagerly bounded from the room, as Remus stood, having finally settled Sirius into the chair properly; "Comfortable?"

"Tremendously, Remus," Sirius remarked, glancing down at himself; "I can't thank you enough."

"Oh pack it in, Sirius," Remus rolled his eyes, grabbing the handles on the back of the chair and roughly pushing him out of the room.

"I can do it myself, I have my wand," Sirius reached for it but Remus carried on regardless.

He and Remus still hadn't discussed the confrontation they had had prior to him leaving at Christmas. The conversation was so final; never had it been so clear that the two had drifted apart. That their relationship was beyond repair.

Despite that, Sirius knew that Remus had been at his bedside every day that he had been unconscious. Even if Lily had not told him, he could still remember, when his awareness had eventually come back to him, before he had opened his eyes, that Remus had been there.

He hadn't spoken about anything worthwhile; Sirius remembered him reading from the Prophet at one point because he didn't know what he ought to say.

Had they been the same as they were as teenagers Sirius would have teased him about it. But they weren't. The awkwardness was still there and neither of them was willing to bring up the proverbial hippogriff in the room.

However, Remus had been there every day since he had woken up. Had been there for him; assisted with all the degrading activities Sirius didn't even want to think about. All the while they would bite one another's heads off, make sarcastic remarks, growl at one another for the tiniest of reasons.

And yet, Sirius was glad of it. He wanted Remus with him. Even if they had lost what they once had, the fact that he hadn't given up on him gave him hope that, just maybe, he would one day have his friend back once again.

He allowed that hope to guide him, as the two of them pushed forward; finally moving on and mending the damage that had been wrought.

* * *

"You understand I will not invite you in," Augusta Longbottom stated, standing tall and proud, keeping the edge of her door pressed close to her side.

"Then perhaps we shall be more comfortable on the bench?" Dumbledore indicated towards it, where it sat, old and rusted, vines wrapping around the bars.

Augusta eyed him for a moment, making no move to accept the suggestion; "You cannot speak with my grandson."

"As yet that is not necessary. It is yourself I wish to speak with."

"Pardon me any disrespect, Professor Dumbledore," she began; "But I know what you are about. And I understand your situation; but my grandson's wellbeing is all that concerns me and I will not have him become another casualty as his parents were before him."

"I assure you that will not be so," Dumbledore explained, smoothly; "It is only a memory I ask for; nothing more."

"There is always more."

"Not in this case, Ms Longbottom."

The old woman sighed. She glanced back over her shoulder, presumably in the direction of the object of their discussion, before she stepped out onto the concrete and pulled the door closed behind her.

"Professor; my son and his wife followed you blindly. They trusted you; they placed their lives in your hands. You made them promises, guaranteed their safety. They never truly believed that…that monster was coming for them. Because you convinced them there was nothing to fear."

"I admit I did not handle your son's situation as well as I could; I did not take the threat as seriously as I ought to. And I apologise –"

"Your apologies mean very little to me. You took them from me for over a year. You concealed them from all who loved them. And after a year of this; they were killed. Murdered."

Dumbledore was silent, only nodding slowly.

"It is a miracle my grandson even survived that night. You will forgive me for not wanting you to have anything to do with him."

"I assure –"

"Enough," Augusta held her hand up to him; "Until you give me a sincere, genuine reason – I want to hear nothing more about it."

Dumbledore drew in a breath, sizing up the woman before him, knowing that it simply was not possible for him to leave without securing permission to access the child's memory. Regulus and Severus' Dark Marks were unmistakeable now and unyielding; time was running out.

They needed to know what happened that night.

They needed to be prepared.

There was no other way.

"In that case," Dumbledore began, with a heavy sigh; "You had best sit down." And he indicated the bench one again.

This time she raised an eyebrow; and then did as he asked.

* * *

Severus' attendance at Foundation events were pretty much compulsory; that was the only reason he found himself at such functions almost every month. It was a necessary evil he had to endure as a way of supporting both the organisation and Regulus.

His attendance at these events, however, was not compulsory. It was not at all necessary that he waste a full Saturday in Hogsmeade, when he had a mountain of school assignments to grade, piles of research to muddle through for Dorado and paperwork to complete finalising the Orion project. And with the Dark Lord's return looming ever nearer, and Dumbledore still unable to secure permission to access Neville Longbottom's memory detailing what led to his fall five years previously, the idea of attending the Hogsmeade Spring Fling Festival was almost ludicrous.

And yet, here he was; Regulus and Malachi in tow.

Lily had invited him.

Sort of.

Not really, when he thought on it properly. She had simply asked if she would see him there; and he had said yes without really thinking.

It didn't mean he had to go. They had not planned to attend together; she probably wouldn't even notice if he failed to show up.

However, their time together had been scarce for weeks, what with the initial parting of ways following his revelations of his role in the war and then Sirius Black's return; the man had been in a bad way, he'd been led to believe and, subsequently, Lily had taken a leave of absence in order to take care of him and stabilise the situation at home.

So when he had bumped into her briefly the previous day and the question was asked, he had eagerly agreed as it meant the opportunity to see her again.

What an adolescent moron!

But he took comfort and satisfaction in the fact that Lily's eyes had brightened also when he had confirmed his attendance; even if she did look more surprised.

"Look Dad!" Malachi pointed excitedly towards one of the stands, "Apple dunking!" He immediately took off in that direction. Regulus smiled and followed.

Severus glanced down at his timepiece.

"Not a fan of dunking for apples, yourself?"

Severus kept his head lowered; but he smiled, instantly recognising the voice behind him. He tucked the timepiece into his pocket before he glanced over at her.

Lily smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"I prefer not to get wet," Severus stated, crossing his arms as she walked up to him.

"I see."

He quickly glanced around; "You're alone?"

Lily shook her head, looking over her shoulder; "No; they're all around here somewhere." Her eyes rested on something before she smiled and nodded in that direction; "There's Harry; it looks like he's spotted your godson."

Severus followed her line of vision and, sure enough, saw the young Potter standing with Lupin; pointing in Malachi's direction and attempting to drag the werewolf towards him.

"Regulus tells me you return to the Foundation on Monday," Severus turned away from the boys.

Lily nodded; "Yes. Sirius' condition is stable and Remus has agreed to check in when he can," she shrugged; "All we can do is make the best of the situation; there's nothing more we can do. Not until Sirius' condition improves – the healers are confident he should start to regain feeling."

Severus nodded; "That's good," he said; though he really couldn't care less. But he supposed it was good news he could tell Regulus.

"Why? Have you missed me?" she teased, her eyes twinkling slightly.

Severus fought back a smirk; "Perhaps."

"You're back on Dorado now, aren't you?"

Severus nodded; "Yes. Since a couple of weeks ago."

"Good."

"Good?" he raised an eyebrow.

She grinned and shrugged; "Perhaps I missed you too."

He gave a small smile, averting his eyes shyly.

Lily smile was bright in response, giving him the embarrassing sensation of butterflies in his stomach and he wondered if she knew exactly what she was doing before she gave a quiet hum of laughter, as she glanced around at the crowd before they focused on a refreshments cart.

"Would you like to get a drink?" she asked, as she turned back towards him.

He nodded, stepping forwards so they were both in line as they headed in its direction.

He had only seen Lily a handful of times since their reconciliation almost two months previously however, from just those few meetings, he was certain that there had been a shift in their relationship. While they had been on good terms previously, comfortable and occasionally teasing, the revelation of his role in the war, their acknowledgement and her acceptance, her forgiveness, for everything had changed them.

Conversation came easier; they both spoke more freely, whereas before there had been uncertainty and wariness. Perhaps because he had been so aware of the secrets he held back from her; the guilt he had felt with his deception. Or simply the knowledge, or more the assumption, as his expectations of her response had not come to pass, that she would sever their friendship as soon as she learned the truth was what made him hold back from her.

Something new, something stronger than what they had had, even back when they had been innocent children, was forming. Something built on a foundation of trust and respect.

In truth, it was a little frightening.

But thrilling, all the same.

Although he couldn't quite help but sense that she was holding something back from him. While she was open with him most of the time, he would occasionally catch her blushing, stumbling awkwardly over sentences, as if she was embarrassed by something.

He had frowned and called her out on it once which only served to embarrass her further so he had let the matter drop without further probing.

But it was curious.

He had never known Lily to be so…flustered. And he could think of no reason why she ought to be when it was only the two of them present.

"So, you have completed the Orion project at last, then?" Lily asked, as the two seated themselves on a bench after purchasing their drinks.

Severus nodded, "Yes, at long last. It is good to have finally concluded the project; I was beginning to wonder if it would ever be completed."

Lily chuckled, "And it is a success?"

He nodded, "A complete success."

"You must be proud to see one of the projects you initiated finally ready," she smiled, raising her drink to her lips.

"Hmm, pride?" Severus looked at her with a slight smirk, "Not at all."

She laughed.

In the distance he spotted a wizard making his way around in a chair, using his wand to guide the vehicles movements. A closer look at the man revealed it was none other than Sirius Black.

"I see Black is becoming accustomed to his condition."

Lily followed his gaze in the direction and he noticed that she suddenly tensed somewhat, and turned away, almost ducking as she did so. He frowned at the reaction but before he could question it she spoke as if nothing were amiss.

"Yes, well…it is his first time out of doors today."

"I see."

She glanced in Black's direction and Severus noticed her visibly relax as the man disappeared into a nearby tent. She cleared her throat as the tension left her body and she went on;

"I'm actually surprised he agreed to accompany us; he has been very reluctant to leave the house. And his mood swings – goodness! – he bites poor Remus' head off constantly." She looked at him with a smile which faltered slightly at his expression. She frowned slightly; "What?"

Severus wasn't aware that he had been frowning, not really taking in anything she was saying, too concerned with his thoughts following her previous reaction to seeing the other man.

She was most definitely attempting to hide from the other man. And, considering she had obviously arrived at the event in his company, the only possible reason for that was that she didn't want to be seen with him.

It bothered him.

He wasn't entirely sure why. After all, he did not need Sirius Black's approval to be in Lily's presence, nor did he care if the other man had an objection to it – which he undoubtedly would. However, he was not so petty that he would wish to intentionally flaunt his relationship in Black's face with the simple intention of annoying him.

No, it had nothing to do with Black.

It was Lily's reaction alone that affected him. Obviously she had been concealing the relationship between them from the man. How she managed he didn't know, as he was aware Lupin knew of it, as did her young son.

Was she ashamed?

At the unexpected thought he couldn't help but be reminded of the insecurities he had felt as a child at Hogwarts; when he had often wondered the same thing.

He furiously pushed such thoughts away.

He was no longer a child.

"Nothing. I just couldn't help but notice your attempt to conceal yourself from Black," Severus said, straight to the point. Why beat around the bush? After all, it was lack of communication that had led to problems not so long ago.

Open and honest, that is what he wanted them to be.

Lily looked startled at the statement, "Oh. Um…"

Severus took another drink. Not pushing, but not letting her off the hook.

She shrugged, seeming to decide to take the open response he had hoped for; "He doesn't know. About you and I."

"What about you and I?" he couldn't help but tease.

She rolled her eyes; "About our friendship. It hasn't yet come up in conversation."

"Ah."

He only nodded.

Lily swallowed, looking down and into the cup she was holding, moving it in her hand so the liquid swirled around; "I believe he will have some objections."

"I would expect as much," Severus raised an eyebrow, before he went on; "This bothers you?"

"Yes. No…well," Lily shrugged, "It would make no difference to our relationship; he cannot dictate whom I spend time with," she spoke with clarity and decision, but faltered somewhat on her next statement, "Yet…"

There was a pause and he decided there was no reason for him to take offense. What had possessed him to in the first place, really? Had he truly feared she would end their friendship over objections made by Black, when only recently she had forgiven the unforgivable?

He rolled his eyes at his own childishness.

"You are concerned about the effect it may have on your relationship with him?"

Lily released a breath, the sound indicating relief, and he realised she had been worried about offending him; "Yes. It…it may cause some tension." She waved a hand; "Nothing I can't handle; just not something I am eager to confront. Especially not here, now."

Her eyes went in the direction of her son, where he continued to chat animatedly with Malachi.

Severus nodded; "Understandable."

She smiled at him, warmly, obviously pleased and he felt himself warm.

The two settled into a companionable silence, as they observed the numerous goings on around them. After a moment she turned to him; "Have you collected your candle for the firelight ceremony?"

Severus almost scoffed.

He didn't, but she still laughed, obviously sensing that he wanted to; "You're not staying for it?"

He was silent.

He hadn't really thought about it, if he were honest. He had simply planned on leaving whenever Regulus had deemed fit. He glanced over at her; "Are you?"

Lily smiled, almost teasingly, "Would you stay if I were?" She leaned towards him slightly as she said it.

Severus frowned slightly. Was he imagining it? Was she…surely she wasn't actually flirting.

"I…" he found himself at a loss for words.

Her eyebrow rose slightly.

He only smiled, raising an eyebrow of his own; "I had already intended to."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, dramatically; "Is that right?"

"It is."

"And here I was thinking you just wanted to be in my company."

She was joking, obviously. And he was imagining the toying manner in which she was speaking, he was sure. And yet he couldn't help the blush spreading over his cheeks and the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

He didn't mind the awkwardness it stimulated.

In fact, Severus found he rather enjoyed it.

* * *

Severus blinked.

Dumbledore sat across from him, looking incredibly pleased with himself. And why shouldn't he, Severus supposed. After all he had been so sure the Headmaster would have been unable to achieve this victory and he had made these thoughts undoubtedly clear to the older man on several occasions since the intention to use Neville Longbottom in their plans had been revealed.

What could the man have possibly said to Augusta Longbottom to convince her to allow this?

"You appear rather stunned, Severus. Shall I fetch a glass of water?" Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Severus shot him a look before he straightened and made to compose himself; "Merely curious, Headmaster; how did you manage to convince the boy's grandmother?"

Dumbledore waved a dismissive hand, "Only by indicating the seriousness of our situation."

"You told her about the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore fixed him with a deep look, "Certainly not."

Only the night before Severus had been enjoying Lily's company at the firelight festival, intermitted only by amicable conversation with Regulus; the Dark Lord's impending return a mere blip in the darkest corners of his mind. It was pleasant and easy to forget about the darkness they would soon be walking into when he was with her; he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. If he should be allowing himself such a distraction.

He hadn't been in the school for five minutes, in those minutes walking with a lightness to his step and his mind elsewhere, nowhere useful certainly, before Dumbledore had summoned him to his office to present him with the next steps in their approach.

A cold bucket of reality being thrown over him at the beckon.

Severus cleared his throat, noting Dumbledore watching him curiously, and automatically tightened his occlumency shields; "The next step, then?"

"Augusta will bring the boy to Hogwarts this evening; I trust that is a suitable time?" Dumbledore looked at him expectantly, his words not really a question.

It wasn't suitable.

The Spring Fling Festival at Hogsmeade was still ongoing and he had, not so much arranged as implied, to Lily that he would meet with her that night.

A distraction, his mind almost sneered at him.

He shook his head against his thoughts; this was far more pressing. And he certainly wasn't going to use that as an excuse to Dumbledore, of all people. Not that it would hold up as an excuse to anyone, he might add.

"Of course," he stood, "I shall return this evening, then."

"Perhaps earlier," Dumbledore suggested, lightly, "She is to bring the boy at six; it would give us more time to prepare."

Prepare for what? Severus felt like retorting. After all, he would be spending the time from now until this meeting going over the details of the Orion; perhaps practicing on a…volunteer?

Certainly, the spell had been tried and tested many times during its trial period but this would be the first time Severus had used it with intent; and he didn't want the first time he had done so to be on a small child.

But where would he possibly find a volunteer for such an endeavour?

Severus fought a wry smile; there really was only one option.

"Very well; I shall return at five thirty," Severus consented, receiving a pursing of the lips from Dumbledore in response. It seemed not quite what the older man had wanted to hear but it would have to do.

After all, Severus was going to have his hands full until that time.

* * *

"This really crosses the boundaries of friendship, Sev," Regulus remarked, as Severus took a seat opposite him.

"Nonsense," Severus waved a hand, "We'll start with something simple. A memory of drinking your first glass of firewhiskey." He was shuffling through the papers on his lap.

"I remember that, it wouldn't work. Don't patronise me," Regulus looked away, avoiding eye contact; "Isn't there another way of doing this? I…" he cleared his throat, "I trust you, of course. I just…don't feel entirely comfortable with this."

Severus sighed in exasperation.

Regulus knew he was being difficult but really how could he not have objections to this? This wasn't a simple experiment in legillimency; Severus was asking him to grant him access to the deepest corners of his mind. To search for memories, troubling, difficult memories that he had allowed himself to forget; block even. He was quite certain Severus would never allow him such an opportunity.

"I will try to make it as unobtrusive as possible," his friend offered.

Regulus sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead, "You're looking for something I don't even remember myself; you may find something I'd rather not be found."

He would find something he'd rather not be found. He had blocked many things from the war; many things he had done, engaged in. He didn't want to remember them. And while he was certain Severus had been present in many of them and, as such, had already seen him at his worse, he didn't want either of them to be reminded of it.

"It is only you and I here, Regulus."

Regulus met his eyes, warily.

"I assure you, anything I…observe will not be used against you."

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest; "Don't we need to have a specific point, a timeframe in mind, that we need to focus on? That's how the spells works, isn't it? I'd rather we not float around aimlessly –" he paused, looking suddenly nervous; "Is it possible that we could become lost in…" he let the thought trail off.

A smile tugged at Severus' lips; "Are you worried that the depth of your mind might drown us?"

Regulus shot him an irritated look.

Severus fought back a smirk; "It does not have to be difficult."

"The point of the spell is to search for difficult memories, you know that."

Severus sighed, glancing at the mantle clock; "Regulus, there isn't time for this. We have to get started."

"Fine."

"Fine," Severus mimicked with a roll of his eyes. He cleared his throat; "I need you to tell me of a…circumstance you may have blocked."

"Could you be more specific?"

Severus was looking irritated now; "Are you being this obtuse on purpose?"

"I don't want to reflect on the war," Regulus ground out, fully ready to up and leave. Severus was doing nothing to entice him to be open with him at the moment.

"Then choose something else," Severus almost, but not quite, snapped, barely able to reign in his impatience, "Something that happened before the war. The incident doesn't have to be recent; think of something that may have been difficult for you to deal with at Hogwarts, or as a child. No matter how trivial it may seem now."

The idea gave him pause. His mind was so often caught up in the war, his remorse over what he had done and his fear about what was still to come now that the Dark Mark had returned, that he often found it difficult to remember that there even was a time before the Dark Lord. Everything of what he was now was defined by it, by him, and he could barely remember who he was before. How he had even been as a child.

But then, that was the point of the spell, wasn't it?

"Regulus?" Severus probed gently.

Regulus sighed and nodded; "Okay. Okay…I…give me a minute, I'll think of something."

There wasn't all that much to think about. Something difficult that had happened to him as a boy; something he may have blocked, had forgotten. Certainly there had been the occasional difficult moment when he had been young; perhaps his parents had been a little too hard on him at one time, perhaps expected too much of him as a Black. But, really, his parents loved him. His mother certainly treasured him. He had been relatively popular among his classmates at school and he had never been a subject of bullying or even ridicule; he was the perfect Slytherin, the perfect Black.

But there was one incident. One big black mark in his childhood that he never dared to think about and, as such, the memories around it had faded away. Had he blocked them or were they just lost?

He sighed; it didn't matter. All that mattered was that there were memories there, on that day, that he couldn't recall. Severus just had to find one.

Regulus nodded, "Alright."

Severus raised an eyebrow; "You are ready? What are we looking at?"

Regulus swallowed, drawing in a breath; "December 27th 1975."

"I need a bit more information than that," he said, not unkindly, simply ready to proceed now that they had an objective to focus on. He moved to put away the papers he was holding, reaching for his wand after he did so.

"The day Sirius left."

Severus hesitated in his movements, pausing to glance in Regulus' direction with a frown. The two of them were silent a moment as Severus seemed to ponder on the statement, the implication of trust it entailed, before he nodded, settling back on the seat opposite.

"Very well."

Severus lifted his wand; "You know how the procedure works?"

Regulus nodded, "Yes."

"You have to stay with me throughout. Focus –"

"I know."

Severus nodded, reaching for the phial that was sitting ominously next to them on the table, before holding it out to him. Regulus took it from him, reluctantly, took a deep breath and lifted it to his lips, drinking the potion in one gulp.

And almost chocked on the vile substance.

"Ugh!"

Severus was fighting a smile as he took the phial from him and put it back on the table, "Right. Ready?"

Regulus swiped the back of his hand across his lips before he nodded, roughly, nervous and already feeling the potion getting to work; inhibitions lowering, defences falling. His mind becoming easily accessible to any who should wish to invade.

Severus lifted his wand.

"You have the potion to counter –"

"Yes."

Regulus bit his lip however, mere seconds later, he felt his nervousness falling away, as he began to feel himself relax completely. Relaxed but still completely lucid; feeling himself become more in touch with his thoughts, feelings, rather than the external influences.

"Are you listening?"

Severus sounded almost far away. He nodded.

"Stay with me…going to…incantation…few moments…"

He was only catching snippets of what Severus was saying as thoughts, feelings, memories swirled around him.

Voices surrounding him. Everything coming and going. Flashes. Most insignificant.

"You're a right dunderhead."

Severus was laughing. Younger; he was drinking.

"Life's not fair, Regulus. It's time you accepted that."

The voice, the words were recent. The images weren't. From times long ago lost. Severus swiped a hand across his face, wand in his hand. A Death Eater mask formed, concealing his features.

"Have you looked at your left forearm recently?"

Suddenly the Dark Mark was everywhere. Surrounding him. Death. Death. The Dark Lord. Voldemort.

It was gone.

Malachi was there; Malachi as a baby. He was being passed to him…

Evelyn.

No!

He felt a wave, his memories scattering, rippling as if in water, as he fought against them.

"Regulus. Relax."

Severus voice was suddenly clear and his presence in his mind was peculiar, not quite unsettling as he had expected, rather it was comforting and he felt his memories settling as he allowed himself to calm.

"Ready? Are you with me?"

"Yes."

"Do you need me to find it? I can but if you are able I shall simply follow."

"No, it's okay."

Regulus knew where to push, the incantation had stabilised the memories, working with the potion as it was supposed to. And suddenly the vastness of his mind and memories were open to him, to them both, as if they were in the ocean. There were memories close to the surface, where they were; a mixture of recent ones and lighter ones.

He was floating and he could sense Severus' presence close behind as he focused on a darker corner and pushed.

"Slytherin, eh?" Sirius' expression was a mix of disappointment and acceptance; of dashed hope but completely unsurprised.

"Yeah," Regulus pushed his chin up a little higher, pushed his sadness at disappointing his brother down as he did so. What right did Sirius have to make him feel ashamed for being sorted into a house he was supposed to be sorted into? The house Sirius, himself, should have been sorted into? Sirius was the disappointment, not him!

Regulus passed over the memory; that wasn't what they were looking for. He didn't expect to see things like this; had expected it to be similar to the pensieve, to view the memories from the sidelines. He was not expecting to see everything through the eyes of himself in the memories; nor did he expect to feel the same emotions he had experienced at the memories took place before him.

He felt Severus with him, seeing through his eyes; his friend wasn't saying a word. Simply following.

Memory after memory all focused on Sirius; his seven year old brother's smile as they huddled in his bedroom, waving the wand Regulus had snuck from their parents' room; Sirius' pulling him up from the ground after he had fallen; Sirius slinging him over his shoulder in a lift, only to topple and bring them both to the ground under his weight; Sirius punching him in the arm, looking irritated; Sirius giving him his ice-cream after his had fallen; rolling his eyes at something Regulus had said; Sirius laughing; Sirius smiling.

This was his brother. His brother being his brother.

He had long ago lost these memories. But they weren't want they were looking for. He pushed on, not pausing to think or reflect until he finally found the one he was looking for.

He found it; little glimpses, hazy from time and pieces missing, the details of the day long-forgotten, banished from his mind. He prodded it, the space in his mind, felt Severus there.

"Hold onto it."

He did, held it and pushed, willing the memory back to him.

"Integro," he heard Severus speak quietly.

And then, suddenly, he felt the memory, the details knitting themselves back together; his mind whirling as disremembered aspects began slowly returning.

"What are you doing?"

Sirius never did anything quietly. There was always a big show. A dramatic scene and a dramatic declaration, as had been done mere minutes before. It wasn't enough that he was walking out; that he was doing what Andie had done some years before; that he was breaking their mother's heart and was tearing their family apart.

Sirius didn't stop to look at him as he continued to throw clothing into the bag he had set on his bed; "What I just said; I'm leaving. I'm done with this place."

"You can't just leave."

"Watch me."

"Sirius."

"Get out of my room, Reg."

"It's not your room anymore, apparently."

"Whatever. Fuck off."

Regulus stomped over from his place at the door when Sirius turned back to the wardrobe and grabbed the bag, turning it upside down and shaking it so the contents fell from it to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

Sirius had him by the arm, his face only centimetres from his.

"You can't just leave! Tell them you're sorry! You didn't mean it!"

"I did mean it," Sirius let him go and Regulus stumbled back slightly but forced himself to remain steady. He could never win in a fight with his older brother. Sirius was volatile and unpredictable.

Sirius grabbed the bag off the floor and began stuffing the items back in.

Regulus was overcome with fear and dread, realising that his brother was truly going to walk out on his family. Walk out on him.

He grabbed at Sirius arm, "Please, you can't!"

The plea in his voice had gotten his brother's attention. Sirius paused and glanced at him, looking at him thoughtfully, "Reg…I have to."

"You're just been an arse is what you're doing," Regulus snapped, "You don't even care what this means; what it'd do to Mum and Dad if you leave."

Sirius released a humourless laugh and shook his head, moving to carry on his packing, "You wouldn't understand."

"I'm not a kid!"

"No, but you're Black," Sirius said it, the way he spoke the name, as if it were the worst possible thing he could be; "A Black through and through."

"So are you!"

"No, I'm not. I'm not like any of you."

"Don't kid yourself."

"I'm not getting into this; you won't listen," Sirius wasn't even looking at him as he spoke.

Regulus was at a loss at what to say, overwhelmed by feelings of desperation and fear; he wanted his brother to stay. He hadn't been particularly close to Sirius since his older brother had gone to Hogwarts, since he had fallen in with Potter and found a more suitable, more compatible companion and yet the idea of him actually walking out of his life completely was unthinkable.

He couldn't.

He couldn't honestly walk out and leave him; leave him to deal with their parents alone! The pressure, the expectation, they could barely hold it together when it was the two of them. And now his brother would walk out and leave him to deal with it all single-handedly just so he could make a point.

He couldn't. He couldn't!

Purebloods. Mudbloods.

Blood purity.

Legacy.

'Toujours Pur'.

It was too much.

He reached out, his desperation becoming overwhelming, and grabbed his arm; "Please; don't go."

Sirius stopped in his movements, turned to look at him with a frown. The two of them stood like that for a moment as his brother weighed up what he had said. Understanding seemed to flash within Sirius' eyes and Regulus found himself wondering what it was that he understood; because Regulus could barely comprehend what was happening himself. He was so stunned by what was happening, the unthinkable occurrences that were taking place, that all he could do was hold tighter to his brother and pray that he would hear him.

Another moment passed and then Sirius stepped forward, pulling him into an embrace. Regulus tensed, not used to such displays of affection from anyone, least of all from Sirius, feeling anything but comfortable and yet he felt himself gripping tighter.

And then Sirius pulled back, moving to stand so far away that Regulus released the hold on his arm.

"I really am sorry, Reg."

And then his brother was gone.

Regulus blinked.

Severus was sat across from him, regarding him carefully.

"Well," Regulus said after a moment.

"Well."

The two were silent. And then Severus handed him another phial; the counter potion. He uncapped it and drank it, more slowly this time, then lowered it with a small release of breath.

"Thank you, Regulus."

* * *

The process wasn't quite what Severus had expected. He had heard in the accounts he had read through during the trials that fatigue was one of the common side effects of the procedure however the exhaustion he had felt, both physically and emotionally, following the incident with Regulus had been so great that he had been forced to take a nap, lest he be unable to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

He did not have time to ponder what had happened, on the memory nor on the emotions Regulus had shared with him earlier that day. He had seen everything his friend had seen, felt everything he had felt, experienced it as if he had been there.

He knew Regulus wouldn't appreciate any analysis; the entire exercise was for Severus' benefit, a chance to perfect the procedure, not an opportunity for Regulus to face up to any past burden and, certainly, not for Severus' interference regarding it.

He would leave it alone. Regulus what not appreciate his intervention and, of all the issues that plagued his friend, Severus was certain that his relationship with his brother was a minor one, paling in comparison to everything else.

There were more pressing matters at hand.

Like little Neville Longbottom currently sitting in his grandmother's lap in his office.

Severus took a deep breath, walking towards them with the potion necessary to begin. He was slightly nervous; earlier he had been able to feel Regulus grief, his sadness and his distress so strongly, as if it were his own. What such emotions would Neville Longbottom's memory evoke?

"What is that?"

Augusta Longbottom eyed the phial Severus had been about to hand to the boy. He hesitated, handing it to her instead; "He must drink this; it is necessary for the procedure." He went to collect the counter potion, turning away from them.

The old woman eyed him for a moment, before she opened it and gave it to her grandson. The boy obediently drank it and Severus heard him protesting the flavour as he made his way back, taking the seat in front of them.

He cleared his throat as little eyes looked up at him warily. Severus shifted, uncomfortably; he wasn't very good with children. Had never been. He tolerated the children at Hogwarts; most of the time he ignored them completely however they were older and, when he did speak with them, it was not necessary to do so gently, or soothingly; the way the little Longbottom seemed to need to be spoken to now.

Instead, Severus offered a tentative smile and lifted his wand.

With a deep breath and nod at Mrs Longbottom, he eye contact with the boy, who was beginning to take on the same glazed expression Regulus had earlier; "Quaero."

He was thrown into the little boy's mind with the same jolt he had felt earlier and found himself swimming in another sea of memories; the setting of this one lighter, freer, almost completely devoid of any darkness.

Severus was startled for a moment at the purity of the place he found himself in; the calmness and brightness that surrounded him compared with the one he had found himself earlier.

The innocence was breath-taking.

"Hello?" a small voice spoke.

The boy sensed him; the first word he had ever said directed at him.

"I am with you, child," Severus assured him, feeling almost honoured to be so; to be allowed into a place so pure, when he was certain the presence of his mind would match the jaded darkness of his friend. He forced such thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand; "Think of your parents for me, young one."

The process took longer than it had with Regulus; the boy was unable to control and search for his memories the way the former had but that was to be expected. A variety of memories surfaced and Severus found himself taking along for a long ride of brief flashes into the final year of Alice and Frank Longbottom's lives.

He almost missed it.

That little dark spot that flashed up with one memory.

"Stop."

The memories remained suspended around them as the boy struggled to hold on.

"Your mother putting you to bed. Think more about that."

There it was. Alice Longbottom smiling down at the boy, tickling under his chin. The boy looking back at her, laughing and his eyes full of love for his mother. Her face changing, turning and then going with a quick kiss to her son's forehead.

The memory began to break; cracks. Nothing coming next.

"Hold onto it."

But the boy wouldn't; Severus could feel him become anxious. He needed to act quickly.

"Integro."

Like before, the memory began to repair itself; restoring itself as the details began stitching itself back together.

"Someone's at the door."

The voice was faint, coming from the other room, panicked. A soft gurgling sound escaped the baby's lips. Severus was in the child's mind; the child that would not turn towards the door and look at what he wanted to see. Instead, the baby was content to stare up at a mobile hanging above the crib; little hands came into his line of vision, reaching up.

Severus could clearly feel the innocent delight in the boy as he reached for the toy.

It seemed the boy's feelings would be no use. He tried to ignore them and focus, instead, on what the child was hearing.

"Alice, run."

The sudden crash in the other room frightened him, shook him; and it took a second for Severus to remember it was the baby's feelings he was experiencing not his own and he forced himself to focus on the events unfolding in the other room as the baby began to cry.

"Avada kedavra!"

"No!" Frank Longbottom's agonised cry made the terror increase and the baby's cries intensified so that it was almost impossible to hear anything.

Severus could almost sigh at the futility of it all; he could barely hear a thing over the screaming infant. He supposed he would have a better opportunity to scrutinise the memory in a pensieve when it was extracted.

There was more crashing sounds from the other room, very brief words exchanged, and then, suddenly, the house shook and an energy quickly built up, tense and tight, before realising in a startling boom! And the unmistakable sound of brickwork crumbling and crashing to the ground issued from beyond the walls of the room.

The baby was shocked into silence by the sound.

There were a few moments of silence and then the sound of the door creaking made the child's head turn.

And there, on the floor, Frank Longbottom pushed into the room, stomach and face pressed heavily against the carpet; he pushed in slowly, weakly, his arms straining against the floor before he stopped pushing half way into the room.

The face of Frank Longbottom was covered in blood, his breathing coming in harsh pants, and through the boy's eyes he could see the blood spilling from gashes across his torso, his face and his neck; gashes made from a spell Severus knew all too well.

The man's eyes met those of his son's as he slowly slipped away.

* * *

Few things could surprise Albus Dumbledore anymore.

He had seen too much in his long life; had experienced more than he ever wished to. As such, he considered himself rather skilled at anticipating the next moves of others, opponents and allies alike, as well as being able to analyse and judge facts in order to ascertain events which may have taken place.

He was never quite sure what had taken place on Halloween Night 1981; wasn't entirely certain what events had taken place within the Longbottom's residence.

Most of what he knew about the incident the entire Wizarding World was aware of.

Four people were alive in the house. Only one person survived.

Fifteen month old Neville Longbottom survived.

His parents did not.

Voldemort did not.

Everyone knew this.

However, only two people knew the information regarding the prophecy. Four, if Severus' half-knowledge and his sharing of it with Voldemort it were to be considered.

Neville Longbottom survived. Voldemort did not.

The two, the Chosen One and the Dark Lord had finally faced one another. Dumbledore was not fool enough to assume that that was the end of it; that an infant had indeed fulfilled the prophecy.

However, he was fool enough to assume. Dumbledore had assumed that the wheels of motion had begun to turn that night.

After viewing the memory Severus had managed to secure for him, it was now undoubtedly clear that this was not the case.

Dumbledore had never been sure before, couldn't really be sure until he had the chance to meet with the boy properly. After all, it could mean a number of things. It could have been physically; it could have been psychologically.

'…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…'

Dumbledore was quite certain that, this time, his assumption was quite safe to make.

Neville Longbottom had not even faced Voldemort that night.

It was not even an assumption. It was a fact completely supported by logic.

Neville Longbottom had never been marked.


	20. June 1987: Darkness Rising

"It was Death Eaters."

Lily met Sirius' eyes sharply over the Daily Prophet.

He held her look steadfastly; his expression certain and grave and that, along with the information he had just shared made a knot form and tighten in her stomach.

"How can you be sure?"

"I remember." He glanced sideways, downwards at the chair he was still dependent on; "It's been coming back to me. Bits and pieces. I know what I saw. It was them, Lil'."

Lily swallowed, crumbling the newspaper and dropping it onto the table, forgotten, her attention completely on him; "What do you remember? What happened?"

Sirius was quiet a minute, thinking on it, his eyes not on her. Somewhere else. And he spoke quietly, when he finally answered; "I picked up his scent when I was in animal form. I kept finding it, on and off, for a few weeks. But this time was different; it was like he wanted me to follow him."

He gave a humourless laugh; "Because he did, mind you. I was just too damn stupid to see what was happening. So I followed him. Kept going and didn't realise until they had me surrounded that it was a trap."

He met her eyes then and caught the concern in them. He shrugged, rolling his eyes; "Dumb dog."

He drained the rest of the water in his glass, before he went on; "Anyway. They were there; creepy-ass masks and robes and all. I remember them. Barely even had a chance to morph back before the curses started coming."

"Sirius –"

"Hmph." He shook his head, his eyes blackening as he glared in a direction away from her, his mind elsewhere, on someone else; "Bastard led me right to them."

Lily swallowed down her own bitterness at the thought of Peter. Of the man who had willingly turned over their location, her son's life, to those monsters. Who had taken James from them and who now would take Sirius from them too if he had the chance.

She could barely even reconcile the timid, eager-to-please boy he had been only ten years before with the person he had become now.

Lily glanced at Sirius, who had become lost in his thoughts. His mind going somewhere darker, once again. The expression on his features so frequent now, ever since Peter's escape from Azkaban some months before. She wondered again if she should tell him what she knew, what Severus had told her. The true depths of Peter's betrayal; the prophecy.

The prophecy that was not about Harry.

There was no doubt in her mind that Sirius deservedto know. He had been far closer to Peter than she and, as she had been grudging coming to accept over the past year, Sirius was the primary father figure in Harry's life. He ought to know that he had been in danger; that their year in hiding had all been for him.

But, looking at Sirius now, at the darkness in his eyes and considering his current state of mind; the last thing she ought to do would be to add fuel to the fire. Sirius' thoughts regarding Peter were already murderous enough.

And, to add to that, there was no real way she could reveal the prophecy to him without disclosing where she had garnered the information from.

From Severus.

Sirius still wasn't aware of their friendship; that was one issue that prevented being able to reveal her source. And that was only the smaller issue.

Severus hadn't said whether or not it was something he wanted her to keep to herself. She guessed he would prefer that she did, though hadn't thought it appropriate to ask, considering the circumstances. Either way, revealing it would be a betrayal of confidence, even if he did not necessary expect her to keep it quiet.

And, furthermore, Sirius wasn't an idiot. She'd only have to mention the prophecy and Severus' name in the same conversation for him to connect the dots and realise that, yes, he had been right all along; Severus Snape had been a Death Eater during the war.

Much as Lily loved him, she didn't trust Sirius one bit with that piece of information.

Lily drew in a breath, returning to the issue at hand; "Have you told anyone else?"

He shook his head; "No. Not yet."

"Are you going to? The Ministry?"

Sirius looked contemplative; "I don't know. Maybe Dumbledore."

Dumbledore.

Lily still wasn't quite sure what to think about her old Headmaster anymore. The man whom she had admired so much as a child; who she had trusted with her family's life throughout those months in hiding. And, apparently, who didn't trust her enough to reveal the true reason for it. She didn't really understand why he had kept it from them, when the circumstances would have remained the same either way. They still would have been in hiding and, as far as she was concerned, they had the right to know that it was their baby in danger the whole time.

It was a mystery to her but it did make her surer about one thing she ought to keep in mind; don't bother going to Dumbledore for information when you need it.

Death Eaters were rising.

If that was the case, Lily was sure Dumbledore knew something about it.

But, she considered, maybe someone else did too.

* * *

"When Sirius was missing…you said you had connections."

It was strange, this newfound openness in their relationship that they had achieved now that the revelations about his past and the prophecy had taken place. Previously, their interactions had seemed isolated, almost an entirely different world to the reality that surrounded them. Their rekindled friendship an escape from it all; outside of their own time together he knew little about her life and she knew very little about his.

That had changed. It started out gradually; the odd comment here, when someone couldn't keep their troubles to themselves enough not to cause enquiry; the odd confidence shared there, when they would give in and reveal it.

But now, things were different. His role as a Death Eater and the subsequent reveal of the prophecy seemed to have opened, for lack of a better word, the floodgates.

For, now, he was becoming fairly certain he knew a great deal about what was going on in Lily's life. In the past few weeks he had learned more than he cared to know about Sirius Black's state of health and recovery, further insights into her relationship with her son, with whom she had finally appeared to manage to connect with properly, and, most of all, a very clear understanding of exactly where Lily's head was at these days.

And, for most of the past few weeks, her mind had been on the past. The Dark Lord. The war. Or, rather, though she didn't know it yet, the future.

Severus couldn't tell her, that much was obvious; he couldn't tell her that the Dark Lord was guaranteed to retur. While he had asserted to Dumbledore not so long ago that he was no longer the boy who had gone crawling to him for help during the war, he would never forget what the old man had done for him.

Lily would not be alive if Dumbledore hadn't helped him.

And if Lily had not lived…had she died because of something he had done…

Well, Severus wasn't entirely sure what would have happened but he was quite certain he wouldn't be where he is now. His life would be quite different.

He owed all of this to Dumbledore. All he had. Dumbledore had helped him, even if he had been less than warm about the arrangement in the beginning. Had allowed him the chance to fix his mistakes, his numerous mistakes, and had vouched for him when the time came; Azkaban or freedom.

At the time, Severus had not really been concerned either way about his own life. He had been tremendously grateful that Lily had survived, yes, but the dark depression that had gripped him during that final year of the war was still ever present at the time. Not to be driven away until sometime later, as time went on and purpose began to give his life meaning. If he was sent to Azkaban, as he deserved, back then he did not care.

He cared now, though.

Dumbledore had given him a second chance.

And he wouldn't break his own side of the bargain now, only because he suddenly had everything he had ever wanted.

Severus met Lily's eyes; well, almost everything.

What had she said?

Ah. Connections.

"Yes. I did." He confirmed.

"What did you mean by that?"

Severus cleared his throat, reaching for the next ingredient of the potion they were working on and tossed it carelessly into the potion; "Given what you now know about me, I think you already know."

Lily only gave an uncertain nod and went quiet, as she seemed to think on the response.

It was almost freeing, being able to speak with her so candidly. Gone were the days when he had had to conceal so much from her; in the recent past, yes, when she had not known about his role in the war but also the distant. All the way back to Hogwarts and even before.

When they were still little children, back in Spinners End, she had asked him if it had made a difference to be muggleborn. When he had stated no, it didn't, that little lie, meant to reassure her, set the foundation for seven more years of omitted truths and guilt and misunderstandings and, eventually, real lies, which all culminated in that day.

Perhaps if he had been straightforward with her from the beginning, if they had just talked with one another openly, then –

Severus broke off from the thoughts, useless as they were, for there was no changing any of it now.

They could speak with one another now, that is what mattered. Things were different; things had changed. They, he mused with some amusement, had actually grown up.

Severus heard Lily uttered a quiet 'muffliato' before she went on, even though they were the only two people in the room.

"Do they know about you?"

He glanced at her.

"The others. Do they know you defected?"

Severus gave a quick, single shake of his head; "No."

Silence.

He shrugged, looking away from her as he focused back on the potion ingredients he was preparing; "I suppose there may be speculation. I know several of them question Regulus' loyalties. Being a close friend of his, I doubt that I would escape the same consideration."

"So, if something was going on. If they were…if they were planning anything, you'd know about it?"

Severus met her eyes, looking at her closely, his curiosity piqued at the question as he realised that this wasn't just another of their casual talks; "Has something happened?"

His mind inadvertently went to the prophecy, to Neville Longbottom, to Harry Potter. Dumbledore had not yet revealed anything regarding the memory he had extracted from the boy to him; he wasn't sure if that meant the efforts had been futile or if there was something he was concealing from him.

Both were just as likely as the other.

Lily turned to face him more fully, giving up on the pretence that she was focused on the potion they were working on; "It's Sirius."

Severus forced himself not to grunt or sneer or scowl.

In some matters, he had grown up, he mused. His feelings about the mutt, he doubted would ever change, no matter how many years passed.

"He remembers what happened when he was away." Lily glanced in the direction of the door, her volume dropping slightly as she went on, meeting his eyes again; "He said it was Death Eaters."

Severus tensed, unable to help himself.

"I don't know anything about that."

His tone was snappier than he intended, surprising both of them.

Lily's shoulders dropped and her eyes flashed slightly in her indignation; "I didn't think that you did."

He supposed there were some raw nerves.

"What I meant to ask, was if you had heard anything about the Death Eaters forming again? I mean, if they don't doubt your loyalties then wouldn't you be…I don't know, invited or something?" Lily paused, seeming to contemplate the question with a bemused frown; "I don't know how these things work."

Severus' lips twitched at her words; "No, Lily. I was not 'invited'." He resumed his cutting, as he went on to add; "When the war was going on, there were a great number of people under the Dark Lord's control and not all had the opportunity to interact with one another. It was almost impossible to know outside of your own small circle just who was loyal to the Dark Lord and who was on the other side."

He added the ingredient to the cauldron and reached for the next.

"Add to that the fact that Death Eaters were masked; there were some imprisoned following the war that even I was surprised to learn had been loyal to him."

He met her eyes and then shrugged; "And also some whom I was not surprised about, despite never having had the opportunity to see them in the Dark Lord's circles myself."

"Oh." Lily shrugged; "I just presumed. I remember hearing during the trials…others would offer up one another's names in exchange from leniency."

Severus hesitated, wondered if she had ever heard his name come up during such trials. Although she knew the truth now, anyway, so it was irrelevant.

"Hence the reason for secrecy."

Lily seemed to accept the information, albeit with disappointment, and as she turned her attention back to the potion at hand, Severus made a mental note that he would have to relay the new information to Dumbledore. If Sirius Black had, indeed, been attacked by a group of Death Eaters rather than just Pettigrew alone, then Lily's concerns were not unfounded.

Death Eater activities weren't something he had the luxury to ignore, even if they were unconnected to the Dark Lord.

Although, judging by the slight sting that now accompanied the return of the vibrant Dark Mark branded on his forearm, he doubted that it was all just a coincidence.

* * *

Sirius had wanted to go to Dumbledore immediately after his realisation, following his discussion with Lily, but he had already promised Harry that he would accompany him into Diagon Alley that afternoon to look at broomsticks, after he had told him he could have a new one for his birthday the following month.

They went alone. Just the two of them.

While he and Remus appeared to be mending the rift between them since his return, he still resented that he had become so dependent on him due to his present condition. As such, when Lily had suggested that he ask Remus to accompany them he had resolutely refused; he could handle himself for one afternoon, surely.

It was not as if he didn't have magic on his side, after all.

And, besides, he hadn't had the chance to spend any proper time with Harry since he'd returned. And he really didn't want his Godson to start seeing him as incapable, an invalid.

Already, the boy had taken to making him sandwiches, offering him glasses of water, offering to fetch the Daily Prophet for him when it was merely a few feet away.

"Mum was really, really mad." Harry was talking about an event during the time he was away; when he, along with Malachi Redway, his nephew whom he had never met, had gone searching for him. The story was vaguely familiar, as if Harry had already told him about it before, though Sirius couldn't recall it.

He listened, regardless, smiling and nodding along with the boy's enthusiasm as they made their way through Diagon Alley. He ignored the pitying looks in his direction as he passed the various witches and wizards in the street; it was a busy Saturday afternoon.

"You're Malachi's uncle too, you know," Harry pointed out, as they rounded a corner; "He looks like you."

Sirius' smile became a little more forced, a little tighter at the statement. He had never seen Regulus' son. Had never really seen Regulus properly for years though, he remembered, his younger brother had come to see him while he had been recovering in St Mungo's.

At first, Sirius had wondered if it had just been a dream. The torture he had endured from the Death Eaters not only rendering his memory of them somewhat broken and temporarily unable to recall, but the events which had followed in the immediate aftermath.

But, after time, the memory had come back to him. He had woken up the first time and it hadn't been Harry, or Lily, or Remus who had been there with him then. It had been Regulus.

He remembered the startled look in his brother's eyes when their eyes had met; how the younger man had stumbled from the room without a word, though he had been speaking quite comfortably to him before he had realised Sirius was awake.

"- to Professor Snape's room."

Sirius was abruptly yanked from his thoughts at the escape of Snape's name from his Godson's lips.

Sirius looked at Harry sharply; "Snape? What…what was that Harry?"

Harry looked at him, frowningly, the little boy realising that his Godfather hadn't been listening; "Professor Snape. Dumbledore sent us to his room until mum came to get me."

Why would Dumbledore send the boys to Snape's room, of all places?

Sirius didn't realise he'd voiced the thought out loud until Harry shrugged and answered, disinterestedly, as they carried on walking; "Because they were looking for us together."

Sirius vaguely wondered why it wasn't Regulus looking for the boys with Lily, while Harry went on.

"Do you know Professor Snape? He's really…" Harry broke off, looking like he was trying to think of a word to describe him.

Sirius could offer a huge number of less-than-flattering adjectives to describe Snape, at the best of times, but was almost dumbstruck by the fact that here was his Godson attempting to find some of his own. When, when and why would Harry ever have the opportunity to meet with the man?

His immediate thoughts reminded him that Harry had just said that it was Snape's room where he was sent to when he had run away; that the subsequent meeting would more than adequately provide the opportunity to make an acquaintance with him long enough to form an opinion.

But something in his gut told him it was something else; that he didn't know something.

"Harry, how do you even know him?"

Harry, who had still been attempting to come up with a word to describe Snape, met his eyes. He shrugged; "I don't know him. Mum does though."

Sirius hesitated, before tilting up his chin; "From work?"

Harry looked contemplative for a moment and then nodded; "Uh huh. They work together." He hurried away from him, spying broomstick in a nearby shop window. He pressed his nose against the glass, pointing at one; "Look at that one, Uncle Sirius!"

Sirius approached more slowly, thoughtfully; "I see it."

Harry gave him a bright smile, looked back in the window, and then back at Sirius; "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Harry," he forced a smile and ruffled his hair.

Harry looked at him, thoughtfully for a moment, before he nodded in a child-like, dramatic understanding; "Uncle Remus doesn't like him either."

Puzzle pieces began to click together for him then; if Remus had formed an opinion, if Harry knew about Snape, something was going on. And he had a pretty good inkling of what it was.

He remembered Snape from Hogwarts; not just the skulking, brooding, dangerous boy he had been in the later years but also the little twerp from the train. Who had spoken about Slytherin so proudly as little Lily Evans had listened on, eagerly.

And he remembered a few months before, back when Lily had just started the Fellowship, a conversation the two of them had had with Julia when the latter had revealed that Snape had been helping her with…whatever it was they were doing.

Something Lily hadn't bothered to disclose; even that Snape was working with her at all.

Harry went on, oblivious to his thoughts with the innocence of the child that he was, turning back to look inside the shop window; "Mum likes him though. She likes him a lot."

"How do you know that?"

Harry glanced at him over his shoulder; "She smiles at him bigger than she does at anyone else."

Before Sirius could respond or even form a thought in response to the statement, the ground shook beneath them and a roar erupted from one of the buildings nearby, and he and Harry found themselves thrown forward; he from his chair to the ground and Harry through the window he had been peering into, as rocks and debris showered down around them.

Suddenly, it was chaos.

Screams were everywhere but he heard them dully, through the ringing in his ears after the explosion; he reached up and grasped the edge of the sill, crying out his Godson's name; "Harry!"

He hauled himself up, ignoring the cutting of glass into his arms and chest as he pulled himself up the ledge to look into the broken window. Harry was sprawled out on the counter on the other side but he was conscious. Shaken but breathing; blood oozing from several cuts on his face and shoulders.

Seeing Sirius seemed to shake the boy from his shock and a little sob escaped him; "Uncle Sirius?"

He cursed his inability to stand, instead just reaching a hand to him and drawing him out and down onto the street outside as terrified witches and wizards ran around them; the screams continuing as they did so.

"Over here," Sirius' voice was coarse, as he attempted to crawl into a little nook nearby, encouraging Harry to get in to the small space first. He awkwardly drew himself in after him, shielding him with his body from the chaos outside.

Sirius quickly checked over him, thankful he had managed not to lose his wand in the confusion, and cast the basic healing charms he had learnt during his time in the Order. They weren't advanced but they were enough to seal up the cuts that lined Harry's face to stop the bleeding.

It was only then that he allowed himself to take in the events going on around them; spotted the robes, the masks that had plagued his dreams for the past few nights as his memory returned to him.

Death Eaters.

Some people were fighting back; most were running.

The street was awash with curses; some bodies falling.

There were screeches of laughter; yells; hailing cries 'to the Dark Lord'.

And then, with a final spell shot towards the sky, the haunting appearance of the Dark Mark in the sky above.

* * *

The Foundation was still abuzz with talk of the attack in Diagon Alley several days later.

Not only talks of what had happened; the wounded and the dead. But also of the implications and what it meant for the future.

Concerns that had been plaguing Lily for the past few months were now shared by everyone.

Well, not quite everyone. There appeared to be a number of sceptics. Some who dismissed the whole incident as just a band of idiots setting to stir up trouble. After all, who could really believe that You-Know-Who was going to return, as some rumours suggested, or that some other had risen to take his place, as others suggested, and intended on finishing what he had started.

Even to those who feared it, the very idea was almost unthinkable.

Lily glanced over at Severus, who had been distracted and distant since she had seen him on the Monday. Not unreasonably so.

A group of protestors, people who had previously been adamant that Regulus Black ought to be in Azkaban for his role as Death Eater, had now decided to take a more public stance on the matter, following the events on Saturday. As such, the group were currently situated outside the fence of the building and all of them were determined that what they had to say would be heard.

Cries of "Regulus Black out!" and "We Want Justice!" rang in Lily's ears as she had made her way through the gates, her arm protectively around Harry's shoulders.

As a result of the disorder, productivity levels within the Foundation had dipped while security measures had heightened.

Lily spoke quietly when Severus was close enough to hear; "Sev?"

He looked up sharply from the parchment he was reading, meeting her eyes, and she caught a glimpse of the agitation and distraction in his.

She glanced around the others in the room, quickly, noting most of the small group were involved in conversations of their own. About Diagon Alley. Death Eaters. You-Know-Who.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was still quiet.

Severus' eyes seemed to soften at her concern, though his single nod was tight, almost forced; "Quite."

And then he whizzed on by, once again lost in a haze of agitation and distractedness, and Lily noticed that the patience he appeared to have with her was not something he granted so willingly to the others in the room when they had enquiries of their own.

He snapped at two of them, ignored several others and wouldn't engage in any attempts at conversation. Even when she spoke to him, he responded with single word answers before carrying on with whatever it was he was doing, and it wasn't until she'd casually mentioned that Sirius had been there in Diagon Alley that Severus suddenly snapped to attention.

"Black was there?"

"Oh. Um, yes."

She was surprised to find his focus so completely on her for the first time that week.

"Did he see what happened?"

"A little. There was the explosion. And he saw the Death Eaters cast the Dark Mark."

"Did he recognise any voices? Perhaps from…" He hesitated, glancing around the room. No one was paying them any attention, all of them involved in work or conversations of their own. He cast the incantation anyway; "Muffliato. Perhaps from his own attack?"

Lily gave a slight shake of her head; "No. I don't think so. But it all happened so fast. And he was trying to look over Harry's –"

"Your son was there?"

Lily nodded.

"Was he hurt?"

"A little. Cuts and bruises but he's fine now."

He held her look for a moment, seeming to think on what she had said, before he nodded and glanced away. Seeming to close in on himself once again.

"How is Regulus Black?" He met her eyes. When he said nothing she added; "I haven't seen him at the Foundation this week. And, with what's going on…" They both looked in the direction of the window. Though the protestors couldn't really be seen.

"He's aware of what's happening," Severus eventually said, still turned away from her. How could he not? It had been in the Prophet since the protests had started three days ago. Severus indicated at the parchment she had been working on. She nodded and he lifted it, glancing over it; "I suggested it best that he work from home for the time-being."

"Harry mentioned Malachi hasn't been at the Centre this week."

Severus nodded, slowly; "It's better that he doesn't hear about it." He handed the parchment back to her; "Try Dittany."

Lily nodded, with only a quick glance at the parchment; "If you need anything…"

He only looked at her and then the distant manner with which he had been carrying himself seemed to finally leave him. The side of his lips tugged in a slight smile; "I know."

She smiled in return, though it was almost shy, ducking her head slightly under his gaze, and then she almost rolled her eyes at herself. It was odd, infuriating, that she had started out trying to recognise any unusual behaviour on Severus' side and had suddenly found it was her own that was questionable.

All Julia's fault, she reminded herself with some irritation.

She was certain Severus had noticed it. While they'd so far seen one another far less since all the revelations in February, and there had been plenty of incidents to keep them busy in the meantime, the times that they had seen one another, she'd found herself almost nervous when she was around him.

At first, she'd told herself that it was nervousness that perhaps Julia was right; maybe Severus was interested. Now, though, she was quite sure he wasn't. Severus behaviour was no different from how it had always been; he appeared to care for her, yes. But no more so than he seemed to care for Regulus, who was also a friend of his.

Therefore, his attention and kindness to her, while it may be seen as being more so than he showed to his other work fellows, was no more than his usual behaviour when it came to friendship.

So her nervousness was obviously down to something else.

"Lily."

She met his eyes.

"Is…did Black feel that he was targeted directly in any way during the attack?"

She paused, considering the question; "No. He didn't say anything that would suggest that."

There was a silence and she was left wondering at the implication; "You think he might have been?"

He looked at her, then his eyes softened reassuringly; "No. I was just considering the possibility." At her questioning look he added; "The likelihood that Pettigrew was involved."

Of course she had thought about that; obviously Peter would have been involved in some way. She had little doubt that it was the same group in Diagon Alley that had attacked Sirius previously. Although Sirius had said nothing that suggested he thought he and Harry were being directly sought out that day.

Instantly the focus of her nervousness switched; "He – Sirius, that is – he's still not recovered. There hasn't been any noticeable change for the past few weeks." He's still in that damned chair. "If they had come after him…and Harry was with him –"

"Lily."

Severus hand was suddenly on her forearm where it rested on the counter.

She met his eyes, having been lost in a panicked haze of her own at the thought of Death Eaters after Sirius. Hurting her son. The same son who Peter had been willing to sacrifice once before.

"Don't upset yourself with such thoughts. They're both fine."

She released a breath she didn't know she was holding, giving him a slight smile and a shrug; "You know me. I'm a worrier."

He smiled then and the hand on her arm squeezed gently, and she felt her stomach flutter a little at the pressure. Puzzlingly so. It wasn't a sensation she had felt in a long, long time.

Butterflies.

Lily's eyes lingered on his, though she guessed the puzzlement she was feeling was evident in her expression, because Severus' look turned questioning. But before either of them could say anything further, a voice sounded next to them, startling them both from one another's gaze.

"Excuse me."

Heart was standing there and Lily noticed her glance curiously at Severus' hand, where it was holding her arm. Severus hastily snatched his hand back, straightening up as he did so, looking both irritated and uncomfortable. He turned away from them both, straightening up some books that lay on the countertop, her books, and she heard him quietly utter the 'muffliato' counter spell under his breath.

"We'd better start heading to St Mungo's." Heart went on, a slight smile on her lips as she glanced from Lily, to Severus, and back again; "When you're ready."

Lily nodded, casting a quick glance Severus' way; "I'm ready." She reached for her cloak; "I'll see you…"

Severus only nodded, not looking at her, and she felt oddly off-balance as she made her way from the room.

* * *

The days at the Learning Centre were long and dull without Malachi there to keep him company.

Harry wished that Ron was there too. He hadn't seen him in a long time. Sirius used to take him to see the Weasleys all the time, before he'd gotten hurt. And before that, when he'd been missing, neither his mum or Uncle Remus had time for visiting people.

He glanced around the other children that were scattered around the courtyard, most of them playing or talking with one another.

He hadn't really made any other friends yet; he and Malachi were quite happy just playing together and talking about Uncle Sirius and their dads and his mum. And, sometimes, Professor Snape, if Malachi had any new information that he thought was interesting.

Harry hadn't seen him and his mum together since his Uncle Sirius had been in St Mungo's; maybe they weren't even friends anymore?

"Give it back!"

Harry looked sharply at the indignant tone.

A small group of three children, Goyle one of them, were squared off against another boy. Harry thought his name was Corner.

Harry didn't like Goyle, ever since he'd told him that real Wizards didn't go to muggle school during one of his first days there. He knew it wasn't true; his mum had gone to muggle school when she was little. So had his Uncle Remus. So Harry knew he was lying and was just being mean and what he really meant was that he thought Harry wasn't a real wizard.

He wasn't sure why though. He hadn't done anything to Goyle before. He hadn't even met him.

Harry was startled from his thoughts when the smaller boy, Corner, hit the ground. It took a second for Harry to realise one of the others had actually hit him.

A small crowd began to form and Harry rose from where he was sitting on the cobbles to hurry over.

"Finders keepers." It was one of the other boys, Zabini, who spoke.

Corner scrambled to his feet, looking flushed with humiliation; "It's not mine, it's my dad's! Give it back!"

Harry noticed the pocket watch clutched in Goyle's hand.

"Trade," Zabini launched the ball he was holding into Corner's stomach, making the other boy double over with a winded gasp as he caught it.

"I don't want your stupid ball." He threw it back. It hit Goyle in the face and Harry found himself grinning while some of the other children chuckled. Including Corner, who was pleased at the giggling approval of his peers.

Goyle threw the pocket watch to the ground with a small smash, instantly wiping the smile from Corner's face, and stepped towards him.

"Stay away from him!" Harry shouted, before he had a chance to think what he was doing. Thinking only how angry and upset he'd be if someone had smashed something of his Uncle's Sirius' when he'd trusted him with it.

Goyle's eyes turned to Harry instantly; in fact, all of the eyes in the vicinity turned towards him. Most of them hadn't even really heard him speak before.

"What are you gonna do about it, Potter?"

Harry felt suddenly panicked; he'd never been in a fight before. He didn't think he'd be any good. But he forced himself to put up a brave front; that's what Gryffindor's were supposed to be famous for, wasn't it? Well, he wanted to be a Gryffindor just like his Uncle Sirius and his mum.

"You can't just take other people's stuff. And you can't just hit people either!"

"Who taught you that, your mudblood mother?"

Harry, who had been preparing to fight back with words hesitated, frowning at the other boy; "My…what?"

The third boy, the other who had been with Goyle and Zabini just a moment ago, looked uncertain as well; "Uh, Goyle. You can't call them that."

Harry vaguely noted that others in the circle seemed split; some with the same confusion and bemusement he felt, others looking shocked and offended and, some, seeming to raise eyebrows or nod with approval at what had been said.

Mudblood, did he say? Harry had never heard that before.

"We can call them whatever we want. Filth, that's what my dad says they are."

Filth! Were they talking about his mum?

Harry felt rage build up within him.

"Filthy mudbloods, all of them."

Suddenly, the ball Goyle was holding exploded with a loud 'pop', startling everyone there into silence.

The silence continued for a few moments, while everyone seemed confused and tried to make sense of what had happened. Harry's rage had given way to shock, as he stared at the rubbery remains in Goyle's hands.

Goyle also looked shakenly down at his hands for a second, before he raised his eyes to Harry. The fury Harry had been feeling moments before was suddenly reflected in the other boy's eyes; "The little Half-Blood just –"

"What is going on out here?" A loud, authoritarian voice sounded from just outside the circle that had formed and children sprung apart as Mrs Gillan appeared, looking stern and more than a little displeased.

"What happened?"

Suddenly lots of children's voices spoke up all at once, and Harry just made out a few of them as he and Goyle continued to glare at one another.

"Goyle hit Corner!"

"He said mudblood!"

"Potter used magic!"

"Enough!" Mrs Gillan looked between Harry and Goyle, then at the other children; "Everyone back inside. Now."

The crowd dispersed, the children beginning to make their way back into the Centre. Harry made to follow but before he'd taken a few steps, her voice spoke again; "Except you, Mr Potter. Mr Goyle and Mr Corner, both of you wait here, too."

Harry stared at her, nervously for a minute, before he reluctantly made his way back towards her.

* * *

Regulus Black sat behind his desk, the parchments he had scattered out in front of him lying forgotten on the surface, as he listened to the sound of the chants and bellows coming from just outside the building. He couldn't make out anything of what was being said, it was more a distant rumbling, but he didn't have to hear it. He knew what they were saying.

He had walked through the crowd of protestors, who had become more animated, furiously so, upon his apparition just outside the gates of the Foundation. They had heckled him as he made his way through but, as yet, none of them had resorted to any sort of violence.

He supposed it was only a matter of time and was reflecting on that, disinterestedly, when the door to his office burst open without any customary knock.

"Regulus. I thought we agreed you would work from home this week."

Severus expression was stony as he regarded him, his words coming out as a statement, rather than a question.

Regulus met his eyes defiantly and shook his head; "I can't hide from them forever."

"Where is Malachi?"

"He's with Cissy."

"At least you had sense enough to shelter him from this nonsense." He waved a dismissive hand as he walked towards the window.

"It's hardly nonsense, Sev."

Severus stopped in his tracks and spun to face him, looking enraged; "Don't start with this again, Regulus! I won't have you going about thinking you owe these people anything."

Regulus glared back at him; "They probably lost people in the war. To Death Eaters."

"It was war!"

Regulus stared back at him.

Severus deflated somewhat and Regulus thought he caught a glimpse of Severus' own remorse over everything that had happened back then reflected in his eyes, before they hardened once again; "Besides, you've already given all you can give to them."

Regulus shook his head; "I know if it was you in my position you wouldn't be hiding away in your dungeons. You'd face them. You can't expect me to do any different."

"The only reason it is not me in your position, Regulus," Severus' tone was low and steady; "Is pure luck."

Regulus shrugged, pushing a piece of parchment around on the desk with the tip of his wand; "This is nothing more than what I deserve."

"Here was me thinking you'd finally grown up this past year."

Regulus looked up at him, furiously; "How is my being remorseful childish in any way?"

"Let it go, Regulus!" Severus snapped; "You can't sit here wallowing in self-pity. People look to you for leadership; this entire faculty is behind you. How are they supposed to believe you are anything other than guilty if you don't rise up and set the right example?"

"I am guilty!"

If anything, Severus' furious expression hardened further so that he was almost scowling.

Regulus glanced down; "And what example?"

"The whole point of setting up this Foundation in the first place; to help people move on with their lives."

Regulus met Severus' eyes.

"Isn't that what it was? To teach people to put their past losses behind them, their mistakes; to look to the future?"

"For them, Severus. The victims. Not me."

"Stop it." Severus practically spat the words; "Don't not reduce yourself to this because of them. You have faced more dangerous circumstances than these people could possibly imagine. Will have to do so again, very soon, if these circumstances are to be interpreted fully."

Regulus shook his head, looking away from him. As if that made him feel any better!

"If you allow yourself to appear weak, then the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, the real enemy will see straight through you."

Regulus drew in a breath, meeting Severus' eyes again but, before either could say anything further, there was a brusque knock on the door before it burst open and Lucius strode into the room.

"Ah, Severus. I'm glad you're here also." The blonde offered in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" Severus' previous fury with Regulus was suddenly redirected at the intruder; "Did you not think how this would look to those outside the gates?"

Lucius eyed him; "Do you think we should cower away like cowards, Severus?"

Severus pursed his lips together, eyes flashing with barely supressed rage.

Lucius, not one to be outmanoeuvred, turned more fully towards him; "Perhaps, while you are giving advice about appearances, I shall offer some insight of my own?"

Severus met his look, unblinkingly.

"How is Mrs Potter, these days?"

Regulus noticed it took a great deal of effort on Severus' part not to flinch.

"Did you happen to consider how that would look, perhaps to someone far more important than a bunch of babbling buffoons outside the Foundation gates?"

Severus gathered himself quickly, eyes narrowing; "What would you know of it."

"My wife has associations with the Foundation, Severus," Lucius responded, evenly, before adding in a clipped tone; "People talk."

Severus looked to be positively raging at Lucius' words, more so than Regulus had ever seen before, and he sighed, making to intervene before things began to escalate even further out of control.

"Did you have news, Lucius?"

Lucius appeared reluctant to break eye contact with Severus, not wanting to be the first to look away, but he guessed he knew Severus was not going to back down in that regard, so he turned to face Regulus.

"Yes." He walked further into the room, eyes on Regulus this time; "With the recent attack on Diagon Alley and the more covert attack on your brother that you mentioned, I was able to track down an associate who was…well, I suppose willingly would not be quite the correct term, but he did offer up some information."

"What information is that?" Severus spoke up behind him, his tone still tense from the earlier confrontation.

"Only that we should be very careful of our behaviour for the foreseeable future," with a pointed glance in Severus direction, he added; "And how it may be perceived."

Regulus felt his stomach drop, although the news was hardly unexpected; "Then…The Dark Lord's return is truly imminent?"

"He would neither confirm nor deny the possibility. I believe there may be some trouble; I do not know the particulars. It is not a hopeless case, though it is best we prepare ourselves for all scenarios. Prepare your stories. Your excuses."

Regulus could only stare at the desk, as the gravity of their situation truly hit him. He drew in a breath, forcing himself to meet Lucius' eyes and nodded at him; "Thanks, Lucius."

Lucius gave him a slight nod in return, his expression revealing sympathy for a moment, before he turned to make his way from the room. He raised an eyebrow at Severus on his way passed him but Severus only returned his look evenly. Resentment was very evident in his expression as he did so.

"I say it only for your own good, Severus."

And, without a goodbye, Lucius was gone.

Leaving the two men reeling in his wake.


	21. July 1987: Faith in You

"I don't know what happened. I was just looking at him and then the ball went poof! And exploded!"

Lily fought a smile at the wide eyed innocence in her son's expression, ignoring Sirius' grin from the corner of the room where he sat reading the Prophet, as Harry attempted to explain why she had been called to come and collect him early from the Centre that day.

"Harry. Things don't just go 'poof'. You had to have been very angry or very upset for that to happen."

Harry shrugged, looking down and shuffling his feet; "I was okay."

Lily frowned, touching a finger to his chin and tilting it upwards, making him look at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a dramatically wide-eyed look that made him smile and drop his eyes to the ground again; "What happened? Tell me everything."

He shook his head, scrunching up his nose; "It's okay."

"Ah ah."

He met her eyes.

"Tell me."

Harry gave an exaggerated breath; "They called you a mudblood."

Lily hesitated, stunned at the statement, not at all expecting a children's fight to be over something so…political. She cleared her throat and nodded; "I see."

Harry met her eyes, hesitantly, before swallowing and going on; "And…they said other stuff too."

Her eyes softened from the previous playfulness to understanding; "What did they say?"

Harry shrugged; "Um…they said, we were filth. And, uh, I think he called me a half-blood."

Lily nodded slowly, her eyes meeting Sirius', who was now looking over at them with concern. She looked back at her son, who was still shuffling his feet and looking at the floor, and pulled him into a tight hug, before she drew him over to sit on the couch nearby.

"Harry, do you know what it means?"

Harry shook his head, looking up at her with keen interest.

"A mudblood; it's someone whose mum and dad are muggles."

He seemed to think on that for a second before he frowned; "But…what's wrong with that?"

She smiled, shaking her head; "Nothing's wrong with it, Sweetheart. But, for some people, usually those who have mums and dads who were witches and wizards as well, they believe that they're better than people who come from muggle parents."

"But…why? It's just magic, it's the same for everyone, isn't it?"

"Don't try to make sense of it Harry," Sirius spoke up from behind them, drawing both their glances; "Some people are just born stupid." And then he rolled his eyes and made a face, making Harry smile widely and giggle.

"So, Goyle is just stupid?" Harry said, seeming to like the description for him.

"That's right."

"Sirius."

"What? You don't agree?"

Lily shot him a look, inwardly marvelling at the way he could always make a joke out of everything. Even serious issues, such as this one.

"I don't understand," Harry went on, after some further thought; "He said mudbloods are filth. Why do they think muggles are dirty? The kids I went to school with before were muggles, and the teachers, and they were nice to me."

Lily lifted her shoulders in a shrug; "I suppose it's because they don't know them."

"Ignorance, Harry. That's all it is."

Harry nodded, slowly, contemplating what she and Sirius had said, before he lifted his eyes back to hers; "So, Goyle is wrong?"

"Yes."

"And, I was right?"

Lily tilted her head, suspiciously; "Mhm."

"So, I can't get punished then, right? Because you only get punished when you do something wrong."

Lily could see Sirius shaking with silent laughter out the corner of her eye and she rolled her eyes; "You were right about that particular issue, yes. But you did try to get into a fight with the boy, didn't you?"

"But I was trying to help someone. Goyle and the other boys were picking on him. I was being brave!" He turned to Sirius; "Like you, Uncle Sirius. I wanted to be like a Gryffindor and stand up to the bullies."

Lily leaned back slightly, regarding Sirius curiously this time. Sirius gave her a shrug and a sheepish smile, before winking in Harry's direction; "You do that, little Lion Heart."

Lily rolled her eyes, reaching over and brushing the hair from Harry's forehead; "I suppose under the circumstances, punishment isn't warranted. This time." She turned his head so he was facing her again, away from where he was making faces at Sirius; "But no fighting at school from now on." She raised an eyebrow; "Understood?"

He nodded; "Uh huh."

At her smile, Harry smiled widely in return, before turning back in Sirius' direction as he wheeled himself over to them; "Are you a mudblood too, Uncle Sirius?"

"Harry," Lily quickly interrupted him; "You can't call people that. It's not an acceptable term, under any circumstances."

"Oh. Okay. Um…what are they called, then?"

"Muggleborns."

Harry nodded, slowly, his mouth forming the word without a sound, before he gave a firmer nod; "Muggleborns. Okay." He looked back at Sirius; "Are you a muggleborn, Uncle Sirius?"

"Pureblood," Sirius responded, rolling his eyes and pretending to tug on a noose around his neck. Harry snickered, before Sirius added more seriously; "Like your dad."

Harry's playful demeanour vanished at the mention of James and he pursed his lips together, then looked in Lily's direction; "And Uncle Remus?"

"A half-blood. Just like you."

Harry beamed, seeming pleased to hear one of his uncles was the same as him, and nodded, seeming satisfied with the conclusion of the conversation.

"So, purebloods are the bad people?"

"We are the bane of the Wizarding World."

Harry giggled; "Not you, Uncle Sirius!"

Sirius reached for him, grasping him by the sides; "Aha! I am the biggest and baddest of them all!" And he made a roaring sound, lifting Harry up into the air and dropping him onto his lap, tickling him mercilessly while Harry squealed and attempted to wriggle and kick himself free.

Lily laughed, shaking her head when Harry squealed and reached for her, begging for help; "As always in these circumstances, Sweetheart, you are on your own."

"No! Mum! Help me!" He squealed out between laughs and gasps for breath.

Lily laughed again as she stood and headed through to the kitchen, leaving the two of them to their tomfoolery.

* * *

Sirius tried not to dwell on the fact that playtime with Harry, now, was far more subdued than it had been before. Pretended not to notice the little moment of recognition in Harry's eyes when he'd realised he'd jumped just a little too far away, that Sirius couldn't get to him at all, that the chair was clipping the edge of the couch or the coffee table was blocking his way.

Harry recovered quickly, jumping up onto the arm of the couch, just within reach, and jumping over the back just before Sirius could grasp at him again.

Although his Godson put on a good show of having fun, Sirius knew that it didn't really live up to the same levels of excitement as it had in the past. Before, they would quite happily rough and tumble, Harry would be tossed in the air now and again, Sirius would chase him around the room.

Not so, now.

Sirius pushed away that burning hate for Peter that rose up in his gut.

Later, he told himself, he would make the rat pay for all he had done to them.

It was just a matter of time.

Sirius glowered into the fireplace that night, still contemplating it after Harry had excused himself and headed up to his room. Probably to find something a bit more entertaining to do, rather than humour Sirius' feeble attempts at horseplay, he couldn't help but muse.

And the combination of considering how useless he was to his Godson now, another consequence of Peter Pettigrew's existence, with the connected concerns about Death Eaters and Dark Marks and, now, the exposure of Harry to bloodline prejudice at school eventually led him back to a piece of information the little boy had dropped into conversation just a few days before.

Severus Snape.

At Remus' insistence, Sirius had pushed aside his concerns about the man several months ago. It hadn't been too difficult to do. Peter had escaped not long after he'd first heard about him again and then there had been all the trouble with Harry and then he was gone.

He figured or, rather, hoped that Remus was right; Lily could handle herself well enough not to get drawn in by…what? Severus Snape's charms.

Sirius snorted at the thought. Surely Harry was mistaken in thinking the two were friends.

There was only one way to find out; so, he asked her.

Lily tensed almost instantly just at the mention of his name. She glanced over her shoulder from where she stood in the kitchen, putting away the dinner plates; "Sorry?"

"I said, Harry told me you and Snape have been spending a lot of time together."

It wasn't entirely the truth but he couldn't very well say; "Hey, Harry says you like Severus Snape. A lot. Please discuss."

Lily was hesitant as she considered his words and he thought she was either going to snap and tell him it was none of his business or ignore his statement all together, like she would likely have done in the past. Instead she nodded; "Yes." She carried on with what she was doing, pulling open a drawer and putting away the cutlery as she spoke; "We work together." There was a pause, in which she glanced at him out the corner of her eye, before she added, without any hesitancy at all this time; "And we're friends."

Sirius was so taken aback by the straightforwardness of her response that he found himself speechless for a moment. The casual way with which she had declared her friendship with the man throwing him off balance; the fact of the matter also not leaving him feeling all that great either.

Sirius cleared his throat, suddenly at a loss for words after having expected a confrontational response, and already having his defences up in preparation; "Friends?" He repeated.

"That's right."

She wasn't even looking at him, carrying on with what she was doing.

"Lily."

She met his eyes then.

"Have you…you do realise…Lil', for Merlin's sake, he was a Death Eater!"

Lily narrowed her eyes, shaking her head; "You don't know that."

"How can you be so blind! He's friends with my brother, remember? And Lucius Malfoy! Both were proven to have been involved back then; you can't seriously think Snape didn't go along with them. He was the worst of them all! All those crazy spells -"

She only shook her head, looking away, not seeming to want to even address the issue or, rather, the fact that Severus Snape was most definitely a damned Death Eater only five, six years ago.

Obviously she was softer on the man because of some residual empathetic feelings, more like pity, that she had felt for him back when they were all kids. She'd been friends with the git for a while back at Hogwarts, he remembered.

Ah.

"Are you forgetting where friendship with Snape got you before?"

Lily met his eyes, darkly.

"Crying your eyes out in the girls dormitory while Snape slithered around outside our common room, that's where. That Goyle kid Harry's on about isn't the first slimy git to call you a…" he hesitated at the word, not quite angry enough to throw it out there.

Her eyes narrowed but she still didn't rise to the bait; instead, she spoke with deliberate precision; "Sirius. Grow up."

She turned away from him and Sirius noticed her clench a fist, before she reached for a cloth and ran it under the tap and began washing down the window. Unnecessarily. It was an odd habit of hers; whenever she was agitated she started doing muggle chores.

Which at least told him that she was agitated.

He rolled his chair over to her, hating the fact that he was half her size and had to look up at her when he spoke; "Lil', listen to me. He's dangerous."

He heard a puff of air come out her nose, a humourless smile on her lips, before she turned away from him and he suddenly felt himself become angry, as she took a few steps away. What was this? Since when didn't she fight or argue or square off with him when they didn't agree with one another.

Since he ended up in this fucking chair, that's when!

Sirius scowled and flung his arms up, grasping the edges of the island counter and pulled himself upwards; pulled himself until he was almost upright, his arms straining under his weight, ignoring Lily's concerned voice and turning furious eyes at her.

"Don't walk on egg shells around me, Lily," he growled; "We're gonna have this out. What the hell are you thinking, even spending time with him? You forgetting the hell those people put you and James through that year? Forgetting what they've done to James, to us, to me?"

"That was Peter."

"Wake up!" he almost shouted; "It was all of them! It was probably Snape that told them to get to Peter in the first place; go after the weak one. Snape knew Peter was the one they could get to."

"He wouldn't!"

"You're joking," he gaped at her; "You can't seriously be that naïve. He knew us, Lily, he hated us! I bet he was fucking rejoicing when You-Know-Who sent them after James! I can just imagine -"

"Sirius, you don't know that! You don't know anything!"

"What! What don't I know?" Sirius was shouting now, they both were; "What dragonshit has he been feeding you, huh? The guy's a liar, he's a creep, he would say anything -"

"Just shut up, Sirius!" Lily squeezed her eyes shut, running a hand through her hair; "I'm not listening to this."

Dammit, didn't she get that he was trying to protect her? He couldn't just let her go running around with a, pretty much, known Death Eater, especially not now, not when they were rising again. It wasn't safe, not for her, not for Harry.

James would turn in his grave if he let that happen.

Sirius winced at his thoughts, mentally reminding himself that James wasn't in a grave. But that wasn't the point; soon Lily very well could be if she didn't stay the hell away from that man.

He wanted to grab her, give her a shake and tell her to get a grip, but his knuckles were white just from keeping himself upright so that he could be eye-level with her; even if she was pretty much avoiding all eye contact with him at all now. Shaking her head, looking at the floor, the wall, anywhere but him.

"Lily." She met his eyes. "Sorry, but you don't have a choice. You have to listen to me; Severus Snape was a Death Eater. I know it and you know it too. Even if you won't admit it to yourself, you know. It's not safe for you to be around him. Especially not now."

"Sirius –"

"You see what's going on, Lil'. Death Eaters; Dark Marks; attacks in Diagon Alley. You know how it goes. It'll be the muggles soon; the muggleborns." He held her eyes with his own; "It's happening again."

Lily looked like she wanted to say something, tell him something.

He had the sudden realisation that she was holding something back from him, some secret, but when she spoke she only said; "Just trust me, Sirius."

"Lil' –"

It took all of his restraint not to scream back at her to trust him; to trust that he knew Snape would hurt her. Even if he didn't do it himself, even if it was someone else. Sirius knew what had happened to Regulus' son's mother.

"No. No, I can't. You're not thinking clearly! He's got you…I don't know…you need to just see…think about…"

Sirius knew the battle was lost when she only stared back at him, her resolution evident in her expression. She knew something, something she wasn't sharing, and that only made Sirius more furious because he was pretty sure whatever it was she thought she knew was some pure, utter crap that Snape had fed her. Lies she had bought from him.

He drew in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down, maybe that would make her listen, make her understand; "You know how I feel about the guy, Lil'."

She nodded; "I know." She lifted her chin; "But you don't know him."

And that was that.

* * *

"You seem a little on edge."

Lily had found him in the gardens where he had gone to escape any unwanted visitors. From students. From colleagues. From Lucius. From Regulus.

Severus had been so wound up the previous evening that he had spent the night in his chambers at Hogwarts, not even alerting any of the other professors to his presence.

Regulus' attitude towards everything that was happening was infuriating him. If he didn't learn to toughen up, to be strong, the Dark Lord was going to see straight through him when he returned. Regulus was going to wind up dead.

And what concerned Severus even more was that Regulus didn't even seem to care. Not about his own life, anyway. Not even when he had a young child at home who needed him.

Regulus seemed determined to be defined only by the mistakes he had made in the past and Severus didn't know what he could say or do to make him let go.

And then there had been Lucius.

Severus didn't know what was going on with himself and Lily. Nothing at all, as far as he could tell. But he did know that whatever Lucius had heard would have been some embellished rumour or other that his colleagues had conjured up and sent out into the world.

This was why Severus hated people.

What right did others have to judge, to gossip about, to influence other people's behaviour, when it was absolutely none of their business. Did these people not realise the effect their careless words had, that their trivial, simple-minded witterings actually had consequences on other people's lives.

He supposed they didn't.

People were inherently idiotic by nature.

Severus sighed, trying to calm down; aware that he had been more than just a little on edge these past couple of weeks, as Lily was now suggesting.

He reached up, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, and gave her a nod; "I suppose so."

"Mind if I sit?"

Lily indicated the grass next to him, where he had been sitting for the past hour or so, working through some books.

Lily wasn't one of the people he had been avoiding. He welcomed her company, as always, but now the thought didn't give him much comfort. Were people really still watching them, judging them, reporting back their findings to their other colleagues, as if their relationship was some sort of headlines news?

Pathetic, the lot of them.

They would be sorely disappointed.

Severus gave her a nod, pushing aside some of the books that were next to him. They were out of sight from any prying eyes here, anyway.

Severus wondered how Lily had come across him here, so out of the way from the building, and noted she didn't seem inclined to give a reason to want to see him; no questions or enquiries. Instead she just settled next to him and leaned back, balancing some of her weight on her knuckles as she looked out over the maze a little bit ahead.

Had she actually come looking for him?

Severus pushed the thought away, thinking; why would she?

And then, almost instantly; well, why wouldn't she? Weren't they friends?

He sighed, rolling his eyes at his own confusing thoughts, and when Lily didn't seem inclined to say anything, he turned his attention back to his book.

It was a few minutes before Lily spoke again.

"Severus?"

"Hm?"

There was a pause and her voice was quiet; "Are you scared?"

Severus froze, eyes on the page in front of him. When he finally lifted his head, she was looking at him curiously, concern evident in her eyes. Concern and affection; two things he wasn't really used to seeing from anyone.

He didn't say anything as he didn't really know what to say.

At his silence she drew in a breath; "It's happening again." He lowered his eyes and it wasn't until he looked back at her again that she asked, quietly; "Isn't it?"

Severus shouldn't answer, shouldn't say anything. It would do no good for her to be afraid; to be waiting, just like he was, for that moment to come. When suddenly everyone would know.

But he could tell by the look in her eyes that she already did know, that she was already afraid, just like he was. And she didn't need him to tell her or even to deny it, so much as just let her know that he was there with her.

He was.

Merlin, he would always be.

If she wanted him.

"It seems so."

He expected her to be scared, expected to see the fear he felt himself reflected in her eyes. Instead, her eyes softened and he caught something in them, a warmth, a tenderness that almost made him catch his breath.

And then she gave him a small smile. It wasn't a smile of happiness but something else. Something he didn't really understand.

Severus had no idea what it meant, had no idea what it was she was thinking. Only knew that what he had said had been right, that he had said what she needed to hear.

And when she held out her hand, he took it, returning the squeeze hers gave his with one of his own.

* * *

Lucius' warnings had been unfounded.

There was no reason for Severus to be worried.

Whatever his own feelings may be, Lily was still very much Potter's; as much as the thought made him sick to the stomach, it was the truth. And thus, any concern over what Lucius thought, over what their colleagues believed they could see, was a simple waste of energy.

It would be foolish of him to alter his behaviour in any manner, in order to avoid speculation over a situation that would never come to pass in a million years.

That was what Severus had managed to rationalise in his mind, in the days following Lucius' visit.

And yet, despite all rational thought, he did start altering his behaviour in order to try to limit speculation.

It was not only concern over how it would appear to the Dark Lord. He could perhaps even get around such interest from his old Master, if the question of their acquaintance were to come up. He did ask him to spare Lily after all, it was not as if such a connection would come out of the blue. He could easily rationalise the acquaintance should the question ever arise.

After all, one of the skills he had become most accomplished in since turning to Dumbledore those years ago was lying.

It did not matter. Rationalising did not matter. At the bottom of it all, the fact remained the same. He did not want the question of Lily Potter to ever arise in the Dark Lord's mind.

He wanted her completely off his radar.

And, on a more surface level, even if the imminent return of the Dark Lord hadn't been hanging over him, Severus wasn't particularly happy with the spectacle his colleagues had made out of it all. He did not care, before, when they had spoken about him with the others; Dana Wishbone had hardly been discrete about the whole thing, after all.

But this was different. Lily was different. Lily was…

It didn't matter what she was.

She wasn't his, therefore any speculation at all on their part was inappropriate and uncalled for.

Highly unprofessional.

As if he didn't have enough to deal with!

He would put an end to this nonsense once and for all. For the sake of Lily's safety. And his own sanity.

His resolve to limit their time together would be easy for him to carry out.

With the exception of their lunches, which had become sporadic at best, their time together was pretty limited as it was. They would only be in one another's company during particular times when it was necessary to work together for Project Dorado; these times could not be reduced. That was work.

Though, his mind sneered at him, it would probably help if he could keep his hands to himself during those times. He remembered Heart's curious glance at the two of them when he had attempted to offer comfort some weeks before.

The other times they spent together were often unplanned, just when they happened to come across one another. Severus could reduce such circumstances from occurring by simply remaining in his office as much as possible or, even, if he was not needed in the building, by returning to Hogwarts and doing his research for the Foundation there.

The sound of children's voices and running feet overhead was something he could endure. If he must.

Yes, it would have been rather easy, indeed, to limit their time together by just avoiding her completely.

Easy, that is, if Lily's own behaviour had not changed from their previously established patterns.

Severus didn't really know what he had said or done that day on the grass when she had found him, when she had asked him if dark times were coming, if she ought to be afraid and he had told her yes. But something had changed since that encounter.

He couldn't quite explain it. It was just something he felt.

And her behaviour only seemed to back that up.

While Severus was going out of his way to avoid her, Lily seemed to be going out of her way to seek him out.

That was unexpected.

And the result of this odd game of cat-and-mouse was several awkward encounters such as; happening upon one another suddenly in places where he would never expect to see her; awkward, mumbled excuses from him about 'prior engagements'; him noticing her first in the distance and abruptly changing course in order to avoid her.

Severus had hoped that she wouldn't question it; that she wouldn't even notice.

As always, his hopes came up short. For him, hopes were more a jinx. Always the opposite happened, whatever the subject.

Lily clicked onto his behaviour within, oh, one or two weeks.

"Sev!"

Severus almost cringed as she called his name from behind; his nickname. He really wished she wouldn't shout. He glanced around at the faces of those around them, as he looked over his shoulder. Yes, as expected, people had heard and spared their own precious time to make mental notes of the moment.

Paranoia. You're just being paranoid, he told himself.

Lily smiled brightly at him, as she walked up to him, a lightness to her step that seemed to be the norm for her these days; "Hey. I haven't seen you around for a few days."

"Oh…I…have been busy."

She nodded; "I thought that." She reached into her robe, pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment; "I've been working on the ingredient proposals. Just looking into the interactions between certain medications." She shrugged; "I think it's all right but I wondered if you wouldn't mind having a look?"

Severus didn't want to say no. There was a little ache, somewhere inside, that told him he missed her company. He wanted to help, if only to spend a little more time with her. Nonetheless; "Lily, I'm sure it's fine. Heart and Eugene have been impressed so far. I really don't think…"

He broke off, noting the disappointment in her eyes that she tried to conceal as she drew her hand back slightly, holding the parchment closer to her chest. She gave him another smile, though it didn't meet her eyes this time; "Oh. No, of course. I…I know you must be busy."

Severus felt rotten.

Lily gave him a nod, the not-quite-real smile still on her lips and made to pass by him. He should let her go.

"Lily." He reached out, catching her arm with his hand.

Stop touching her!

Severus just couldn't seem to stop whenever he was with her.

He indicated a side door; "I was just about to go to the gardens." Why would he need to go there? No one goes there. "To check on the progress of some herbs. If you're not too busy, we could…"

Lily smiled again, a real one this time, and the ache inside turn into a little swell of something else.

Stop this now.

He couldn't. He glanced over his shoulder as he indicated she should lead and the two of them headed out.

It was a short walk, during which time Severus was edgy, glancing around, barely listening to what Lily was saying. She was talking about the little Potter from the little bits of conversation he could pick up. Birthday parties. Black. Broomsticks.

Finally, in the shelter of the gardens, Severus made a quick glance around the place to ensure his assessment was correct. No one ever came here.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Severus looked back at her sharply; "What?"

She was watching him curiously.

He cleared his throat, feeling caught; "No." He shook his head; "No one in particular."

She raised an unconvinced eyebrow; "Just, anyone at all?"

Silence.

"I can't imagine what you mean."

Lily smiled then, crossing her arms across her chest; "It's almost as if you don't want us to be seen together."

Severus shifted. Lily seemed amused and he felt…uncomfortable.

"Why?" she added.

Severus met her eyes, shaking his head; "Lily, you're being paranoid. Why would I not want to be seen with you?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I can't, for I have no such concerns."

"Is that why we're hiding in the bushes?"

And the conversation had gone on as such, as he awkwardly attempted to convince her that he couldn't care less if they were seen by anyone and that, really, it was a little late for him to be worried about something like that now.

Much too late.

He had urged her on again, with a hand to her back, while his mind reminded him with a jolt to keep his bloody hands to himself.

He couldn't do that either.

It was unbelievable, how little self-control he seemed to have in her presence. As if he lost all sense of…well, common sense.

That only made it all the more imperative that he control the amount of time they spent together. So he carried on, telling himself that the reason for it was prying eyes. Nosy colleagues. The Dark Lord.

It wasn't anything at all to do with the way she was making him feel.

And he was doing remarkably well, he thought.

Until, that is, the night of the Foundation's July Fundraiser.

* * *

Lily had her first taste of alcohol when she was fourteen.

It was Summer, 1974.

Severus had been there. Summer was always their time.

He'd snuck the bottle of Famous Grouse whiskey from his father's cabinet and the two of them had wandered down to their place by the river. He had laughed at the expression on her face when she tried it the first time; the bitter burn of the liquid was more disgusting that she had imagined it would be.

But hearing his laugh had made it seem less grotesque; that was the year, she remembered, when Severus had started to smile a little less and his laughter had been something she rarely heard. His worries seemed to fall away that summer though. And they were just Sev and Lily again.

The two had consumed the half bottle between them, Lily feeling more and more rebellious with every forced gulp. Neither of them really knew they ought to be pacing themselves. And her parents had been none too pleased when she'd returned home. After dawn. For she and Severus had spent the entire night goofing about around the river.

She'd been grounded for a week.

The memory brought a smile to her lips, coming to her as she and Severus made their way out the side door of the Foundation ballroom, down a small flight of stairs and through another door that led out onto the grounds, a bottle of wine held in her hand.

Severus had been acting strangely the past few weeks. Almost as if he was avoiding her. But it didn't take her long to figure out the source of his discomfort; his shiftiness when they were in one another's company, the quick glances around their surroundings, all seemed to die away whenever they were alone.

For some reason he didn't want people to see them together.

He wouldn't tell her why but she guessed he was uncomfortable under the scrutiny of their colleagues. It wasn't surprising, considering how private he had always been. Shy even. What was a little confusing was why it was suddenly bothering him now.

But she decided not to dwell on it.

Lily had come across Severus almost an hour into the function, having not even caught a glimpse of him prior to that, and, almost as soon as she had found him, he'd declared his boredom and his intention to leave. Emboldened by an impulsive wish to stay in his company, Lily had grasped the nearest unopened wine bottle and held it up; "How about a party of our own?"

Severus had looked amused for a second as he regarded her and then she caught the way his eyes darted around the room, his customary check that no one was watching them, before he nodded his agreement and told her to follow him and led her to the house-elf door that they had taken to leave.

"Maze?" Lily suggested, beginning to make her way around the side of the building in that direction, before Severus' hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced up at him, questioningly, and figured she was imagining the tingling of her skin beneath his touch.

He indicated with a nod in the other direction and she stepped out in front of him, going where he'd said, and she felt his hand brush the small of her back as she passed him. She ignored the little shiver down her spine.

She'd been careful for the past little while not to let her imagination run wild, the way it had done when she had come across him in St Mungo's a few months ago, but it was becoming difficult to keep it under control. Especially when he touched her with seeming tenderness; imagined tenderness, her mind laughed at her.

If Julia had not sent her on that awful date, Lily would not have opened that door to having such inappropriate thoughts about all these other men.

Well. This man. She hadn't really thought about anyone else in that context…

Lily pushed the thoughts away, giving her head a quick shake, willing them to leave her in peace.

After a few minutes of walking down a little path, away from the building, through shrubbery and small trees, she found Severus had led her to a little white gazebo.

She looked around with an approving smile as they stepped into it; "Nice." She nodded, turning a teasing glance Severus' way; "Is this where you take all your dates?"

Severus stopped walking and met her eyes at that.

Lily faltered as well, realising what she had said; "I mean…well, I didn't mean…obviously this isn't…"

Severus crossed his arms across his chest, regarding her with undisguised amusement.

Lily shot him a look, willing herself to recover from her flustered explanations, which had only served to embarrass her further. She should have just laughed it off.

Somewhere in her mind, she wondered why she should be so embarrassed, so nervous about the slip of the tongue at all.

A smile tugged at Severus' lips and he shook his head, carrying on further into the gazebo; "No." He reached for the wine bottle, which she handed over; "Like I said a while ago, I don't date."

Lily nodded, finding herself smiling; "Right. Me either."

"Ah. So you've seen no more of – what was his name? I apologise. I forget." He used his wand to pop the cork from the wine.

There was a distinct mocking aspect to his tone.

She rolled her eyes with a smile; "Absolutely not."

A puff of air escaped his lips in what seemed to be a laugh as he held out the bottle to her, offering her the first drink. She took it, taking a long drink from it, before holding it out to him; "And I know you're not being entirely honest with me. I have heard all about Miss Wishbone."

Severus rolled his eyes, taking the bottle as he walked by and went over to lean his back against one of the beams; "Inconsequential. And also the reason I no longer entertain female company." He lifted the bottle to his lips.

"Now Sev," she teased, going to him and reaching for the wine; "You can't let one bad experience put you off forever." She raised an eyebrow as she lifted the bottle to her lips and then felt a little jolt of – what, further embarrassment? Because she realised what she had just done could most definitely be interpreted as flirting.

Severus seemed immune, nonetheless.

"It was not one bad experience, Lily, it was the last in a string of unpleasant experiences."

Now, that was news to her; she didn't know there had been others. But of course there were others, Lily, her mind sneered at her. Did she think he was some sort of monk?

She found herself suddenly incredibly curious and also, to her confusion, jealous of these women whom he had referred to. Even if he had described them as 'unpleasant experiences'.

She took another drink from the bottle before she held it out to him; "Anyone I know?" This time, when he reached for the wine, she kept her own hand around the neck and his hand overlapped with hers.

Severus lifted his eyes from their hands to her face, looking confused, almost uneasy.

After a moment, he shook his head; "No."

She let go, wondering why she had held onto it in the first place.

Severus kept his eyes on her, seeming to study her closely for a moment as he lifted the bottle to his lips. He took a long drink this time. He raised an eyebrow at her when he was done; "I'd ask you about yours but I'm pretty certain I already know more than I care to."

Lily frowned, taking note in the change in his demeanour. She supposed he was offended at her questioning. She took the hint and shrugged; "Well, you were always far more secretive than I was."

Severus cocked an eyebrow at her and then lifted the bottle up, holding it out to her. This time, when she reached for the bottle, he did the same as she had done before; held on longer than necessary, their hands overlapping over the glass.

Lily raised her eyes to his, not surprised to find them still focused on her. But what did surprise her was the intensity in them as he looked back at her; dark and searching, making her silently catch her breath.

She swallowed, feeling hot under his gaze, the air between them charged with something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Lily stepped back, looking away from him as she did, and he let go of the bottle, allowing her to take it with her. She drew in a breath, avoiding his eyes, before lifting the bottle and taking a drink.

Liquid courage before she met his eyes again.

His gaze had changed, looking more confused than anything else.

She was feeling more than a little confused herself. Time to get back to safer ground. She lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear; "I also heard you spent time in Italy after the war."

He nodded; "Yes."

She furrowed her brow, deliberately; "Yes? That's all?" His lips twitched slightly and she smiled; "Tell me about it."

"What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Anything. You know how much I wanted to travel when we were little."

Severus nodded and proceeded to tell her various bits and pieces about his time away; responding to her questions and comments as they both settled back, she against the railings and he against the beam, their conversation turning to something far safer than dating and previous lovers and, most especially, turning her thoughts away from the way Severus had just looked at her and the way it had made her feel.

All the while their conversation punctuated by long drinks of wine.

* * *

If Severus thought the way Lily had been acting the past few weeks was odd, it was nothing compared to the way she was behaving now.

He was imagining it. He had to be.

He almost felt as if he was being teased.

He wasn't sure if even Lily was aware of what she was doing. Actually, now that he thought about it, this was always the way Lily had behaved.

When they were young.

He hadn't really had the chance to see it these past few months; both of them had changed so much, both were so different.

Yet, tonight it seemed as if they were exactly the same two people they had been.

And Lily was flirting with him. He caught those glances, those teasing comments, noticed the way she'd touch his arm, his hand, hold his eyes with hers a little longer than they ought to.

Not that it meant anything. She had always been that way.

Thinking it meant anything more than mere playfulness on her part would be wishful thinking on his part. Of course, that was always his role also.

She would flirt and he would dream.

No. His mind reminded himself. It wouldn't be wishful thinking because even if her behaviour did mean something - which it did not – it was not as if anything could be done about it either way.

The wine was making his head fuzzy. And her proximity was making his will weaken.

Already, he had touched her more that he had done before. As if his hands were finding excuses to do so.

Lily didn't seem to mind.

"I did gymnastics when I was at school. Before Hogwarts," Lily was saying, as she attempted to walk along one of the beams. One foot in front of the other, arms held outstretched to keep her balance. Her balance was not very well kept; she wobbled with each step, giggling as she did so. And he was smiling as he watched her. She grabbed at another railing as she stumbled, so she wouldn't fall.

"I used to be able to do this easy." She was still talking and he didn't interrupt, just enjoying the sound of her voice. The darkness. The wine. The peace.

They were still alone; he could enjoy her company when they were alone.

"Concentration. Is everything," she babbled on, with a mock serious voice, as she held out her arms and carried on walking unsteadily around the beam. Around where he stood.

"You're going to break your neck." Severus finally piped up, when her chatter ceased some time later as she grasped again at another beam to keep from falling.

"Wouldn't you catch me?" She grinned, glancing down at him.

"I suppose I would just have to do that." He conceded; "But bear in mind my own reflexes aren't quite as sharp as they normally would be."

"Ah. But I trust you."

Severus could only stare.

Lily paused in her steps, noting his silence, and looked down at him, meeting his eyes. After a second she smiled and gave him a small nod, almost shy. And he found himself smiling back.

"If I manage to walk around this whole gazebo, no cheating, do I win a prize?"

"A prize?" Severus grinned, arms crossed as he walked along by her, she carrying on her demonstration; "You are the one who jumped up there, it was at no insistence of mine."

Lily giggled; "How about if I get around here, you go and get us another bottle. And if I fall, I go."

"I could just accio a bottle from here."

"Ah." She was grinning and nodding, still walking and he still following; "I almost forgot. We are magical beings."

"You do talk nonsense sometimes, Lily."

She made a dramatic gasp; "You offend me, Sir."

"A sentiment shared by many, I assure you."

Lily smiled down at him; "People just don't see you for the big softie you are."

"Lily. Shut up."

She laughed then and stumbled, reached out for the nearest beam but missed and came down that time. He wasn't quite ready for it, the catch he had promised earlier far less graceful than it should be, considering he was pretty aware it would happen sooner or later.

Instead, he just managed to catch her by the waist and the two bumped against one another and stumbled, her hands reaching up to grab him by the shoulders.

She was still laughing when they steady themselves; "Nice catch, Sev."

"I wasn't ready."

Lily beamed up at him, her hands still gripping him by the shoulders, not inclined to let go.

If she wasn't letting go, either was he, he decided, allowing his hands to linger on her waist, the two of them standing close.

The amusement in her eyes slowly faded, leaving only a softness as she gazed up at him, her smile turning warm, tender; "You know. You should really smile more often."

Severus rolled his eyes, breaking eye contact with her; preparing to listen to more of her alcohol-induced ramblings.

But he didn't let her go.

"These other girls…"

He met her eyes. He'd known she had wanted to ask more about them earlier that night. Her interest in them was amusing.

"Were any of them…special?"

He stared back at her.

Lily. They didn't stand a chance.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Her nose wrinkled in playful annoyance and she gave him a little shove but her hands held on, not letting go of his shoulders. Hands that then slid from his shoulders down to the tops of his arms.

Severus thought he could just stay like this forever. So close to her. Just forget the world and look into those eyes until the day he died.

Merlin, this was ridiculous.

He couldn't do this. Couldn't lose himself like this.

Even if he wanted to. Even if she wanted him to.

Which she didn't. Stop this now.

He was aware of everything. The scent of her hair beneath him as it stirred in the breeze; the softness, the care in her eyes that told him that yes, she meant what she had said, she did trust him; and the way her hips curved beneath his hands.

His heart began to beat a little faster at the thought.

She was so close.

And she was silent now, only looking back at him.

He wanted to hold onto this moment forever.

A loud, searing screech sounded behind her and both their attention was drawn overhead as a loud bang erupted above. Bright lights.

A second followed. A third.

Fireworks.

"Hm."

Severus' eyes were drawn back to her at the sound of her voice. She was turned away but still in his arms, looking over her shoulder at the display; "Looks like the party's over," she remarked, eyes still on the sky.

Indeed, it is.

After a moment, she turned back to him, eyes meeting his. He only looked back at her, saying nothing.

She looked like she wanted to speak, like she wanted to say something. And then she sighed. She stepped closer, if that was possible, and leaned up, pressing her lips to his cheek.

Severus closed his eyes, savouring it.

And too soon, she drew back, giving him a small smile; "Goodnight, Sev."

Severus stood there. Watched her walk away.

The whole time his mind telling him what he had done, that coming here tonight, was foolish. Incredibly, remarkably stupid.

Before, her return to his life was confusing. Thoughts about their past, their secrets, their mistakes had plagued him. Haunted him until he had finally put them to rest; finally confessed his sins and she had forgiven him.

The confusion was over. And with it gone, it left behind only one simple fact.

He was right back to where he started.

He was still completely, head-over-heels in love with Lily Potter.


	22. July 1987: Played

Severus stalked down the street, Malachi close on his heels.

It was not even noon and already he wished the day was over.

Having been up for most of the night brewing – or, rather, wastinghis time – and dealing with the final stages of the Amortentia potion that was required for next term's NEWTs class, he had found himself distracted, unfocused, careless due to a very familiar scent that began to emit from the brew as it neared completion.

Earth after the rain. Old books. An odd mix of talcum powder and spiced apple.

It was the last which distracted him the most. He had always smelt it, ever since the first time he had been introduced to the potion. Always been able to identify it as that irritating muggle substance his mother had often had in the bathroom as a child. And he had always associated it with a certain red-headed girl across the playpark.

Why it should have bothered him so much the night before was beyond him, especially in light of recent events. He didn't need a potion to tell him what it was he was feeling.

Regardless, it had thrown him. And, as a result, he had ending up destroying, not that batch of blasted Amortentia, no – instead, when he had gone to add an ingredient to another potion, the Felix Felicis that he had left carefully simmering for the past four months, he had misjudged the precise moment to add the armadillo bile and that was that.

Four months of brewing down the drain.

And the ingredients were so rare, some of them available only in certain seasons, and so expensive, that it would now be almost half a year before he would be able to procure them to begin the whole process again.

In the five years since he had started attempting to brew it, he had only ever come up with one successful batch. And they needed it now, more than ever. One year from now would be too late.

Severus was livid.

He was stopped suddenly in his steps by a small hand grasping the back of his robes. Malachi was almost gasping for breath when he looked down at him over his shoulder.

"Are we…almost there?" the little boy wheezed.

Severus pursed his lips together at the sight, realising that the boy had been struggling to keep up with his long strides and, as ever, was unwilling to admit to any distress. Severus pointed at the house on the end of the street.

Malachi, judging by the way he lilted to one side, was trying to conceal a stitch in his side and the fact that he could barely breathe. He glanced at the house with excitement and his eyes lit up when he saw some balloons and banners decorating the outside of the structure.

The boy drew in a deeper breath and straightened up, hoisting up the wrapped parcel he had under one arm, once again eager to get moving.

Severus did not share the child's excitement.

This was another reason for his annoyance.

Severus, after throwing in the towel and heading to bed after three, had awoken the next morning to find a slip of parchment had been slid under his door in the night.

Sev. Dumbledore has called for me. Do you mind keeping an eye on Malachi for a few hours? Reg.

The request in itself was irritating enough. He did not appreciate being considered by Regulus to be a guardian or, worse, co-parent of the boy. This was not what he had signed up to.

But, he rationalised to himself in his mind, it was not as if Regulus had any other choice. He could not deliver Malachi to Andromeda or Narcissa in the middle of the night without rousing suspicion. And neither could know he had any association with Dumbledore.

So, Severus had pushed aside his annoyance and set off downstairs, only to be met with Malachi waiting in the kitchen, fully-dressed with bright-eyed excitement in his expression as he greeted him. The tell-tale wrapped package sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

"What is this?" Severus had eyed it, warily.

Malachi looked up from his bowl of cereal, saying as if it was completely obvious; "It's Harry's birthday present."

Severus had stared back at him.

"And why is it here?"

Malachi's brow had furrowed; "I have to take it with us. For his birthday party."

And, so, Severus had then been left with two options.

Either tell the boy that he would not, under any circumstances, be going to that party as Severus was adamantly against participating in any endeavour that should put him face-to-face with Sirius Black – as if his weekend wasn't going badly enough, without having to deal with that imbecile! – and thereby consigning himself to a day of the child's sulking and downgrading himself from the dull, silent, uninterested Godfather the child already saw him as to evil, killer-of-fun, dull, silent, uninterested Godfather he would then become.

The other option; drop the boy off at the party and leave.

He had opted for the second.

And so here they were, mere steps away from the home of Sirius Black.

And Lily, his treacherous thoughts reminded him.

Severus could already see her as she walked by one of the windows, her friend Julia Bradbury following close behind, as they engaged in animated conversation. Lily shot the other woman a look; the other laughed. And then they disappeared from view.

Red-headed children's heads suddenly ran past the window. Some balloons suspended on strings followed.

Severus almost rolled his eyes and stopped at the gate; the chaos inside the house could be heard all the way down the garden. Music; children's voices talking, laughing, screeching.

"Harry! No flying in the house!" Lily's voice.

"But Uncle Sirius –"

"Nope!"

"Harry said he was getting a new broom!" Malachi tugged on Severus' sleeve, eagerly; "Can we go in?"

Severus gave him a sharp nod; "Yes. Go. Your father or I shall meet you here, at this gate, at five o' clock."

Malachi's eyes turned from excitement to nervousness as he glanced from Severus, to the house, and then back again; "But…you aren't coming?"

Severus stared back at him.

"You're not?"

"Of course not. This is a children's party." He indicated with both his hands and glanced down at himself; "As you see, I am not a child."

"But –"

"Malachi. Go."

Malachi suddenly looked petrified. He looked at Severus and then at the house, suddenly becoming infuriatingly shy. Severus thought he saw Remus Lupin in another window now, looking like he was deep in conversation with someone.

When he glanced down Malachi was still standing there, looking up at him desperately.

"What is it?"

"I…I only know Harry."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; "Malachi. You are the one who insisted you attend this party."

"I…I still want to," Malachi said, and Severus could see that he desperately did, even if he did look like he had just been asked to climb up and performance a trapeze stunt at a Circus; "Can you just come to the door with me?"

Severus ground his teeth together, eyes going to the window once again. All he could see were little heads of hair running past.

He released an exasperated breath; "Very well." He placed a hand on Malachi's shoulder and urged him down the path.

The door was ajar but he wasn't going in.

He lifted his hand, giving it two sharp knocks.

* * *

"You have to talk to her, Moony. She won't listen to me. He's got her…he's got her brainwashed or something!"

Remus bit his lip to keep from showing his amusement at Sirius' ramblings. For weeks, this had been his default topic of conversation.

Lily and Snape.

As far as he could tell, Sirius had broached the conversation with Lily twice. First, when she had confirmed a friendship and, apparently, a trust in the other man and, later, when she had shut down Sirius' attempts at further discussion completely.

It seemed Lily was adamant that Severus Snape was…well, a friend.

Remus remembered Harry's questions from some months before, back when he had first been alerted to the growing relationship between the two of them. He had known, then, that Sirius would make issue of the whole thing when he found out about it.

Still, Remus wasn't entirely sure what his own feelings were on the matter.

However, he had noticed something that he knew couldn't be a mere coincidence; a change in Lily.

In recent years, she had been walking around under the weight of loss, sadness and desperation. Over the course of the past year, though, that cloud appeared to have dissipated; it was so gradual, he wondered if he would have even noticed it if he hadn't taken that time away from them some months before.

After Remus had kissed her.

That had only been months ago but even now she was a different person from how she had been then.

This girl, now, was different; the weight she carried before seeming to have lifted.

Her patience with Harry appeared to have strengthened. Even her patience with Sirius. From what the other man had been telling him, she no longer seemed to be inclined to engage in any of those fiery quarrels that had been so common between the two of them for the past few years.

It was difficult for Remus to put his finger on. She was more than just patient; she was light-hearted, more playful, especially with Harry, and there was a definite lightness to her step – even the way she walked and carried herself had changed.

Remus didn't know if Severus Snape had any role in that, if it was merely the purpose that the Fellowship had given her and the new connections and relationships she had built were what accounted for it. He didn't know what had made her finally begin to move on. To finally let go of the pain she had seemed so determined to carry with her.

Lily was almost the girl she had been back when Remus had known her at Hogwarts.

Before James.

And, wasn't that what he and Sirius had wanted?

Isn't that what the two of them had been insisting, even badgering her about for the past couple of years?

Let go. Move on. James is not coming back.

It was time. She still had plenty of it. Build a life. Find someone else…

Remus hesitated in this thoughts, them taking him to a territory he hadn't meant to consider.

Lily. Moving on. With Snape.

Uh.

Friendship was one thing…

Remus glanced across the room at Lily, with a contemplative frown, as he considered the idea further. He closed his eyes, the thought making him more than a little uncomfortable. He glanced at Sirius, who was looking at him expectantly.

Remus knew better than to voice where his thoughts had turned.

"She can take care of herself, Sirius."

"You know what Lily's like. She's too trusting." Sirius was looking at her; "It's our job to protect her."

"Say that to her; say goodbye to your nuts."

Sirius shot him a look; "This isn't a joke, Remus!" He rolled himself agitatedly back and forth in his chair; "How didn't you notice something was going on when I was away? Didn't Harry say anything to you?"

Remus averted his eyes. Sirius' movements ceased.

"Wait. You knew?"

"We both knew. You're the one who told me they were working together."

"We should have done something then."

Remus shook his head; "It's none of our business, Sirius."

"Like hell it isn't. We're family!"

Remus knew better than to point out the faults in the living situation he and Lily had gotten themselves into by living together so long.

In many ways, Sirius was much closer to Lily than Remus was. And not in a good way. He was too close to both of them, Lily and James, to see what he was doing. While there was nothing more than platonic feelings on both sides, Sirius had cast himself into James' role when they lost him; Lily's protector, Harry's father.

And, Remus knew, it was a role Lily hadn't particularly wanted him to take up.

But she had been lost back then. They all had been. They were young, devastated, they needed each other.

And now, here they were; Lily ready to move on and Sirius thinking he had the right to impose his opinion on her.

If Sirius wasn't careful, he was going to lose them both. Lily and Harry.

Remus was spared the need to voice his thoughts by the sound of two sharp knocks on the kitchen door.

"Hey, come on, this is a party! Get in here!" Julia called out, to the amusement of the children in the room that she was making balloon animals for.

Remus cast Lily a smile and headed through to the kitchen, the Weasley twins running through the doorframe and almost knocking him over as he went.

His mind was still on the conversation with Sirius when he pulled open the door.

He was startled out of his musings by the very face of the man they had just been discussing; Snape.

"Uh…"

Severus Snape cocked an eyebrow at him; "Lupin." He didn't look happy to be there.

"Snape. Wha…what are you –"

Remus noticed Snape's arm move and he glanced down, only then noticing the shy little boy at his side and a hand gently urged him forward; "I believe Mr Potter is expecting Malachi."

Remus' eyes softened, remembering Regulus' son from a few of his playdates with Harry; "Hey."

"Hi, Mr Lupin!" Malachi's shyness seemed to die away and he smiled brightly at him. He lifted up the parcel he was holding; "I brought this for Harry."

Remus couldn't help smiling at him, stepping back from the door; "Go ahead. He's in the living room."

Malachi hesitated, glancing back at Snape, who gave the boy a stiff nod and then he turned and went into the house.

Leaving them in awkward silence.

"Someone shall be back to collect him. I trust the boy will be safe in the meantime." There was more than a hint of a threat in Snape's tone and Remus felt his previously-held dislike for the man stir.

He was left wondering what on Earth Lily could possibly find within this man to trust, much less to like.

And then, as if his mind had somehow asked the question and the universe decided to grant him an answer, Lily's voice sounded out behind him; "Severus?"

Her tone was surprised, confused and, Remus noticed, very pleased.

Remus stepped away, allowing Lily to step into the doorframe, as he went over to muddle around with some of the presents that children had left on the kitchen table.

It was rude to eavesdrop but it seemed as if the two of them didn't care, or notice, that he was even there.

"Hi."

"Hello."

Remus glanced out the corner of his eye; Severus' tone seemed to have changed. It was softer. And, upon inspection, his expression had softened also.

"I was just dropping off Malachi. His father was otherwise engaged."

"Ah." Lily was smiling, brightly, and Remus was reminded of Harry's innocent words.

Mum looked really happy when I saw her with him.

So she did, Remus noted with a little discomfort.

"Come in."

"No. Thank you."

A little laugh escaped her; "Are you sure? Julia's making balloon animals; seems right up your street."

"Tempting. But no."

"Tea, then?"

"I…have work to do."

"On a Sunday?"

"Mm. Yes. There…is always work to be done."

Remus turned his head more fully this time, taking in the two of them in the doorway. Lily was still smiling, a cheekiness to it now, and her eyes were bright and twinkling with mischief. She was very happy to see him, that much was obvious.

What was just as surprising, though, was Snape's expression. Despite his words, his eyes were warm, his expression was relaxed and, most shocking of all, the man appeared to be fighting a smile.

A smile!

Remus had never, in his entire time of knowing Severus Snape, seen the other man smile. Well, not genuinely anyway; he'd only ever seen a trademark smirk.

"We have apple dunking coming up. Blind man's bluff," Lily was saying, and Snape was just staring at her, seeming to drink in the nonsense she was talking with apparent amusement; "Oh! And a piñata." She nodded, raising an eyebrow; "How can you possibly resist?"

The fact that Lily with babbling on this nonsense, things Snape obviously would not be interested in, spoke volumes to him. The fact that Snape stayed and took it all did too.

These two were obviously keen to stay in one another's company.

Remus wondered if they were always so transparent.

No wonder Harry was asking questions.

What they were saying, the words coming out of their mouths suddenly seemed totally unimportant. They weren't speaking of anything of consequence anyway.

Body language told Remus all he needed to know.

Snape was very nearly smiling outright now.

Lily reached up, her hand touching the man's arm now as she spoke. Snape nodded, and Remus noticed his eyes darken slightly. Noticed a slight change in his expression when Lily stepped a little closer; how he seemed to instinctively move closer in turn.

Suddenly, Remus' earlier thoughts did not seem unlikely.

Lily moving on with Snape.

Remus wouldn't necessarily consider himself to be a man of remarkable intelligence; in fact, any dunderhead would be able to see what exactly was going on here.

The two of them were categorically, slap-in-the-face obvious.

"Hey, Lil'! Harry's looking for –"

It was as if someone had flicked a switch.

The lightness in the air dissipated.

Sirius froze in the doorway. Lily jumped back a step. Snape's smile was gone.

Remus' hands curled, as the tension coiled, awaiting the inevitable.

Sirius' eyes were on Snape, dark and full of the same hate Remus was familiar with from their childhood. There was a moment and then he ground out; "You're not welcome here."

"Sirius." Lily's tone was snappy. She shot Sirius a cautionary look; both furious and uneasy.

Snape, who had previously stated his desire to leave, straightened up more; making himself taller and almost squaring off with the other man.

"Get the fuck out of here."

Remus saw Lily step towards him, while Sirius kept his eyes firmly on his opponent, ignoring her completely.

"This is my house, too." She said, quietly, earning only a furious look from Sirius in return.

"Lily." Snape spoke up, and she looked back at him. "Do not waste your breath. I'm leaving." He made to turn but stopped when Sirius rolled forward quickly, using his wand to accelerate his speed.

"Damn right you're leaving you son of bitch!" Sirius went on, despite Lily's hissing at him to stop it; "Stay the hell away from my family, you hear me!"

Snape looked down his nose at him, regarding Sirius with undisguised distain. And then he met Lily's eyes over Sirius'. His eyes narrowed a little and he appeared to be thinking. And then, for a second, Remus notice the darkness in them lift slightly, soften again just like before, and then, with a sharp turn on his heel Snape turned and left.

An uneasy silence settled over the three of them in his wake.

Remus saw Lily's jaw move with the grinding of her teeth, her hands clench and unclenching at her sides. She stepped forward, pushing the door shut, and spun around to face Sirius, her eyes flashing. Sirius met her look, evenly.

"You may be blinded by whatever it is he's told you, Lily. But that doesn't mean I have to put up with him in my house."

Lily drew in a breath, her anger coming off of her in waves; "Stay away from my family?" she repeated his words; "Sirius, you are way out of line."

"Mum!" Harry's voice called from the other room.

Lily kept furious eyes on Sirius for a second, before she eventually spoke; "We'll talk about this later."

She walked by him and, only then, did she seem to take notice that Remus was there at all. She paused on her way past, her voice quiet when she addressed him, disappointed eyes flicking up to meet his; "Thanks for the help."

And then she was gone.

Sirius turned to him then, raising an eyebrow.

Remus stared back at him.

"See what I mean?" Sirius eventually said.

Remus guessed it was probably best he not share with Sirius what it was he actually had just seen.

Because, after seeing the two of them together, Remus was wholly certain that Lily was pretty well on her way to falling in love with Severus Snape.

And, Remus guessed, the fallout of that was going to be pretty catastrophic.

* * *

Lily was furious with him.

But Sirius was used to that.

If anything, it was reassuring that they had seemed to fall back into their normal patterns. He was sure he wasn't imagining it, that Lily was walking on eggshells ever since he'd come back. Mind you, maybe it had nothing to do with him being in the chair at all and had everything to do with the big-fat-secret she had been keeping named Severus Snape.

Sirius felt like he was fifteen years old again.

He couldn't help it; something about that guy just brought it all back out in him.

Eleven years old, ready to finally break free from his parents' iron grip on his life, his mind, his friends – 'connections', as they'd preferred to call it – and one of the first people he'd come across on the Hogwarts Express was one Severus Snape.

Sirius had been dreading Hogwarts in a way – part of him was desperate to get away, but another part of him was fearful of what would happen when he sat under that Sorting Hat. What it would see in him.

If he was going to be just like them.

Even Andromeda had been sorted into Slytherin.

Creepy little Severus Snape had spoken about Slytherin as if a position in the House was somehow coveted. It sickened him.

The little twerp was everything Sirius didn't want to be.

The fact that Snape wasn't even a pureblood made his admiration of the House even more loathsome.

And then, well; he supposed everything else just followed from there. James despised him from the get-go, his hate only increasing with every minute Snape spent with Lily – Merlin, what would he be thinking now – and Sirius' hate increased accordingly and, well, the rest was history.

It should be damned history!

But no, now the greasy git had somehow managed to slither his way back into their lives. And, apparently, had Lily wrapped around his finger. And his dumbass little brother to boot.

It couldn't be a coincidence that this creep shows up again, right when the Death Eaters are beginning to rise once more.

Severus Snape was dangerous.

How Lily and Regulus could trust that man –

"Uncle Sirius?"

He was startled from his thoughts by Harry's voice.

He gave his head a little shake and gave him a bright smile; "Having fun, little man?"

Harry nodded; "Yeah." He glanced over his shoulder, expectantly, and then his brow furrowed; "It was just–" he broke off, eyes searching, and then he started waving an arm at another kid nearby, who was watching them uncertainly; "Come over!"

The dark haired little boy walked over, timidly, and Sirius thought he looked vaguely familiar. More than vaguely. He felt a strange coiling in his stomach as the boy met his eyes but he pushed away the odd uneasiness and offered the boy the same wide smile he'd given Harry; "Hello friend-of-Harry's. Enjoying the party?"

The boy gave him a small smile and nodded.

"This is Malachi, Uncle Sirius. You're his uncle too!"

The blitheness of Harry's announcement threw Sirius off the significance of his statement for a second.

And then he met the other little boy's eyes sharply.

Malachi.

He'd heard about him. Andromeda had told him bits and pieces throughout the years. Not much, really. To be honest, Sirius had vaguely registered that the child really even existed, never having met or even seen a picture and his relationship with Regulus being as it was.

But just looking at him, now, and Sirius was suddenly thrown back to another time. Times way before little Harry Potter, before James, before Hogwarts, right back, back, back…

His little brother, Regulus, and him playing Dungeons and Dragons in the gardens. Regulus and him wrestling in his bedroom. Regulus jumping on his back. Regulus and him plotting oh-so-funny pranks on their big cousin Bellatrix. Regulus smiling. Regulus laughing.

Regulus' tearful expression when he'd dropped his ice cone.

Regulus' tearful expression when Sirius had walked away.

Sirius released a breath he didn't know he was holding, his voice softer when he spoke this time; "Hey, kid."

Malachi gave him another shy smile, shuffling on his feet; "Hi."

Sirius had always been good with Harry. He'd always known what to say. Even when the questions got difficult, he'd always known what his Godson needed to hear.

Now, though, Sirius was speechless.

Harry was looking back and forward between them, expectantly. When neither spoke, he rolled his eyes, dramatically; "Malachi goes to school with me, Uncle Sirius."

The Learning Centre. Right.

"Oh yeah, I remember you saying." He nodded; "Do you like it there?"

"Uh huh."

"His dad is the boss."

"So he is."

"Malachi said his dad doesn't like you –"

"Harry!"

"What? You told me!"

Malachi looked utterly mortified. He met Sirius' eyes and then looked away, quickly, and for a second Sirius thought the little boy might bolt.

Sirius gave a chuckle, finding his feet; "Hey, don't worry about it, little nephew. Your dad and me, we're brothers." He winked at him; "Believe me, we've said a lot worse about each other."

Malachi held his eyes, looking at him searchingly for a second, and then his expression relaxed and he smiled again. It was different this time, though, no longer the little polite, shy smile he'd given him before and there was something so Regulus about him in that moment that it almost took his breath away.

Sirius tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow; "So, what's it like living with my brother?"

Malachi looked hesitant and then he shrugged; "Good."

"Good? Come on. I wanna hear more than that. My brother's a dad! I never thought I'd see it! Took him until he was, like, seven just to be able to tie his shoelaces properly."

Malachi grinned; "Really?"

"Nah." Sirius laughed and Malachi's smile widened; "He was, maybe, a little bit quicker than I was. But hey, I was busy learning more important things."

"Things like what?"

Sirius tilted his head back and forth, making a show of thinking; "Oh. You know; how to do magic without getting caught doing it. Figuring out plans for how to prank our big cousins – your dad used to help out with that. We used to drive our mum and dad mental."

Malachi's eyes widened; "He was bad?"

Sirius grinned and shrugged; "We were boys."

Malachi was staring at him in wide-eyed wonder and then, after a second, his smile slowly widened and he gave a giggle. He looked at Harry and then back at Sirius again, stepping forward a little, his expression eager now.

"What else did he do?" There was an adorable, wicked little gleam in his eyes.

And, oh Merlin, this kid was so much like his little brother that it almost hurt.

* * *

Regulus was torn between irritation and amusement.

The week before, Malachi had asked him if he would be able to go to Harry Potter's birthday party and Regulus' answer had been a resounding no.

Sure, he'd maybe made a joke and thrown in a few anecdotes about birthday parties and the like to soften the blow, but the decision was perfectly clear.

No, Malachi would not be going to that party.

Regulus was shocked at his son's outright defiance. He had never experienced anything like it from Malachi before.

However, and this was where the source of his amusement had come from; Regulus had not been as shocked as Severus had been when he had explained where his son was when he returned home, after Regulus questioned his whereabouts.

"I dropped him off at noon. I trust you can collect him yourself."

"Dropped him off where?"

Severus had lifted his head then, eyeing him over the book he was reading; "At Potter's birthday celebrations. Obviously." He shook his head, turning his attention back to his book; "You really ought to pay more attention to your son, Regulus."

Regulus had ground his teeth together; "Potter's house? You mean, my brother's house?"

Severus' eyes, which had been roaming the page, froze. And a silence fell over them, before his gaze flicked from the book to Regulus face.

Regulus shook his head; "You didn't think I'd have a problem with that?"

Severus looked utterly dumbstruck for a moment. It was almost humorous. Actually, it was humorous; Regulus just hadn't really appreciated it at the time.

"The boy said…" Severus had broken off, looking thoughtful. It lasted a moment. And then a slow smirk spread, as he slowly shook his head.

He met Regulus' eyes again then, raising an eyebrow; "You'll make a Slytherin out of that boy, yet, Regulus." And then he tossed the book he was reading onto the coffee table and headed down to the basement.

Severus Snape had been played by his six-year-old Godson.

Severus had actually looked impressed as he had left the room.

Regulus couldn't help smiling as he thought about it, even as he wandered down the little path leading to the door of the house he had sworn he would never set foot in, nodding politely at the other parents and children that were passing him by in the garden.

The door was open but he knocked anyway and a woman, someone Regulus only remembered vaguely shot him a wide smile and waved him in.

He nodded, giving her a smile in turn. It was hard not to; "Hi. I'm here for Malachi."

"I figured. I remember you; it's Regulus Black, right?"

He nodded, looking at her curiously, trying to put name to the face.

She put him out of his misery, stepping forward with her hand held out; "Julia Bradbury. You probably don't remember me; last time we saw one another you were preoccupied trying to coerce your buddy into taking my buddy for a spin on the dance floor."

Ah.

Regulus smiled widely, remembering the incident; "Ha. Right. Yes. I…uh…I paid for that."

"Oh really? What was the price?"

Regulus snorted, rolling his eyes; "I barely remember, my penalties all sort of blend into one. But, rest assured, he wouldn't have let me get away with that."

Julia laughed, gathering up some children's toys from the floor – presents, Regulus guessed – in her arms and he moved forward to help her.

"What a gentleman," Julia remarked as a thank you, once they were settled into a box, and he noticed a little tattoo on the inside of her wrist when she brushed the hair back from her face.

"Interesting marking." He lifted his eyebrows, briefly, inclining his head at it.

Julia glanced and nodded, slowly; "Mhm. Isn't it just? I spent a year in the Philippines after Beauxbatons. Got carried away with a little cult of witches over there. All spiritual and divination worshiping and the like; a total riot. I loved it but it wasn't for me." She held up her wrist again; "This was the only thing that stuck."

"They marked you?"

Regulus felt a chill run down his spine, thinking of his own.

She gave him a smile, dropping her arm to her side and shook her head; "No. It wasn't that sort of cult."

He gave her a lopsided smile; "What does it mean?"

"No regrets."

Ha.

Sounded nice.

And totally unachievable.

"Well, really, their moto was; live free, regret nothing and have hope for tomorrow."

Regulus only nodded.

Julia raised an eyebrow; "You don't agree?"

He gave her a wry smile; "Who wouldn't agree with something like that?"

"You. Apparently."

Regulus averted his eyes, forcing himself not to frown, but he was offended. This woman didn't even know him.

"Sorry. Big mouth. Ignore me." She rolled her eyes with a smile and walked by him.

Regulus crossed his arms, taking a few steps behind her; "It's not that I don't agree. I just think it's a fantasy."

She met his eyes.

"Everyone has regrets."

Julia lifted her shoulders; "I don't."

Regulus stared at her, asking with his eyes; what is that like?

The sound of Malachi's laughter drew his attention to the other room. He glanced back at Julia and she nodded, giving him another smile, this time one of dismissal, and turned to carry on cleaning up.

Regulus only took one step into the other room, eyes transfixed by the sight of his son.

His son and his brother.

Sirius was sitting, not in the wheelchair Regulus knew he was dependent on now, but on the sofa and Malachi was sitting next to him, facing him with his legs crossed. His eyes were wide and he was listening with rapt attention to whatever it was that Sirius was saying.

Malachi laughed, suddenly, and Sirius' smile widened, before he reached over and tickled the boy's side. Malachi jerked and giggled, before speaking again.

The sight of them together, something that would have been so normal under different circumstances, made his stomach tighten. He felt a little rise, a lump form in his throat. He cleared it, to get it away, not to interrupt, but Sirius heard.

His brother's eyes flicked from his son's face to his.

The lightness in Sirius' eyes fell away. Back to the expression Regulus had now become used to, on the few occasions they saw one another.

Pain. Sadness. Regret.

The spell was broken. Malachi turned from Sirius to Regulus.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at him.

Malachi looked sheepishly at the ground and then turned around to face Sirius. Saying goodbye, Regulus noticed, and Sirius reached out, squeezing Malachi's shoulder before the little boy turned and jumped down, heading towards him.

Malachi didn't look nearly so eager to approach his father; eyes downcast and his feet practically dragging along behind him.

Oh yes. He knew he was in trouble.

For a second, Malachi kept his eyes on the tips of Regulus' shoes, peeking out from beneath his robes, but when he didn't say anything, he nervously lifted his head, meeting his eyes.

Malachi raised his eyebrows, hopefully, and then reached into his pocked, plucking out something wrapped in a napkin; "I saved you some cake."

It took all his willpower not to crack a smile.

"Grounded."

Malachi's shoulders dropped.

"But…I…"

"Grounded." Regulus turned, heading back through to the kitchen.

"Dad!" Malachi hurried after him.

"Grounded, grounded, grounded." Regulus repeated, though he was smiling now. Not that he didn't mean what he was saying, mind you.

Regulus thought he heard Sirius calling him back.

He told himself he didn't care.

* * *

As always, when it came to her life, Lily found herself muddling through the various opinions of everyone who felt they ought to put in their own 'words of wisdom'.

It was always the same.

First with everything relating to James.

And then with working at the Foundation.

And now with Severus.

Sirius was the worst offender, of course. He seemed to take a particular interest in any and all aspects of her life, as if she was incapable of being trusted to make any of her own decisions whatsoever. A consequence of her allowing him to have such a large role in their lives the past few years.

She was torn between the gratitude she felt towards him, for being there for her, for Harry, when they most needed it. Torn between that and the desperate need for him to give her some breathing room. Let her make her own choices even if they did end up being mistakes. The mistakes were hers to make.

Lily felt as if she was suffocating under the weight of his overbearing interference.

The behaviour he had just exhibited towards Severus was almost a tipping point. Surely Sirius didn't really think he could stop her from choosing her own friends.

In just two minutes, he had managed to successfully decimate the good mood she had been feeling all week, all month.

But Sirius wasn't the only one who had opinions.

"What's up?" Julia had heard the shouting, had distracted the kids, only casting Lily a curious glance when she'd returned to the living room.

Ten minutes later, she was providing her with a more-than-eager ear to vent to.

"He doesn't have any right to say that to him." Lily finished up; her voice was low, so as not to be overheard, but the anger in her tone was enough to get her point across.

Julia shrugged, looking sympathetic; "You know Black. He's just being protective."

"I don't need his protection, Julia! I need him to just back off."

Julia looked like she was fighting a smile.

"What is it?" Lily sighed, recognising the knowing gleam in her eye.

"Oh, you know what it is, Lily. I think it's cute."

"What is cute?"

"You know, your boys fighting over you."

Lily lifted her hand, rubbing her eyelids with her thumb and forefinger; "I'm really not in the mood for jokes, Jules."

"Who's joking?"

Lily let her hand fall, shooting her a glare, feeling incredibly, unexplainably defensive all of a sudden.

Her relationship with Severus was nobody else's business and she was becoming so tired of other people passing judgement on it. Already the nosiness of their colleagues at the Foundation were influencing Severus' behaviour towards her; she really didn't need the people in her own life trying to influence the way she behaved around him too.

"Jules. We are just friends."

"Look, don't get snappy about it. You may not be ready for it yet but I'm just telling you what I see. And, you know what; I see something good."

Lily sighed, feeling guilty, knowing Julia was just being a friend. And, right now, she was really the only one on her side about the whole thing.

"Jules –"

"Lily, I've seen it, okay? I see you changing. And I'm pretty sure Sirius sees it too. That's why he's freaked. He knows this thing with Severus means something."

Lily just shook her head, looking down, feeling more confused than ever.

She doubted that was true. At least, she doubted Sirius suspected the same thing that Julia was implying. If Sirius really did think there was anything more than friendship there, she was pretty certain after today's encounter that he would go ballistic.

And that was a certainty that was only heightened when Remus decided that he, too, ought to offer some sage advice of his own.

"Just be careful. That's all I'm saying."

"Remus, I really do not need to hear this."

He had cornered her in the kitchen, while she had been dividing up portions of birthday cake for the children to take home. She had decided to do it the muggle way and to use the opportunity to get some peace.

No such luck.

"I just want you to be sure. Think about what you're doing."

"Remus," she sighed, shaking her head; "Do you honestly think Severus is some great threat to me?"

Remus had looked at her uncertainly before he went on; "That's…not what I'm talking about, Lily."

"Then what are you talking about?"

Remus had balked then and it left her with a strange, uneasy feeling in her stomach. Instead of offering any answer or explanation, he had just left and Lily had the sneaking suspicion that, while Sirius may not have yet started to suspect the same as what Julia was always so insistent upon, Remus had.

Remus knew.

Knew?

Thought. He thought there was something more there.

Lily swallowed, feeling that strange nervousness twist in her stomach whenever she thought too deeply over what was really happening with Severus.

How she really felt.

She wasn't oblivious, as much as she tried to be. She noticed every little way she reacted to his words, to his touch, to his smile. His smile, whenever she succeeded in drawing it out, had the ability to give her goosebumps.

Goosebumps, butterflies, sweaty palms; you name it, Severus Snape gave it to her.

And she wanted it.

She didn't know if he did too but, somehow, that made it okay. It gave her some time to try and figure all this out. As much as she wanted to spend that time with him, carry on feeling the way that he was making her feel, she wasn't sure if she was ready for anything more than what they had right now.

It was a strange push and pull she was feeling, on his side as well; wanting to be close to him but still holding back, pushing him away when it seemed like it was becoming too much.

There was something there, she knew it. Something deep down, inside of her.

But then there were other things, other thoughts that made her hold back.

Severus was so closed off sometimes, that she thought he couldn't possibly feel the same way. That she could ruin everything with one wrong word, one wrong move. Send him running. Some days he already seemed to have one foot out the door.

Then there were other times when he was so open with her, so seemingly there with her that nothing in the world had ever felt more…well, right.

Obviously there was now Sirius to consider. She picked up easily on what Remus was saying. Something like this, she and Severus, that would change things. It would change everything.

The possibility that Sirius could end up giving himself a heart attack or something from rage if he ever found out notwithstanding.

And, then, there was James.

Being with Severus just wasn't the same as heading out on some blind date Julia had set her up on. It was one thing to say it was time to move on. Time to let go. Time to date. Time to try again.

All that, it was just words.

Being with Severus, that would be something real.

Something there was no going back from.

And the thought of that unnerved her so much that it almost made her want to run.

Almost.


	23. August 1987: Served Cold

"When is Uncle Sirius coming to get us?"

"Soon. He said one o' clock," Harry said, glancing over at the clock – the little hand after the twelve, the big one at the eight – trying to ignore the little twinge of irritation he felt when Malachi referred to him as 'uncle' Sirius.

He couldn't help it. His Uncle Sirius was his Uncle Sirius. He had always been.

He'd never had to share him before.

Harry forced himself to be nice. He was the one who wanted Malachi to meet him, after all. He was the one who said Malachi just had to be at his birthday party because Uncle Sirius was going to be there and, hey, wasn't it so cool the he was his uncle too.

It was cool. Malachi was his best friend now. And them having the same uncle made them like cousins, like his Uncle Sirius had cousins - he'd said how he had loved them – or, even, like brothers.

Harry always thought he'd like to have a brother.

Though his Uncle Sirius and Malachi's dad didn't like each other much at all.

Malachi said he was grounded by his dad just for coming to the party. That his dad really didn't want Malachi to see his brother. Ever.

Harry found himself wishing that Malachi's dad had tried harder to keep them apart. Malachi only had to ask him a few times to let him come flying with them and then he had said yes.

And then Harry felt guilty. He was supposed to share, that's what his mum had always said to him. He couldn't keep everything to himself. It wasn't fair.

And Harry had wanted them to meet, he kept reminding himself. It's his own fault this happened.

But, he reasoned with himself, he didn't know that his Uncle Sirius was going to end up liking Malachi so much.

It was him who had told Harry to invite Malachi today.

It was like he loved him. Right away.

Harry scowled, throwing the book he was holding onto the floor.

Malachi looked at him, frowning; "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Malachi didn't look convinced; "You look mad."

"I'm not."

"But –"

"I'm not mad."

Harry rubbed his heels back and forth on the carpet, glowering at the floor. Malachi watched him, looking upset, and Harry felt bad.

Not that bad though.

"How come you call him Uncle Sirius? You only saw him once."

Malachi frowned; "He told me to call him that."

The revelation only made Harry angrier.

"I called him Mr Black at first. He told me that was silly. He said we're family."

Harry felt tears prickle in his eyes and he looked away.

Malachi went quiet. They both went quiet. Harry tried to hold back his tears, not angry anymore. Just sad.

"I'm sorry."

It was whispered, a little shaky, and when Harry looked at Malachi he looked sad too. And then Harry felt even worse.

But, before he could say anything, the ground beneath them shook.

* * *

"Eugene's leave of absence means he'll be gone during the Conference this year."

Andromeda nodded; "So, you'll have to find someone to introduce Orion?"

Regulus lifted his shoulders; "Severus will do it." He glanced at the window, the sound of the ever-persistent protestors still carrying through the walls.

Severus had told him to charm the room; soundproof it.

Regulus didn't.

"You think?" Andromeda raised an unconvinced eyebrow; "He's never spoken at an event before."

"He teaches for a living. He's used to it." Regulus sat down behind his desk, across from her; "Besides, he ought to get the credit for it. He did most of the directing on that project anyway."

"What were Eugene's reasons for time off?"

"Family obligations," Regulus said, absentmindedly, as he flicked through some parchments, looking for the monthly schedule; "Did you manage to arrange accommodation for the Learning Centre's field trip?"

"Mhm. All sorted. Elena dealt with it. You're letting Malachi go?"

It was not so much a question of letting his son go to Scotland; Regulus didn't have a choice. One week away would give Regulus the chance to focus on the pressing matter of the Dark Lord's imminent return and work with Dumbledore to track down the remaining horcruxes. Time was running out and they were grossly unprepared for what was coming.

Six years to prepare and yet here they were, facing the very real possibility that the Dark Lord was going to return, just as powerful as ever. Still immortal, just as before.

"Sirius told me he's spending the afternoon with Malachi."

Regulus met her eyes.

Andie raised her eyebrows; "I was surprised."

"Hm." Regulus looked down at the desk, fingering his quill; "So am I."

"You're unhappy about it?"

"Malachi put himself in a situation where meeting Sirius was inevitable. On purpose. I've spent the past few weeks listening to; 'Uncle Sirius said this', 'Uncle Sirius said that', 'Is it true you once made Auntie Andie's hair turn green?'" He met Andromeda's eyes at that and they shared a smile.

"He's enamoured with him."

"Sirius does have a way with children. Dora adores him, too."

"He asked to go with him and Harry this afternoon; I said no at first."

Andromeda was silent, offering no response, neither approval nor otherwise. Just understanding. She was good like that. She was the warmest of his cousins. And, though he'd never say so out loud, she was his favourite of the three of them. Narcissa he loved too, but she was always so reserved – and Bella was just stark raving mad – but Andie, she was always there to just to listen. Just always there.

"Then I thought I couldn't do that, y'know? I couldn't stop him…couldn't control who he wants to be with. Not when they were, well, safe with them anyway." He was hesitant; "I couldn't be like them."

Like his own parents. Like Andie's parents.

Andromeda gave him a small smile.

"You're doing the right thing, Reg." She finally offered up her opinion; "Malachi deserves it; to know everyone who'd love him."

Regulus just shrugged, reaching for the ink; "We should get working on the proposals for the Conference, then." He began scrawling on the parchment.

"Shouldn't Severus be here for that, if you're after his cooperation?"

Regulus glanced at the clock; twenty to one; "He's probably still at Hogwarts."

"I saw him an hour or so ago. On the grounds."

Regulus hesitated. Then a smile tugged at his lips, as he carried on writing; "If he's outdoors he's probably engaged in more…enjoyable pursuits."

He heard a little snicker escape his cousin's lips and he raised his eyes from the parchment with a responding grin.

"Are they together?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

Regulus rolled his eyes; "We're guys, Andie. We don't discuss our innermost feelings over cocktails and doing each other's make up."

"You don't talk at all about it? You seem to know there's something going on."

"I have eyes."

"And ears?"

Regulus snorted; "He's never brought her home, if that's what you mean."

He reached for spare parchment.

"And he wouldn't appreciate this turn of conversation," Regulus added, grinning as he turned his attention back to work; "If they are, well, shagging or anything, he hasn't told me about it."

Andromeda was laughing; "You do have a way with words, Regulus."

"Pack it in. If he found out we were talking about this he'd gut me."

Andromeda was still chuckling when she spoke; "Either way, we still need him here for this. For his research notes, if nothing else. And it's not like that's what he'd be doing right now, in any case. Send a greeter; Elena's down the corridor."

"Yeah, he'd really appreciate that." Regulus scoffed; "The reason they're outside is because they don't want people to know they're with one other."

"Why not?"

Regulus' writing halted.

He cleared his throat; "Because he's a private person."

Andromeda wasn't buying it. Now she was regarding him curiously.

This was great. Soon, he was going to have to come face to face with the Dark Lord and try to maintain his cover and he wasn't even able to keep from slipping up pieces of information around his big cousin.

Regulus stood; "The findings of Orion are in his office; he wouldn't mind me taking them." He stepped out from behind his desk and was making his way to the door when someone on the other side knocked.

He pulled it open, revealing Elena standing on the other side, arms balancing a package; "This just arrived for you, Sir."

Regulus indicated with his head towards the desk and she headed over to put it down; "Thanks Elena." He nodded at the package, addressing Andromeda; "That'll be the supplies for the trip to Scotland. Bunch of matching scarves and cloaks Gillan said she wanted. Makes the kids easier to track."

Andromeda smiled, glancing at it; "Cute."

Regulus rolled his eyes and headed from the room, making his way down the corridor.

He was just a few steps from Severus' office when he felt it.

Just a few steps and then a strange force seemed to pull him back; his breath catching and his muscles clenching. The world around him seemed to coil and tense up; pulling him inwards. And then, suddenly, the tension was released and he found himself thrown forward, his body hitting the door ahead and bursting it open; barely registering the walls crumble around him before everything went black.

* * *

Death Eaters were rising.

The Dark Lord was returning.

Protestors were screaming at the gates.

Severus found it easy to turn it all off; easy to forget the world as it crumbled around them when he was here.

Lily smiled down at him.

His own lips twitched in response.

"Okay, so, I have to ask."

He raised an eyebrow, not moving from where he was situated on the grass; propped up by the tree behind him.

"What made you decide to become a Professor?"

The outside world prodded on the edge of his consciousness.

Severus glanced at his wand, where he held it over his chest, wondering what he ought to tell her. After all, becoming a Professor at Hogwarts was never a choice. It was something forced upon him when he had defected; Dumbledore wanted it and the Dark Lord wanted it. Therefore, that is what he became.

He figured she ought to have guessed that by now. She knew he had turned to Dumbledore; she knew he'd went to Dumbledore with the information to save her.

He'd been honest with her so far. Mostly. Whenever she asked anyway.

"It was not a choice." He met her eyes; "It was necessary."

Lily seemed to think about that for a minute; "Do you enjoy it?"

His lips twitched, wryly; "Don't be foolish." She'd asked him this before. Though, he hadn't answered her then.

Lily made an amused 'mhm' sound and nodded, running her wand over the little pile of pebbles she had gathered; watched as they transfigured from stones to flowers; "I figured as much." She shifted; "You were the spy?"

"Yes."

"But you're not a spy anymore."

Severus forced himself to hold her gaze though he dreaded where the conversation was going next. Already had a fair idea of the dangerous territory they were now encroaching on. He wanted to be honest with her. He wanted to tell her everything she wished to know.

But there were some things he couldn't.

"So, why do you stay?"

Severus swallowed.

"I made him a promise."

"Dumbledore?"

"Right."

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she drew in a breath and met his eyes again; "Tell me what happened."

He felt his stomach knot.

She went on; "Back then."

"We've already discussed it."

Lily shook her head, tucking her wand into her sleeve, and crossed her legs, sitting up straighter next to him; looking down at him; "You told me you were a Death Eater. That there was a prophecy. And that you told Dumbledore that Voldemort –" Severus flinched at the name; "- that Voldemort believed it was us."

Lily bit her bottom lip, before she went on; "You never told me anything else."

"I would have thought what happened next was obvious. You must have guessed –"

"Guessing isn't the same as knowing."

Severus swallowed, almost gulped, and he looked away.

He didn't want to talk about it.

"Sev?" her voice was soft.

They were silent. She waiting. He thinking.

He hoped she would change the conversation. Accept the silence as his unwillingness to share.

No such luck.

She carried on waiting.

He drew in a breath and didn't meet her eyes when he spoke, keeping his wand on his chest.

"I went to Dumbledore about a year before the war ended. He was…less than pleased to meet with me. As you would expect. He was aware from the beginning what I was. I…told him what I knew."

Severus pushed himself up from his half-lying position on the grass so that he was sitting more fully, still leaning back against the tree. Still not meeting her eyes.

"It was agreed that I should become his spy. But we needed a reason, something to explain our meetings. The Dark Lord was aware there were defectors within the ranks and it did not take long for him to realise there was a leak. Dumbledore was careful; he tried to conceal your movements. But there was a spy within the Order also."

"Peter." Lily's voice was a whisper.

"Yes." Severus met her eyes for a second before he went on; "Some months before, the Dark Lord had asked me to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. I was unsuccessful. It was at this interview…moments before this interview, that I overheard the prophecy."

Severus hesitated, allowing himself to meet her eyes. They were still on him, just listening to what he was telling her. There was no anger, no hate in her expression; things he still expected, even now.

Her forgiveness was something he could never have imagined back then. Even now, he still could not forgive himself.

Severus remember all of these events as if they were yesterday.

This was the thing that had changed him.

His greatest regret.

"The Dark Lord had wanted me as his spy at Hogwarts. His fury at my failure to procure the role was only diffused by my…offering."

It almost sounded like he was trying to excuse himself.

He went on; "Dumbledore was aware of this. So, it was decided I would become Professor of Potions. The Dark Lord would believe I was spying for him; while, in actuality, I was working with Dumbledore."

There was a silence.

Severus shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, finally meeting her eyes; "Surely you had figured this all out on you own."

Lily nodded; "I suppose. But…what did Dumbledore offer you?"

Severus could only stare at her.

No.

Lily was not that dense.

"I mean; you gave him the information to save us. You agreed to become his spy. You pretty much agreed to serve him for the rest of the war; even now, you stay loyal to him. Stay with him."

Severus gave her a humourless smile and leaned the back of his head against the tree.

"Why do you stay?"

Severus met her eyes.

He wasn't going to answer. If she didn't know by now, if she couldn't figure it out, then she'd never know. But, dammit, it was so bloody obvious.

He had done it all for her.

But like hang was he going to say that.

"Sev." Her voice was quiet; "He would have hidden us, anyway."

Ah. So she had figured it out.

He kept his eyes on her.

She shook her head, slightly; "You don't owe him anything."

Severus wasn't sure how to respond to that. As far as he was concerned, he owed Dumbledore a hell of a lot. Lily's life; his life. The future that he had built for himself. None of this would have been possible without what the other man had given him; his trust.

Severus wouldn't break that.

Maybe when he was younger, before all of this, when he was a lesser man he might have done. Actually, he would have done. He was a coward back then.

Severus didn't particularly consider himself to have blossomed into a beacon of nobility in the years since; but he knew, without doubt, that he would not be the sort of man who would break his word.

Regulus' absolution was the Foundation.

Severus would find his only through Dumbledore.

Without really thinking, Severus reached for her hand.

Lily's hand squeezed his own and he met her eyes.

He gave her a small smile; "I do what I must."

Severus half expected her to protest but his statement was met only with curious silence. A silence that stretched. Her thumb trailed slowly across the top of his hand, down to the underside of his thumb. Severus swallowed, uncertainly, his heart skipping at the seeming tenderness in the gesture.

He lifted his eyes to hers.

She was closer than he realised, her gaze intent, searching his face. Severus could only stare back, unable to look away, but a nervousness came over him. Rose up inside of him.

Lily was looking at him in a way he had only ever thought he'd see in his imagination; a warmth, an affection in her eyes that was mixed with something else, a little haze of something more. Something he never would have considered he could see reflected in them.

His own breathing quickened, unconsciously catching his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes dropped from her eyes to her lips.

Her hand tightened around his and then, slowly but just as shockingly to him, her face moved closer.

He was still but his mind and his heart were racing. Barely able to believe –

The ground beneath him trembled. He wondered, for a split second, if that was his imagination; if the prospect of finally kissing Lily Evans was enough to make him physically shake. And then, the blast hit them both from behind him and he found himself thrown forward against her and they landed in a heap, him on top of her, in the grass.

"The fuck -!" He gasped out, winded from the collision. His hands quickly pushed against the ground, lifting himself off of her; "Are you alright?"

Lily nodded, looking as bewildered as he felt; "Yes, I'm fi – what…what happened?" Her eyes darted around the clearing and she pushed herself upright as he got to his feet, turning.

And, then, he saw it.

The glass of windows blown out; cracks searing up the left side of the Foundation building; the rumbling as its stability weakened and the walls began to crumble.

"Mother of –" he breathed; "Lily, get out of here!"

"Harry – Harry's in there." She whispered, looking shaken, but only for a second and then she took off; running in the direction of the building.

Severus was behind her, wanting to keep her close; they didn't know what was going on here. People were running towards them, some of them screaming as they ran away from the building; some were injured, blood oozing from wounds. All looked petrified.

Severus seized someone on the way past; Shaw, a messenger from the West Wing; "Shaw! What the hell happened?" Lily carried on running and he wanted to yell at her to wait but he knew it was pointless. She needed to get to her son.

"I don't know, Sir!" The man he'd captured wheezed, looking over his shoulder and pointing at the building; "I was delivering a message and the whole building just shook; then everyone was running."

"Did you see any intruders? Is it Death Eaters?"

Shaw shook his head, sharply; "No. I didn't see anyone. I just ran. Everyone just went running."

"Severus!"

He let go of Shaw, who took off, when Heart called out and hurried up to him; "Severus, it was in the Office corridors! The boss' office."

Severus felt his stomach drop.

He stood, staring at her for a second, and then he ran past, almost knocking her from her feet; actually succeeding in knocking some others to the ground as he fought his way past the crowd that was evacuating the building. Severus caught sight of familiar red hair ahead, as Lily pushed and fought her way in the direction of the Learning Centre.

Severus went in the other direction.

As he burst into the opening, the door having been thrown from its hinges, he was hit with it; that horribly familiar, lingering disturbance in the air that Dark magic left behind when a particularly powerful curse had been triggered.

Severus almost tripped over the first of the dead, lying just a few feet in. He walked briskly, calling out; "Regulus!"

When he was greeted with silence he broke into a run, knocking into Felix Butterman as he rounded a corner. The other man was gripping his upper arm, while blood trickled down a wound from his temple; "Felix! Is there anyone else?"

Butterman shook his head, looking dazed; "No…no one. I don't…" He struggled, stumbling on his feet, reaching for the nearby wall. Severus grabbed him, not entirely gently, and quickly lowered him to the ground.

"Wait here."

He hurried over him and he went for his wand, needing to light the corridor, and realised he had left it outside. He'd left his damn wand outside! The walls around him rumbled, ominously, and he called back over his shoulder; "If you can move, Butterman, just go!"

As he took the left leading towards his and Regulus' offices, he stopped short, the walls having already come down in places, confirming what Heart had said. It had happened here.

Severus hurried, climbing over the rubble; he could see Regulus' office ahead. What was left of it. The walls were blown outwards.

He stumbled into the room.

Andromeda Tonks lay lifeless on the floor.

Elena Fitzherbert's body was nearby.

Severus couldn't see Regulus.

"Regulus!" his voice came out as merely a croak; the next came out as a harsh shout; "Regulus!"

Utter silence greeted him.

For a moment, Severus was as still as the dead.

And then desperation took over. He launched himself at the rubble, tearing at it with his hands. Getting nowhere; unearthing nothing. Severus called his name again, as he stepped over the fallen walls into the next office, the structure having been destroyed between all rooms in the row.

His own hands were bleeding but he felt nothing; nothing but the crippling desperation that he needed to find Regulus. Now.

Little slithers of grief began to tug; began to make themselves known as he stumbled, eyes searching and hands grasping.

It all happened quickly, even if everything seemed slow motion to him, and as he stumbled into the remains of what he recognised was his own office, his eyes caught sight of familiar black robes beneath the broken remains of one of his bookshelves.

Severus launched himself at the form; turning it gently.

Regulus.

Severus' heart thudded in his chest, his breathing ragged, and he could only grip him for a second, foolishly.

And then the other man let out a low groan, shocking Severus from his state.

"Regulus?" His fingers went to his neck; a pulse.

Regulus' eyelids flickered and Severus felt something within him flicker correspondingly; the sudden relief, the joy that soared through him making him released a harsh, humourless laugh. Regulus' eyes focused on him for a second.

Two heavy breaths; "Sev." He sounded…horrific.

Severus made a quick search, trying to find Regulus' wand, but it was lost. He reached down, heaving him up into his arms; "Quiet."

He stumbled from the remains of the room.

* * *

"Harry!"

Harry was hunched over the form of another boy, hands frantically shaking at his shoulder, but he turned quickly at the sound of his voice.

"Uncle Sirius!" he cried, before running and throwing himself onto his lap, into his arms.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against a dizziness and heaviness in his chest he had felt since he'd finally managed to manoeuvre his way into the building. He clutched at the back of Harry's head; "Are you alright?"

"Uh huh." Harry drew back quickly but stayed on his lap, turning to look over his shoulder; "But something's wrong with Malachi!" He jumped down and hurried back over to the boy Sirius now recognised as his nephew.

He used his wand to accelerate the speed of his chair; "What happened? Were you attacked?" As far as Sirius could tell when he arrived in amongst the chaos, whatever had happened had happened on the other side of the building. The only tell-tale signs of what had happened here being the smashed and cracked glass of the windows; some items knocked from their spots.

"No, he was fine!" Harry said, frantically shaking Malachi again; "We were running out with everyone else and then he just fell down."

"Let me see him." Sirius gently moved Harry aside, casting a charm over him that he'd learned during the war; checking for injuries. He frowned; "I...his heart rate's way off. Did he say anything before –"

"Yeah!" Harry conceded; "He said he couldn't breathe right. And that he felt sick."

"Harry!"

Lily's voice startled them both.

Harry was seized and pulled into a hug; "Sweetheart," Lily breathed against his shoulder; "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." Harry's voice was muffled against the fabric of her robes; "But Malachi's sick." Lily drew back, looking down and seeming to notice the little boy for the first time. She gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek and knelt down next to him, pressing a hand to his cheek; "He's ice cold."

Lily scrambled around, suddenly, drawing out her wand and casting various charms and incantations; far more thorough than Sirius was able to do with only basic field-healing training. Harry clutched at his arm, watching as his mother worked.

The air was heavy and Sirius' breaths were coming heavier; his own vision seeming to go in and out of focus. He gave his head a rough shake, willing himself to stay focused, but the motion sent a shooting pain through his skull.

He held back a groan, reaching up to grasp his forehead.

"We have to get him to St Mungo's right away." Lily's voice sounded far away but it didn't conceal the urgency in her tone; "I can't be sure but…there's traces of a curse or –"

Another pain shot through him, more intense and searing, seemingly from his head down to his toes and Sirius couldn't hold back the groan this time; long and low.

"Sirius?" Lily's hand was on his arm, tearing his hand from his face, and the brightness of the lights made him flinch. He caught sight of her wand in front of him; "Harry, when did Sirius come here?"

"Only just now."

Their voices were fading away, drifting. Or he was drifting, he wasn't sure. But, suddenly, his chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe.

"Harry, help…on the floor…quickly…"

Their voices died away, his vision following suit and Sirius felt himself being pulled from the chair; felt the sensation of falling, falling, weightlessness before it all gave way to nothingness.

* * *

The curse was rare.

Rare and powerful.

Something Severus had never seen before.

He had read about it; this magic. He had studied over books, furiously, as an adolescent at Hogwarts. When he had been young, curious and eager to learn all he could about the Dark Arts.

It was Blood Magic.

Dangerous. Powerful. Forbidden.

As such, much of the texts had been destroyed or censored, particularly in the aftermath of the war when the Ministry considered barring any and all access to the Dark Arts to be of upmost importance.

Foolishness.

Severus could not believe the complete lack of logic of it all; how were people supposed to fight Dark magic if they had no idea how it worked, where it came from, even what it was they were fighting at all.

Severus could not identify the curse.

He had had some volumes of his own, several that he had gathered up in his youth, that he had managed to conceal from the Ministry during the mass collection and burning of books. Unfortunately, all those had been lost in the house fire the previous year.

So Severus had nothing.

The restricted section in Hogwarts had turned up nothing.

Perhaps if he could get his hands on the artefact, the source of the curse, then he could study it himself. Perhaps then he could identify the components and figure out what curse had been enacted. But the aurors had whisked the offending article away and refused to allow him to even see it.

He needed it.

Severus was almost certain that this curse was something new.

A new curse that had been invented.

But by whom, Severus could not understand.

It was Dark magic and those who had been protesting Regulus' guilt, those who had demanded justice for his crimes, they were surely on the side of light magic. How could they even know how to perform such a ritual.

And yet, it made even less sense that Death Eaters would target Regulus in this way.

Especially now, when the Dark Lord's return was so close. If anything, even if Death Eaters suspected his disloyalty, they would want to keep him around if only to bear the brunt of the Dark Lord's certain fury when he was to resurface.

Regulus would be offered up as a traitor and that would take away the attention from their own shortcomings; the fact that the majority of them, all of them, had simply carried on with their lives and allowed his cause, his proselytization to simply die with their Master.

Oh yes, he was going to be livid.

That was something that did make sense; Death Eaters surfacing and showing face now that the mark had returned.

But attacking a fellow Death Eater was not showing face.

Nor did depriving their Lord of his rightful retaliation.

But, for now, it did no good for him to dwell on the 'who' and 'why'. Only the 'what' mattered.

Severus would find the perpetrator; the intent to find him having soared high up on his current list of priorities.

They would pay.

Until then, he had to focus; figure out what this thing was that had succeeded in latching onto Regulus. That had bound to his blood; grown and spread within his veins and that the Healers and Severus, together, had only barely managed to suppress.

What they knew was that it was Blood Magic; bound, triggered and targeted by Black blood.

Andromeda Tonks had activated the curse in his office.

Regulus had been close enough for it to bind to him.

How had the perpetrator possibly managed to get their hands on the family's blood?

Malachi and Sirius Black had both been in the building; both had been affected though to a far lesser degree. They suffered only from the lingering exposure to the spell but it had not bound to them. Both had regained consciousness within twenty-four hours.

Lucius had sent Narcissa and Draco to relatives in Europe when he learned of it.

"Severus?"

Severus turned from where he stood at Regulus' bedside at the sound of the timid voice at the door.

Malachi stood there, dressed in a gown, peering fearfully at his father where he lay on the bed. Regulus was pale, beads of sweat apparent on his skin, and the sickliness of his complexion was contrasted by the blue of his lips and his eyelids.

Severus cleared his throat, turning away from Regulus and going to Malachi, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder; "It is best you don't see your father this way."

Malachi kept his eyes on the other man regardless, even as he addressed him. His voice was quiet, afraid; "My mum died here."

Severus felt his stomach knot at the statement. He knelt in front of him; "Malachi." He waited until their eyes met; "You mustn't think that way." When Malachi looked away Severus placed his hands on his arms, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner; "I will learn what is causing this."

Malachi's face crumbled and, to Severus' astonishment and complete discomfort, the boy pressed into him and burst into tears.

Severus froze, uncertain what to do.

He cleared his throat and awkwardly patted Malachi's back. Should he say 'there, there' or 'it will be alright' or 'I am here' like in those sappy muggle films Lily had made them watch when they were children?

All options seemed ludicrous.

He chose silence.

Allowed the boy to simply weep.

* * *

It was some time later that Lily had come across him, still in Regulus' room. Still studying furiously over the limited texts he had managed to procure, while Malachi lay curled up asleep as his father's side.

She cleared her throat from where she stood at the door, drawing his attention from the pages.

Lily bit her lip, arms crossed as she glanced in Regulus' direction; "How is he?"

Severus shook his head; "No change."

Lily nodded, her eyes still on Regulus; "Sirius said if there's anything he can do – if he needs blood or anything."

Severus only pursed his lips. Though he made a mental note of the offer; the need to save Regulus life prevailed over his animosity with Black.

The two were silent for a moment.

"Do you know what it is?"

Severus put the book aside and stood, making his way over to her; "Not the specifics. It was a curse, I'm sure you're aware?"

"Yes. I could sense it when I was checking over Malachi."

"Blood magic," Severus stated, bluntly; "Created for a specific target. In this case, it seems they were unable to secure Regulus' own blood so they supplemented it with the blood of a Black and created a more...wide-ranging target."

"All of them?"

"Any within the vicinity when it was enacted, yes."

After a moment he added; "Black and Malachi were very lucky. Had they been any closer they would have suffered the same fate."

Lily looked over at them, at Regulus and Malachi where they lay in the bed, before back at him; "Have they found any suspects?"

"None as yet."

"It was the same people as before; those responsible for Malachi's mother."

"I believe so. Though I am bewildered by their ability to cast such a spell; I have yet to even find record of this particular pattern."

It was new, Severus was sure of it. And he was more than a little troubled by how specific the application appeared to be. At how determined those responsible were that Regulus perish, willing to allow others to die in the ensuing destruction so long as the man was killed or cursed or whatever else this magic was yet to do to him.

These people claimed to want justice, to want him to rot and die for being a Death Eater but these people must have known that innocents would also die. That those within in the Foundation walls, those who benefited from what Regulus had done when creating the place, were just like them.

Those who had loved and lost and who were now trying to find their way again in the world, having fought on the side of Dumbledore during the war.

They knew these people would perish alongside him.

Andromeda Tonks was such a person. She had assisted the Order during the war. The light.

"If it would help –" Lily said, breaking him from his thoughts; "We could take Malachi home with us. To give you time…"

Severus met her eyes.

Send the boy home with Sirius Black.

Regulus would not be thrilled by the concept.

And yet, Lily was right. He needed time to focus; to figure out what this thing was before the suppressants became ineffective and the curse spread further.

Regulus Black's survival trumped his hatred of Sirius Black.

Severus swallowed, giving her a nod; "I would be grateful if you could."

Lily gave him a small smile.

He did need time, just as she said.

To figure this out; to break the curse; to save Regulus' life.

However, there was a chill within him, something that told him, yes, time is what he needed. Time was what Regulus needed right now but not for Severus to find a cure. Not for him to stop it.

Without the necessary information, that was impossible.

Regulus needed to survive long enough. Long enough until the event they both had most dreaded for the past several months came to pass.

If those who had created the curse had wanted Regulus dead so badly, Severus had little doubt that no counter-curse had ever been formed.

And without knowing the components, the incantations, the exact science of it all which Severus did not, could not unless he was willing to lift the components he was using to hold it back; Severus could do nothing to fashion one himself.

And only Dark magic stronger than what had created the curse could then lift it.

Severus was not so powerful. He couldn't tap into magic of that strength; it would simply kill him before he had even a slither of the amount needed to save Regulus' life.

No.

He was fairly certain that unless he could discover the precise details of what had happened here, unless by some miracle he could uncover it:

The only person who could lift the curse was the Dark Lord.

* * *

Death Eaters retaliated three days later; an attack in Hogsmeade that killed four.

The Foundation shut down.

Flowers lay scattered in the ruins of the East Wing.

The Wizarding World was in uproar.

It was just as it had been before and the Dark Lord hadn't even risen yet.

Darkness was falling and order was crumbling.

Andromeda Tonks' funeral was a week later, on a wet August afternoon and the building was swollen with the numbers of people there paying their respects, so many that they poured out into the grassy field outside; filling the area with ease.

Voices were murmured; tears came easy and frequent; someone stood on a boulder outside and spoke of her; others followed suit as tribute was paid to the woman who had co-founded the Foundation.

The woman who had helped restore hope and meaning to the lives of those so destroyed.

They spoke for hours until the sunset and then the last speaker lit the end of her wand and held it skywards and those in the crowd that had swelled when the building emptied out into the field held up theirs, a sea of light held up in tribute.

And with heavy hearts, the crowd dispelled and people began to speak amongst themselves and share their grief.

"Severus."

He had planned to slip away, not wanting to speak with anyone. He had to come; he had cared for Andromeda. Had respected her as a colleague and a relation of Regulus, had admired her strength and her quiet resolve in her own principles. He had considered her a friend.

But he did not want to speak with those others who had come to mourn her.

For Severus, grief was private.

He gave the person who had spoken a nod; "Cornelia."

Heart gave him a compassionate smile; "How are you doing? How's the boss?"

"There has been no change."

Her expression sunk somewhat, bordering on grief, as if he had just stated outright that Regulus was doomed to die. He drew in a breath; "If you would excuse me."

He made to step past her.

"I wondered if you'd heard?"

Severus paused, glancing at her curiously, a slight frown on his brow; "Heard what?"

Heart looked hesitant, glancing around; "I only just found out tonight. The aurors have identified who signed off the paperwork allowing the artefact into the Foundation."

Severus straightened to attention, quickly picking up on her reluctance; "Who?"

She swallowed, averting her eyes for a second, before meeting his again; "Eugene."

The revelation hit him like a bludger to the stomach.

"There must be some mistake."

Heart lowered her eyes and Severus went on; putting voice to the fact that that was simply impossible.

"Eugene has been with us since the Foundation was founded. He has always been one of Regulus' closest allies." One of my closest allies. A friend.

Heart drew in a breath; "He lost people." He met her eyes, his own having been darting around the crowd as he tried to digest what she had just told him; "During the war. His daughter and two granddaughters. They were murdered."

Severus stared at her.

"By Death Eaters," she added, needlessly.

Hearing no more, Severus stepped away from her without a dismissal, everything suddenly clicking into place.

Eugene Hopkins had approached Regulus and Andromeda in the Summer of 1982, mere weeks after the Aurelius Foundation opened its doors. It had been small then; only the two of them with Severus offering help when he could. He had spent most of that year in Italy when Dumbledore had granted him the time away.

Eugene Hopkins was renowned for his work, previously one of the best Healers in the Wizarding World. Had become one of the top researchers in maladies of the mind. Was connected with influential figures across the globe. Regulus and Andromeda could hardly believe their luck when he had offered them his services; his connections.

He had been accepted into the Foundation with open arms and when Severus had returned in the fall, in time for the commencement of the new term at Hogwarts, the four of them had built the Foundation up from the ground.

He had been one of them; an ally; a friend.

Other things suddenly swam into Severus' mind. Eugene's mentioning of Evelyn at a Foundation function, mere days before her death. How he had noticed her with Regulus.

He remembered Eugene's interest in Lily. How he would always watch them together; grinning and offering unsolicited encouragement to pursue her. Outright implications that she meant more to Severus, that she was important to him.

Things Severus had denied.

Eugene had applied for a leave of absence only days before the attack.

He had fled.

Years of patience finally coming to fruition.

Severus burst into Eugene's office, the remains of it, having apparated to the Foundation as his thoughts began to connect the dots.

It was perfect. Eugene's execution of revenge was flawless.

Gain their trust. Become one of them. Build them up. Observe them. Watch them. Figure out what would hurt them the most.

Take the people they loved.

Evelyn. Malachi.

To outside eyes, Severus had kept Lily at distance, kept his true feelings a secret; thank Merlin.

But did Eugene know what Severus was? What he had been?

He may have suspected, as others surely had, but he had not yet come under the same scrutiny; his previous place in the world as an insignificant, less-than-impressive half-blood drawing little interest from anyone. And he had gone to Italy in the aftermath, the time Dumbledore granted him away giving him the chance to change that; to return as someone else entirely.

By then, the witch hunts, so to speak, were done and dealt with. The trials were over. Dumbledore had put to rest any suspicions that came up and Severus was not even called upon.

Severus pushed aside the rubble, not entirely sure what it was he was seeking, but needing answers. Needing proof.

He found it quickly; a broken frame with a picture inside, lying on the ground.

The moving image wasn't even unfamiliar; Severus had seen it every time he had entered this office for the past five years.

The blonde haired woman and her two young children. They smiled at him; they waved.

Suddenly, Severus felt sick. He pulled the picture from the frame, turning it over. And, on the back, one word was written:

Soon.

The rage and betrayal mixed with something else then, as he turned it back over, looked back at the faces of the three whom Eugene had lost.

The victims.

Severus felt a swell of the same emotions he knew Regulus held onto every day, those he refused to let go of, emotions that Severus had fought away, suppressed with the use of occlumency, as something in his mind hissed; you deserve this.

He should be lying in St Mungo's.

Severus tried to push the thought away; focus on the betrayal.

All this time, Eugene had been watching them. Waiting.

A snake in the grass.

Like you.

The thought hit him hard; a battle on two fronts.

On the side of the light, he was betrayed. He had defected to them. He fought for them now. But, yes, he had killed them first. He had been the enemy.

He had been a Death Eater. He deserved their hatred, their scorn and their revenge.

And then the other, the side of the darkness. The side he had turned from but with whom he would soon have to submerge himself. People who trusted him. Lucius came to mind. A friend. People to whom he had pledged himself when he had been a stupid, angry child.

People who he would soon be watching. Waiting until the right moment. Waiting to betray.

Just like Eugene.

Because he had loved and almost lost.

Severus understood but he hated him; for the betrayal and for the fact that his best friend was lying in a hospital bed, death lingering nearby.

And Severus hated him for the release of the hold he had kept so tight over himself for the past six years; for bringing it back. It was necessary, he had always told himself, it had to be done. For Lily. For Lily. And then, later, that this was what was right; even when Lily was saved, spared, the path was clear. Dumbledore. The Light. The Light.

But the reminder of what he once was, what he had become, a traitor himself came hard and fast. A traitor to them all.

To the Light; to the Dark.

Regulus drowned himself in this.

So could he.

Past mistakes that could not be accounted for; mistakes made in his youth that had gotten people killed. That had destroyed lives. Such things could not be pardoned.

There was no escape. Nothing was enough to atone for it. Nothing could be done to erase it.

Self-loathing swelled within him.

His stomach churned and he retched onto the cold, hard stone of the ground.


	24. September 1987: The People

It had been three weeks since the attack and still Severus had come up with nothing.

He had gone to every questionable bookstore in Britain. He had contacted those whom he had worked with in Italy. He had owled every research professional that he had ever made a connection with; every connection that even just the Foundation had connections with – Eugene's networks in particular. But everything turned up blank.

Even Dumbledore could offer no information to help.

Blood Magic was just too rare, too taboo for anywhere to hold material about it.

Severus had considered taking a page out of Black Sr.'s book and heading out to scour the globe in search of one Eugene Hopkins and demand he tell him what it was he had done to Regulus – and he'd be more than willing to demonstrate his own capabilities when it came to the Dark Arts in the process – but he knew such actions were fruitless.

Eugene's determination was adamant and the only successful outcome of such an encounter would be the other man locked up in Azkaban. With Severus as his cell mate.

And then Regulus would have no one fighting for a cure.

Then again, something strange had happened only a few days prior.

Severus lifted the newspaper; The Wizarding Chronicle.

Severus did not read tabloids but this one had demanded it, as it lay unassumingly on one of the low tables in the St Mungo's reception area.

A large picture of Regulus Black graced the front page with the headline:

Black Attack: Warranted or Villainy

Regulus was no stranger to having articles written about him, particularly those that painted him in a less than flattering light. The odious Rita Skeeter had written a handful of them during the trials some years before. Public opinion had been affected accordingly.

Perhaps without said articles, the outcry may have not been quite so vehement when Regulus' case had finally been dismissed in 1981.

The article in the Chronicle was different.

It was not soft on Regulus, per se, but it most definitely lent more in his favour than any article had ever done before. It discussed Regulus past with alarming accuracy, his well-known – yet unproven – role as a Death Eater during the war, the eventual collapse of the trial against him, his actions in the aftermath. It deliberated the question of reclamation and absolution. It reinforced the dangers of following a path of vengeance, as chosen by Eugene Hopkins; the resulting corruption of the soul and, by extension, the community if a person or a people were unable to find it within themselves to forgive.

Severus had kept it, intending on making Regulus read it when he awoke; the writer of the article speaking incredible sense.

Meredith Snow.

Severus had never heard of her. Nor had he ever read The Chronicle before.

He wondered if she was a sympathiser of the Dark Lord. Or perhaps she had been a conquest of Regulus' during the war. She certainly seemed to have a firm grasp of his character.

One article meant little in the grander scheme, especially from a newspaper as obscure as this one. At least, that is what Severus had thought when he had first come across it.

In the days that followed, similar articles began to emerge across the press, as if a ripple effect had been cast.

Some remained true to their scathing portrayal of Regulus Black. Some had softened their views. Some barely even mentioned him. But all held the same underlying message. That it was time to forgive; that the lives lost in the Foundation attack, the innocent, were not worth the price for one man's vengeance.

And so public opinion seemed to level out for the first time in six years, as two sides formed.

Those believing in forgiveness, in the right to redemption, the right to correct the wrongs of the past; and those who believed the opposite, that justice had not yet been served.

Protestors who had previously lined the walls and gates of the Foundation calling for Regulus Black's blood were replaced by demonstrators in support of him, in support of the Foundation, in support of Andromeda Tonks and those who had died.

The Foundation had been closed for three weeks, this odd turn of events taking place during the last, when Heart, Butterman and Littlewood had shown up in his office at Hogwarts, where Severus now spent most of his time.

"We want to reopen, Severus."

Andromeda was dead.

Five others perished with her.

Regulus was incapacitated.

Severus did not think he had the energy and, to be perfectly honest, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about going back there at all.

Now that he knew the truth about Eugene, now that the memory of the very beginnings of the Foundation had been tainted with such a dark truth, he felt an almost hollowness within his chest just thinking about the place.

"Impossible. There is no one to direct."

"There's you."

Severus met Heart's eyes, holding her look evenly. They all were looking at him expectantly, hopefully, as if he, himself, held the answers to their troubles. But Severus was uneasy, the betrayal still fresh, and a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, ominously, asking him if he could even trust these people.

Never again would he be fooled by a smile, a laugh, a pat on the back.

"I cannot. I do not have the time. Hogwarts is in session."

Excuses.

"The boss would want this."

Severus glared back at her.

"Severus."

His eyes flicked to the man who spoke, Butterman, the first person other than Cornelia to do so.

"We'll do everything we can. We'll work day and night. The Aurors have finished their investigation and the building has been restored. It's ready so long as we are."

"We are not."

Littlewood spoke up; "You take over the role as director –"

"No."

"Sever –"

"The Foundation is not mine." Severus cut Heart off.

She pursed her lips together, as Littlewood went on.

"Have you seen the Foundation recently, Severus? Have you seen the demonstrators? Have you read the articles? The people want this!"

"I could not care less what the people want, Mortimer." Severus ground out as he stood, turning his back and walking to his bookshelf, needlessly lifting a volume; "It was not so long ago that said people were calling for Regulus' death." He gave a snort, without humour; "Now they almost have their wish and they have suddenly changed their minds."

Anger seemed to be Severus' default emotion these days. At Eugene Hopkins. At the people. At his former colleagues. At his students. At himself.

"We understand, Severus," Heart said, quietly, her tone conveying the truth of the statement; "This…something like this, you can't just bounce back from."

Severus' hand curled over the cover of the book he held as he looked back at them.

"But we can't lose sight of what's important," she went on; "Of what the Foundation means. And what Regulus was fighting for."

Butterman nodded his head in agreement; "If we don't reopen, if we let the Foundation fall, then Eu- then Hopkins gets exactly what he wanted. Regulus Black gone. And the boss' work erased, as if it meant nothing, and he and the place become remembered only because of that day."

Severus walked back, tossing the book carelessly onto the desk; "We have no Founder, no Co-Founder, no Head of Research and, if I was to take up Regulus' role – temporarily – then we would also have no Deputy Head of Research either."

He sat down, dragging his chair forward with a loud scrape across the dungeon floor; "Who would direct the projects? Orion is still in the presentation stages, it will need to be proposed and introduced, and Dorado is in need of constant supervision." He drew over a pile of first year essays he still had to mark, forcibly stabbing the end of his quill into the ink pot, making some slosh over the edge and stain the desk; "And I have no interest in dealing with all the intricate details that Regulus participated in; Learning Centre field trips, Foundation parties, focus groups in the Counselling Wing –"

"Delegate the duties. The Department Heads would be more than happy to increase their workload; to do their bit," Butterman stated, with certainty; "We're all willing to do it. We've discussed it with them."

Severus fingered his quill as he considered it.

There was a silence, as they anticipated his response.

"Severus." Littlewood's voice was steady, sure and true; "We are all behind Regulus Black."

Severus lifted his eyes from the desk to their faces, to each of them, and he could see, without doubt, that they meant it.

He drew in a breath, thinking about Regulus lying there, near death. Knowing that they were right. That this is what he would want.

And knowing that, as much as he protested, he could not just sit back and let everything his friend had built, everything they all had built, crumble without a fight.

Yes, Severus was angry.

Angry in that childish 'I-Hate-The-World!' sort of way that was so familiar, because he had experienced surges of the emotion frequently since before he could even remember.

What was it that Meredith Snow's article had said?

That we could not dwell and drown ourselves in hate and thoughts of past wrongdoings; that we must, as a people, unite - look forward and fight for what is now.

The reminder of the overly-sentimental statement in the article almost made him roll his eyes.

But not quite, as he looked into the eyes of his people.

People behind Regulus. And, he could tell by the look in their eyes now, people who were behind him.

Severus gave a single nod.

"Very well."

* * *

The squeals of the two boys could be heard from the other room, clear as day, before the playful roar of Sirius' voice joined in, making their own cries become even louder.

"God, Lily, it's like a bloody zoo in this place!" Julia winced against the noise.

Lily grinned and nodded, as she finished up stirring the tea she had been making; "You get used to it." Her voice was raised to be heard, as she lifted the mugs and headed over, placing one down in front of Julia as she reached the table.

Lily plonked down, closing the door to the living room with a flick of her wand and dimming the noise, somewhat. She turned curious eyes to her friend; "So, I got a letter from Meredith this morning."

Julia sipped her tea.

Lily's lips twitched in a smile.

"I didn't think you two spoke anymore."

"We lost contact, that's all," Lily admitted, her quest to find a cure for James having resulted in the loss of many old friendships; "But I wrote her earlier this week after the article. Just to say I thought it was great, what she was saying."

"Mhm. And what did she say?" Julia asked, feigning nonchalance, lifting a biscuit and dipping it into her tea.

"She said; 'well, I thought you would, since Julia had been so adamant I write it'."

Julia grinned.

"Why did you do it?"

Julia lifted another biscuit to dip; "Lots of reasons. Maybe it'd get you your job back. And, y'know, he's Black's brother and he's been pretty up in arms about the whole thing. Not to mention that adorable little kid of his you've been harbouring for the past three weeks; he doesn't need to grow up thinking the whole world hated his pops."

Julia shrugged as she added; "And hey, he's a good guy. Least, he seems to be, from what I've seen."

"Even though he was a Death Eater?"

"You don't think he's one of the good guys?"

"I do," Lily conceded; "I just didn't realise you'd spent enough time with him to think so as well."

Julia lowered the mug from her lips, looking thoughtful for a second; "I spoke to him a few weeks ago, at Harry's party. You can see it in him. See that he carries it." She shrugged, reaching for a cake this time; "He's trying. And –" she took a bite; "second chances are wonderful things, my friend. People should grant them more often."

Lily smiled, nodding slightly in agreement.

The door to the living room burst open and Harry and Malachi ran through, squealing, throwing themselves down low behind the kitchen counter.

Sirius followed, slowly, with a teasingly menacing gleam in his eyes, supporting himself on the crutches he had finally acquired from St Mungo's a few days before.

It was time, the Healers said, a couple of weeks after Sirius' had the first tingling in his legs; as the feeling slowly returned, the potions and healing charms finally beginning to take effect. His despondency only increased with each day he spent in it; more time sitting, thinking. About Peter Pettigrew and, Lily suspected though he had now stopped voicing it, thoughts about Severus Snape as well.

The news from the Healers that it was time to move to crutches where possible, alternating between those and the chair as need be, and he would soon be back to normal. No need for either of them.

Not soon enough for Sirius. As soon as the first tingling in his legs had presented he had been adamant that he wanted out of the chair. Immediately.

"Can we go flying, Uncle Sirius?" Harry asked, from where he and Malachi were cowering behind the counter.

"Sure."

"Yes!" Harry jumped up, making to run up the stairs.

Malachi followed, his expression becoming a frown; "I can't go flying, Harry! Severus will be here for me soon." Their voices faded away as they hurried up the stairs, evidently to retrieve Harry's broom.

Sirius' playful expression evaporated at the mention of Severus and he lowered himself, slowly, onto the chair at the table next to them; "Don't see why Sniv – Snape," he quickly corrected himself; "has to come for him at all. He's been fine here the past few weeks."

"He's his Godfather, Sirius," Lily said, reaching for a biscuit.

"Well, I'm his uncle. He belongs with family. And Harry's here with him, we've been having the time of our lives these past few weeks."

"Malachi lives with him. He was only here while Severus tried to find out how to help Regulus."

"Which he still hasn't done."

"I don't see you doing anything to help," Julia pointed out.

"I'm taking care of my nephew, aren't I?"

"Sirius, don't start." Lily shot him a look; "Severus will be here any minute."

She hoped Sirius and Harry would be gone by the time he did; she didn't want a repeat of what had happened on Harry's birthday. Especially not in front of her son.

A knock at the door put dash to her hopes.

She shot Sirius a warning look before she stood and made her way over, opening the door.

Severus lifted his chin in acknowledgement; "Lily."

Her smile came instantly. Other than a brief glimpse of him at Andromeda Tonks funeral, she hadn't seen him at all since she and Sirius had taken Malachi from St Mungo's a few weeks before.

"Hey, Sev." She stepped aside; "Come in."

"I can wait outside."

She frowned, reaching and grasping his arm; "Don't be silly, it's raining!" She pulled him in, before he could say another word.

Severus stood, awkwardly, in the kitchen, his eyes glancing briefly in the direction of Sirius and Julia who were staring right at him without any shame whatsoever.

He cleared his throat, giving Julia a nod and studiously avoiding Sirius' eyes.

"Afternoon, Professor!" Julia greeted him with a wide smile.

"Miss Bradbury."

"Hey, call me Julia. It's probably time, right?"

Severus lifted his chin in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to Lily; "Is Malachi ready?"

"His stuff is ready. Right now –" A clattering overhead drew their attention to the ceiling; "Well, right now he and Harry are…being boys."

Severus raised an eyebrow; "So it would seem." Lily saw his eyes move to the side, in the direction of the others in the room, without moving any other part of his body, before his voice lowered and his voice softened correspondingly; "I appreciate you taking him. I know it must have been an inconvenience –"

"It wasn't an inconvenience." Sirius' voice sounded from the table, having easily heard the exchange, though the tone was by no means amicable. It was hard set and laced with contempt that he seemed unable to keep under control.

Severus' jaw tensed and twitched; he seemed to consider the statement for a second before he finally turned his attention to Sirius. They stared one another down for a moment before he spoke; "Black."

"Snape."

Silence.

"What's wrong with my brother?"

"A curse." Severus' lip curled.

"We knew that from the start. So, you've spent the last three weeks doing – what? Because it sounds like you've still got nothing."

"Perceptive as ever."

Sirius looked like he was going to explode under the strain of reigning in his hatred while Severus stared him down with open distain.

"Surely you could just ask your Death Eater buddies –"

Severus met Lily's eyes at that; she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head – no, he doesn't know – as Sirius carried on without noticing the exchange.

" – what they know about it? It's Dark Magic. Isn't that your forte?"

"Sirius." Lily said, warningly. Sirius met her eyes and she held his look. They had argued the night of Harry's party. Heatedly. It was the first proper argument they had had since he had returned from his search for Peter and it was just a fiery as they had always been before.

This time, though, Lily's message was clear; if Sirius did not back off, did not give her the space she needed, then she and Harry would be gone. No question about it.

Sirius had so far taken the warning to heart and had not mentioned Severus again.

"Black," Julia spoke up; "Why don't we head?" She nodded at the door to the living room. Sirius looked very reluctant to move, even as Julia stood and raised an eyebrow at him.

He drew in a breath, sending a dark look in Severus' direction before he grasped at the crutches and awkwardly hoisted himself upright, following Julia from the room.

Lily turned her attention back to Severus, who was still staring at the door; his own expression revealing the same loathing that Sirius had just been expressing.

"So."

He met her eyes when she spoke.

"How is Regulus really doing?"

The coldness in Severus' expression, still lingering from the exchange with Sirius, dimmed somewhat; revealing the worry that he carried for the other Black brother. But it was there and then it was gone; "The Healers have opted to use protective hypothermia as a means of slowing the spread of the curse. The suppressants used previously are beginning to becoming ineffective."

"Do you need anything?"

Severus looked at her, eyes softening, and he shook his head; "No. Thank you. You've already done enough." He glanced upwards; "I do appreciate you taking Malachi for this time. I had not…I did not mean for it to be so long."

Severus opted to forget the fact he had offered to take Malachi back twice already, this being the third, and that Lily had offered to keep him longer each time he had asked. This week, he had been insistent; the boy was his responsibility.

"It's okay." Lily smiled; "He's not been any trouble and, y'know, Sirius –" his expression flickered slightly –"Well, he doesn't say it but he really appreciated the time with him too."

"It was not for him."

"Alright," Lily rolled her eyes, giving him a little nudge as she walked past him, wondering at his oddly distant demeanour; "Do you want some tea?"

"No. Just the boy and then we'll go."

She walked back, holding an empty mug and raising an eyebrow; "I haven't seen you in three weeks and you just want to take off? We could catch up. Sirius was going to take the boys flying."

Severus looked oddly uncomfortable, glancing in the direction of the window, as if looking for anyone who might be watching them.

Lily frowned at the behaviour; "Uh, Sev? This is my house. No prying eyes here."

"Speaking of which," he said, briskly; "The Foundation shall be opening again next week."

Lily's eyes widened; "Really? I…the last I heard people weren't sure if we'd even be opening again at all."

"It was just decided today."

Severus' behaviour was…off.

He seemed oddly tense, compared to the previous relaxed way he had been with her before all of this had happened. He met her eyes for merely a second before they darted away, as if not wanting to let them linger too long; as if he was uncomfortable just being there. With her.

The thought made her pause, as the realisation came to her; that it was probably because of what had happened right before the attack.

She had almost kissed him.

Caught up in the moment, maybe, but the intent had been there and she was certain that Severus had been aware of it. She'd noticed the way his breathing quickened for a second, before it seemed to stop all together as he'd just gazed at her. He'd looked into her eyes, at her lips; all signs, she thought, that he would be a pretty willing participant in what was about to come next.

Perhaps she had misjudged his feelings on the matter. He certainly didn't seem all that keen to be close to her now. In fact, he made the effort to step away whenever she moved in any direction; keen to keep a good two metres or so between them.

His mixed signals were confusing her. Hot and cold. She supposed this was his one-foot-out-the-door mode, the one she was particularly wary of spooking. And one there had been no sign of that day on the grass.

Severus had taken her hand. Had been so open with her when she had asked about what had happened during the war. And when he had spoken, she had seen a vulnerability in him that she already knew was there, had seen glimpses of in the past, but that he always seemed to keep buried away.

His guard had dropped and he'd revealed himself to her. Shown enough of himself and who he had become that any reservations Lily had previously about their relationship, what they could be, had simply slipped away. They had become insignificant in the face of the reality of the man before her.

Now, though, the guard was back up. Way up.

Severus was barely even looking at her as he shifted on his feet, eyes glancing around the kitchen; not really interested in what was there, she could tell, only doing so he didn't have to look at her.

Lily felt suddenly embarrassed and, for the moment at least, was glad of Severus' reserved nature; that there was no way he'd turn around and ask to discuss the whole thing.

Maybe they could just pretend it hadn't happened.

She felt an uneasy jolt as considered her earlier thought; that she could scare him away if she made a wrong move.

Had she already done so?

Running footsteps sounded on the stairs and then Malachi's voice sounded; "Severus!"

The little boy's expression lit up when he set eyes on his Godfather. Severus raised an eyebrow at the boy but Lily could see a fondness in his eyes when he spoke; "Malachi. Shall we go?"

Malachi nodded, seemingly at total ease with the command in Severus' voice. He ran from the kitchen into the living room, leaving Harry standing and staring at Severus with the same shamelessness that Sirius and Julia had been regarding him with when he first arrived.

Severus stared right back at him.

And then Harry smiled; "Hi Professor Snape!"

Severus looked away; "Mr Potter."

Lily was struck with the realisation that this was probably the same tone he used when addressing his students.

"Thanks, Uncle Sirius! Bye!" Malachi came back in, a broomstick clutched in his hand, sending Lily a bright smile; "Thank you for letting me stay, Mrs Potter."

Lily smiled, returning the shy hug he offered, before he hoisted his bag from the floor and walked up to Severus with a smile; "I'm ready."

"What is that?"

Malachi glanced at the item in his hand; "It's a broom."

Severus eyed it.

"Uncle Sirius gave it to me! Can…can I keep it?"

Severus said nothing, just urged him by with a hand to the shoulder and the boy's smile brightened, as he called goodbye to Harry.

Severus met Lily's eyes while Malachi pulled the door open.

"I'll see you next week, then?" she said, forcing aside the little uneasy twist in her stomach that had started to form. Tried to push aside thoughts about the almost-kiss, when she considered that Severus' behaviour now was probably his rejection of it; withdrawing into himself in the hopes that she would get the message.

Kissing was most definitely a no-go area for them.

"Yes." He seemed hesitant, like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. After a moment he just nodded and stepped from the kitchen, into the outdoors, clicking the door shut behind him.

Lily's eyes went to the open window, as Severus made his way up the path. Malachi was swerving side to side up ahead as he walked, splashing in the puddles as he did so, not quite a run but not walking either, and she heard Severus' voice carry back when he spoke.

"It seems that Black has suitably corrupted you."

Lily's lips twitched but the amusement was almost hollow; the feeling dampened by the mistake she had made.

Her foolishness in thinking that Severus could have wanted anything more than friendship in the first place.

* * *

Lily sank down into the familiar chair.

Registered the familiar sounds of hushed chatter, faint clattering, feet scuffling on by the doorway; familiar smells that surrounded her; familiar brown eyes that stared straight through her.

It was just as it had always been.

Except, Lily hadn't been here for months.

Not since before Christmas.

Not since before she had made a promise to her little boy; that she would finally let go.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke; "Hey, James."

Nothing.

When she and James had been young, early in their relationship when she had fallen pregnant with Harry, they had talked about the future. They had conjured up an idea, a path in their minds that they would follow; where it would lead.

"Do you remember?" She stared at her hands where they lay clasped above the sheets; neither touching nor looking at him; "The three of us; a cottage in the country. You and Harry playing on the grass. Me tending to herbs in the vegetable garden. Maybe another little one there with me." It was something simple; they hadn't overthought it. Just a family; a life.

It was a future she had clung to for years, even after she had lost him. For a long time, it was all she could see; she, James and Harry together. In the little fantasy world that the two of them had conjured up in their youth.

A promise she had held on to.

A fantasy that had slowly eaten away at her reality; a dream that had prevented her from living. Losing herself and missing so much; so much of her little boy's life that, soon, he wouldn't be a little boy anymore. He would be eleven and off to Hogwarts and she'd have missed it all.

It was so far removed from where they were now. And yet not; Harry had a family. A life that she had barely even been present in for the past few years.

"I haven't given him that. I haven't given him anything."

Until recently; until now.

Lily had made a promise and had started moving on without even realising it. She had done the unthinkable. She had walked away. One step after the next until she had suddenly found herself looking into the eyes of another and seeing something more.

Something more than the raw pain of fear and loss that haunted her past and something more than the little spark of an idea for the future that she and James had in their youth.

For the first time in so long, she'd looked at the future and not been afraid of what lay ahead. Had not shied away from it.

Rather than the little fantasy she had held onto in her mind, she had finally looked and seen something real.

It didn't matter, she told herself, that Severus hadn't felt it. That he had shied away from it. That wasn't what was important; she wouldn't demand he be the one if that wasn't what he wanted. He had given her something more that day. More than just hope, it was conviction; the last little bit that she needed to tell her that, yes, she could do this.

She could take the next steps, she could find something more, she could love again.

She could take that vision of the future she had with James and lock it away, finally accept it for what it was; a fantasy.

Lily's eyes flickered back and forth between those of her husband; "I tried, James. I really tried."

But it all felt wrong, somehow. This new strength. There was still something here, holding her back, and, she'd realised that morning that she knew what it was. For all her talk of letting go; she hadn't yet found it within herself to say goodbye.

"I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if you're still there." Lily swallowed, drawing in a breath as she reached for his hand; "If you are, then I'm sorry. But I held on for so long. I've missed too much."

She tightened her hand around his, raising her eyes to look at him; one last time.

"I don't regret a single second…And I won't ever forget."

James only stared back at her.

She lifted her chin, her conviction evident despite the softness in her voice when she spoke again; "I love you so much. But...I have to go."

She stood and leaned over; pressed her lips to his forehead, letting them linger there a second before she breathed out in a whisper; "Goodbye James."

* * *

"- the caterers should arrive around noon. And we'll have to see to it that the entertainers are provided with a meal on arrival. Or would you rather we arrange something for after the function? Regulus usually –"

Severus forced himself to stay focused on what Narcissa Malfoy was saying but he hadn't slept a full night all week and he was itching to get on with reading the parchments that lay on the desk; little scratches of information about blood curses that another researcher in Albania had sent him that day.

"Whatever you think is best." Severus said, when Narcissa finally stopped for breath.

At his concession she continued and Severus allowed her to ramble on about the nonsense she had decided to distracted herself with in the aftermath of her sister's death. Her cousin's incapacitation. Lucius had informed him that Narcissa's behaviour had become rather…erratic as a result, wanting to keep busy and find something other than the lingering fear that another attempt against Regulus – or the Blacks in general – could be imminent.

Lucius had wanted to keep both she and Draco in Vienna for the remainder of the year but Narcissa had returned against his wishes; stating she would not be the coward of the family. And, provoking a further row, had defied Lucius' instructions to stay away from the Foundation and approached Severus to be put to work on the upcoming functions that Regulus had previously given the go-ahead.

Lucius was not pleased.

But, unable to stop her, he had gone to Severus instead and asked him – rather, instructed him – that Narcissa be kept safe and under his protection throughout the time she was there.

Severus reached up, pressing his fingers to his temples, willing the dull aching that thudded within his skull to cease. He accioed a vial from the cabinet, downing the pain suppressant in one quick gulp, as Narcissa carried on discussing the finer details of the Fundraising event she was planning which was also to serve as a memorial to the six who had died in Eugene's attack.

"Severus." Her voice took on a concerned note; "You don't look well."

He met her eyes sharply.

Narcissa was regarding him in that clucky-mother-hen way that women were so apt to do whenever they thought the situation warranted it.

Severus waved a hand, dismissively; "A mere headache."

"How have you been doing?"

"Fine."

Narcissa looked sceptical; "You don't look fine. Have you been sleeping? I know Lucius said you have been concerning yourself with finding a counter-curse for Regulus."

Severus gave a noncommittal shrug, fingering the parchments on his desk. Applications for the various roles that had suddenly opened up within the Foundation, in light of the recently dead.

"Narcissa, I am grateful for the concern but I'm sure you're aware that I've endured worse than a little sleep deprivation," Severus stated, when he saw she was about to go on.

"Nevertheless, I insist we take Malachi for the weekend. It will give you the chance to rest. And…it would be good to see him."

Severus hesitated, meeting her eyes, forcing himself not to jump at the chance and appear too eager to have the boy go away for a little while. He had so far spent seven days and nights with him – in the tiny cramped quarters of his at Hogwarts, to boot, Newton's no longer safe in light of the knowledge about Eugene – and, as much as he may like him, taking care of a child was exhausting and a waste of his energy.

Especially at this time, when he wanted nothing more than to be working on helping Regulus, barely having the time to do so while he juggled the unpleasantness of childcare with interviewing various dunderheads for the new vacancies, meetings with Department Heads about subjects he knew very little about, while balancing Regulus' responsibilities within the Foundation with his own in the Research department.

Not to mention the fact that the new intake of students at Hogwarts seemed to be particularly stupid this year.

He simply did not have the time to take care of Malachi properly. And the newfound buoyancy the child had acquired having spent three weeks with his insufferable uncle had not helped matters, with the boy frequently asking Severus to take him flying on his new broom.

"Of course. I would not deprive the child of the chance to spend time with family," Severus said simply. Narcissa fought a smile.

"How is he?"

"He is well."

Narcissa looked surprised; "Really? He hasn't been asking about Reg?"

Severus paused, frowning a little; "I…" Now that he thought about it Malachi had asked frequently about his father, often asking if they could visit or if the Healers had managed to do anything more for him.

"He's concerned."

Narcissa nodded, slowly, looking down at her hands. Her voice was quiet when she spoke; "Is there a chance for him, Severus?"

Severus was silent for a moment and she went on.

"Lucius believes it's only a matter of time."

She met his eyes when he said nothing; he looked away.

Regulus dying.

It was not something he had allowed himself to dwell to deeply on the past few weeks, focusing any and all spare time and energy that he had on finding a cure. A counter curse.

Eugene Hopkins was still at large, the Aurors having found no trace.

Even if Severus could not discover the particulars. Even if he could not fashion a cure himself. There was still a flicker of a chance; the Dark Lord.

The Dark Mark had not yet burned black but there was a faint sting that had gradually made itself known.

Even if Regulus' loyalties were questioned, Severus doubted his old master would simply stand back and allow him to wither away and die over some blood curse that had been cast; no, at the very least he would revive him if only to make him suffer his wrath before ultimately killing him.

It wasn't exactly a preferable option but Regulus' chances of survival were much better now.

It was ironic, that the very event he and Regulus had dreaded and wished to prevent for so long was now the latter's best hope.

All Severus had to do was ensure that nothing arose to make the currently active Death Eaters question Regulus' standing. And, if any of them did, that they be prevented from relaying it to their master when he returned.

This new surge of support from the public towards Regulus made that slightly…complicated. They could not have chosen a worse time to rally behind him. But that could be explained away if Regulus could only think quickly on his feet; if the Dark Lord were to revive Regulus he would have mere seconds to gather his thoughts, to figure out what had happened and who he was facing and to make a convincing appearance of servitude to him.

Regulus had been good at hiding his emotions from others so far for the past few years.

Severus only hoped it could stand the ultimate test.

"So, you're happy with the particulars then?"

Severus met Narcissa's eyes, drawn from his thoughts. She raised her eyebrows, expectantly.

"The particulars?"

"For the Fundraiser."

"Ah. Yes. Whatever you want to do is fine, Narcissa," Severus said, feeling suddenly drained. He passed a hand through his hair, before reaching for the schedule for the next day; "You'll find Malachi in the Learning Centre."

Narcissa nodded, standing and taking her leave. Severus, in his weariness, almost forgot to stand and awkwardly got to his feet; "If he is any trouble just –"

"He won't be, Severus." She smiled at him warmly and then she gave a jolt; "Oh. I almost forgot." She reached into her robes, tugging out a small, wrapped package; "Lucius asked me to give this to you."

She held it out and he took it, curiously; turning it over in hands. A book.

"He asked that you treat it with…discretion."

Severus paused, meeting her eyes.

She shot him a meaningful look in response, easily confirming his suspicions.

Why had she not given him this at the start?

He cleared his throat, straightening; "Of course."

Narcissa gave him a small smile and nodded but seemed hesitant to leave. Severus wished she would, eager to investigate Lucius' findings, his fingers drumming impatiently against the paper that concealed the hardback within his hands.

"Severus."

He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Be careful. There are some things… things that Regulus would not want you to do."

Severus frowned.

Narcissa held his eyes meaningfully before she nodded and stepped back, her smile brightening and, for all intents and purposes, it looked incredibly convincing and Severus almost marvelled at it. At the way the Blacks could muster up such convincingly jovial fronts.

"I'll see you again soon."

He nodded his goodbye, waiting until she had stepped from the room, the door clicking shut behind her before he tore the paper from the object in his hand, glancing down at the title Lucius had managed to acquire.

The Darkest Arts: The Mysteries of Blood and Souls

* * *

There was an incessant tapping.

It nudged him to consciousness.

Severus bolted upright. Blinked. And then realised he had fallen asleep at his desk at the Foundation, head atop of the book that Lucius had given him. He glanced at the timepiece on the wall; 11.40pm.

The tapping started up again and he realised it was a knocking; someone at the door.

Severus frowned, closing the book, wondering who would still be in the building at such an hour; "Enter."

The door opened slowly and the offender peeked their head inside.

Lily.

Severus smiled before he could help himself and she returned it, his response seeming to give her the confidence to step in fully and shut the door behind her; "I saw your light on. It's late."

"It is. I'm surprised you're still here."

"A few of us still are; we're well behind. Chesney is brewing a formation and we wanted to see the results."

Severus didn't say anything, content simply to listen to the sound of her voice. He hadn't seen her in a few days and, even when he had when the project had commenced on the Monday, he hadn't had time to speak with her properly.

But that was probably for the best.

It wouldn't do for them to be noticed; to be talked about as they had been before. Severus had been concerned about the implications of Lucius, of Death Eaters hearing or suspecting something; wanted to keep Lily completely off of the Dark Lord's radar when he returned. But Severus had not counted on the fact that dangers lay within the Foundation walls, also.

"How are you?" Lily was looking at him with the same concerned expression Narcissa had regarded him with.

Severus nodded; "Well."

A little puff of air escaped her lips; "Yes, you look it."

His lips twitched and he longed to stand, to go to her. He stayed seated.

Lily stepped closer, coming to the desk, and he subtly drew a piece of parchment over to cover the book he had been reading; an old habit from their friendship, their time before, when they had bickered and debated heatedly over the Dark Arts and his interest in them.

Lily looked a little uncomfortable, like she wasn't sure if she should be there at all. Really, she shouldn't. But Severus didn't have the strength to send her away. He cast a quiet muffliato instead, casually flicking his wand to close the blinds of the window behind him.

Lily sat down, not questioning it.

"I wanted to come and see you sooner but I guessed you were busy."

Severus nodded, waving a hand at the parchments scattered across the desk; "Mostly interviews. The Department Heads offered to deal with them but…in light of recent events, I wished to screen them myself."

"I can see why you would." Lily glanced at them, tilting her head curiously; "Head of Research – shouldn't the role go to you?"

"I don't have time for it."

"Not even when Regulus comes back?"

"Hogwarts."

"Oh."

Lily spoke as if Regulus' recovery was certain, that it was only a matter of time before he was to return; Severus preferred that. Her optimism was a quality of hers that he had both loved and that had irritated him ever since they were children; he could rarely muster up any of his own but hers was like a light that he couldn't help but follow.

"And did any of them survive the test?"

Severus rolled his eyes and his own lips twitched; "No."

She shook her head, grinning widely, the last of her discomfort seeming to fade away; "I doubt any of them would be able to impress you, Sev." She reached for an application, eyes glancing quickly over the page; "Look, here's someone who ran the Slugg Scholarships; surely they'd have some useful qualities and connections to bring to the Foundation?"

"He smiled too much."

Lily laughed.

"Sev –"

"Someone who smiles so much cannot be genuine."

Lily met his eyes, raising an eyebrow; "I smile a lot."

Severus nodded, slowly; "That you do. But I can see that…" He hesitated, anything he planned to say sounding far too overly-sentimental to be voiced.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes, and when he looked back she had turned her attention back to the parchments on the desk, but he could see a faint blush on her cheeks, an appealing little dimple gracing the side of her mouth and he could roll his eyes at himself for thinking how adorable she looked.

Lily had almost kissed him some weeks before.

The thought came to him quickly; the little longing that tugged in his stomach as he looked at her now reminding him of that. He remembered the feel of his hands in hers and her breath against his skin, so close, and he felt the longing intensify.

Lily's eyes flicked from the parchments, up to his, and she gave him an adorable, mischievous smile, oblivious to his musings.

She leaned back, lifting the parchment she held; "Evangeline Freymore. A leading Healer in the Erienta Clan in the Philippines – this is the cult Julia used to run with."

"Ah." Severus remembered the odd, eccentric witch he had interviewed earlier that day; "Flighty."

Lily chuckled, reaching for another application, and before he could do anything, she pulled the piece of parchment he had moved to cover the Dark Arts book Narcissa had given him. Lily didn't seem to notice at first, her eyes going to the application she had picked up.

She glanced over it while he unconsciously tensed, glancing down at the book; wondering if he would be able to pick it up and put it on a shelf without her noticing what it was.

But no, it didn't take her long to notice. She seemed to pick up on his tenseness, glancing at him, and then down; her eyes landing on the title.

Lily only stared at it for a few seconds until after a moment, she drew in a breath, looking back at the parchment she was holding; "This one sounds promising." Her voice had lost its playful edge, the lightness she had been speaking with a moment before, but he appreciated her attempt at feigning it; "Five years working with rare species in South America." Lily nodded, trying to keep up her air of indifference; "Interesting."

Severus watched her, as she pretended to read it. She didn't meet his eyes but he noticed her eyes flick in the direction of the book once more, just for a second.

He shifted and she looked up. She gave a smile, a forced one.

"As I can tell when your smiles are genuine, Lily, I am also aware when they are not."

Lily looked hesitantly at him, her smile fading, and he caught a glimpse of surprise in her eyes. He had surprised himself. In the past, he was never the one to broach the subject, not since the first time he had gone to her with a discovery he had made while reading about the Dark Arts. Excited and desperate to share his findings with his best friend.

Lily hadn't wanted to hear it.

The Dark Arts were evil. End of.

And Severus hadn't approached her about them since. Never wanting to experience the twist of disappointment, of shame in his gut that came when she had looked at him back then, green eyes suspicious and disapproving.

Now, though, he felt the sudden need to explain. To make her see.

"I have to." His voice was calm; "For Regulus."

Lily held his look. After a second, she nodded, slowly; "I know."

She drew in a breath, meeting his eyes; "Why can't you cure it with Light Magic?"

"You know why, Lily. A curse can only be lifted by that which forged it."

"But Dark Magic was used in Hogwarts all the time by Slytherin's; we were able to lift those hexes and jinxes easily."

"Yes. With Dark Magic."

Lily looked doubtful.

"Dark Magic is not used only for malevolent purposes. Nevertheless, the lifting of hexes and jinxes hardly make a mark on a soul. Even hexing and jinxing are miniscule in the grander scheme. It is only when the magic is particularly advanced that it begins to erode."

"That doesn't make sense –"

"Doesn't it? Dark Magic is defined by drawing on a source that is considered unnatural; in most cases, that is the soul of the caster, leading to the corruption you speak of. But there are other sources. Someone particularly powerful may draw on the elements, although that can be temperamental at best. Someone more so may be able to redirect the aftershock to draw upon the soul of the person against whom they are cursing, leading to the destruction of the mind. That, I believe, is what happened to your husband?"

Lily jerked slightly, looking both surprised and shaken at his mentioning of James Potter.

"Some are able to fuel the magic by blood; an ancient art that fell away with time. That is what we are dealing with here."

Lily glanced back at the book, mulling over his words.

Severus fingered it; "Information regarding it is as rare as the magic itself."

"Then where did you get that?"

Severus met her eyes; "Just trust me, Lily."

Lily held his eyes before she nodded, slowly; "I do." She shifted; "I just…I don't…"

"Understand?"

Lily's eyes narrowed.

Severus crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back; "Your father. He was a doctor, wasn't he?"

She nodded, needlessly; Severus remembered her parents well. Her father was a doctor; her mother a teacher.

"And he specialised in a particularly nasty muggle disease; was it not necessary for him to study it, to learn all he could about it, in order to be able to do all he could to fight it?"

"That's hardly the same," Lily insisted; "Learning about and fighting it didn't put his soul in danger, Severus."

"My soul is perfectly fine," Severus assured her; "I'm not a fool, Lily. I know how to protect myself."

Lily sighed, nodding; "Okay. Right. I get it."

A silence descended over them, though there was an understanding in the air that had never been there in the past. This time, she did get it. That if they were going to fight the Dark Arts, they needed to know all they could about it.

Severus never really understood people's reluctance to learn all they could about them.

Surely even those who believed them to believe to be the ultimate evil were aware of the fact that it paid to know your enemy.

Especially considering that they had been fighting a war that relied upon them so heavily.

And it wasn't as if those on the side of the light were so noble that they wanted nothing to do with the Dark Arts; the Ministry had legalised the use of the Unforgivables. Dumbledore's men, the Aurors, they had used them just as the Death Eaters had back then.

It was senseless; their decision to remain ignorant.

"If it's happening again," Lily finally spoke up; "Then we should know how to fight them."

Severus tilted his head, as she put voice to his thoughts; "That would be advisable."

"Sirius spoke with Dumbledore a few weeks ago, when the Death Eaters first began to rise. He told me it's only a matter of time before he calls on the Order."

Severus eyed her, not liking the turn of conversation; "I see."

"I'm a little rusty…You know, at duelling."

"Then don't."

Severus knew very well what Lily was getting at; the Order would reform and she would be with them. She would be fighting with them.

That would not do.

How was he supposed to keep her concealed from the Dark Lord, keep her apart from his notice, if she was outright fighting against him. Against the Death Eaters. The Order members were particularly coveted kills.

Lily raised an eyebrow; "I can handle myself, Severus."

"You just said you can't duel."

"I didn't say I can't duel. I said I needed practice. It has been six years."

"Lily –" Severus cut himself off, hearing the pleading in his voice. He glanced away, before looking back at her; "Surely, having being one of those hunted specifically in the last war, you can see how…imprudent it would be to draw attention to yourself."

"I was hunted by Voldemort, Severus. He's dead. Me being involved would not draw any more attention than anyone else re-joining."

Severus pursed his lips together, averting his eyes.

"Will you show me?"

"Show you what?"

"How to fight them. The Dark Arts."

Severus eyed her, uncertainly.

He didn't want to show her; to train her up. He wanted to take her and lock her in a cupboard until all this was over and there was no danger to her whatsoever. He wanted to tell her that she was being foolish; convince her to run, hide.

But he knew how such a suggestion would be taken; Lily would not hide. She would fight.

There was a set determination in her eyes that told him that, even if he refused her request – which he had a very strong inclination that she knew he wouldn't – that she would just go ahead and fight anyway. And would he really let her do that, go back into the fight, without knowledge that he could provide her with that could potentially save her life?

No. He wouldn't.

They both knew that.

If she was going to fight, he would do everything he could to make sure she was prepared. If he could not conceal her, could not protect her, he would make damn sure she was able to protect herself.

Severus pulled his wand from his sleeve, standing; "Very well."

Lily looked up at him, surprise suddenly evident in her features; "Wha – now?" Her eyes went to the timepiece.

Severus' own followed; it was past midnight.

"Yes. Now."

It was actually ideal.

It would not do for someone to spot him training her and that was far less likely to happen in the dead of night.

Lily was looking at him uncertainly, like he was crazy, but she seemed reluctant to refuse the offer now that she had secured it. She drew in a breath and nodded, standing, and drawing her own wand; "Alright."

Severus gave a brief flick and all the furniture in the room shrunk and moved aside, up against the walls.

He reached out for her arm, letting his fingers linger there for a moment after he had guided her to the other side of the room; unable to resist the opportunity to touch.

Severus took a place opposite, several feet away, and raised an eyebrow.

"You first."


	25. October 1987: Spiraling

So far that evening, Severus had proven her worries to be unfounded. While he had been distant with her at the house, leading to her musings that she may have frightened him off, there was no sign of that side of him tonight.

If anything, he had seemed to welcome her company when she had come into the room, unable to help being drawn to the door when she noticed the candlelight flickering, tellingly, on the floor beneath it.

Then again, this could just be 'Other-Severus', as she had started to call him in her mind; in order words, the Severus who was open, warm and eager to be around her. So far removed from the Severus who had come to the house the previous weekend – who had looked ready to jump out the window any time she had gotten too close.

"Lily."

She was startled from her thoughts by the impatience in his voice.

"It is customary to begin once the formalities have taken place."

Lily gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged, lifting her wand and flicking it in his direction; "Rictusempra!"

Severus blocked it with ease. He eyed her, looking unimpressed; "A tickling hex. Really, Lily, I expected better."

Lily narrowed her eyes, sending a jelly-legs jinx his way.

Blocked again.

"Perhaps you would prefer it if I was blindfolded?"

Arrogant prat.

She sent a trip jinx his way and Severus stumbled but her triumph was short-lived when he straightened and lowered his wand; "Lily, what is this nonsense?"

"Nonsense?"

"Precisely. You were a member of the Order, for Merlin's sake. These spells, they are Hogwarts trivialities."

Lily gave him an innocent smile, lifting her shoulders in an unassuming shrug; "I just don't want to hurt you, Sev."

Severus' lips twitched and Lily thought for sure that he was going to laugh again but he managed to stop himself, clearing his throat instead, though he couldn't conceal a smirk; "I think I can –"

"Flipendo!"

Severus landed on his behind. His baffled expression made Lily giggle. She quickly supressed them when he met her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, getting to his feet and brushing down his robes; "Lily. Hit me with a real spell."

"These are real spells. Stinging hexes aren't exactly the most pleasant of feelings in the world." If she actually managed to hit him with them, her mind added.

"They pale in comparison to the Cruciatus."

Lily's smile faded.

"Which is the true nature of the spells we are supposed to be training you in how to fight." Severus straightened, adopting 'Professor Snape' mode; "Now, concentrate. I know you can do better. There was a particularly impressive curse you managed to cast during the battle at Edna Creek; let's try that."

Lily, who had her wand risen, ready to fire another hex his way, hesitated at his words. She lowered her wand with a frown; "You were there?"

Severus lifted his chin.

"I…I didn't know."

"I was masked."

The admission threw her.

Yes, she had known Severus had been a Death Eater, he had told her that. Back then, before she had become reacquainted with him, she had even suspected as much. But the reality that not only had he been one of them but that he had actually stood opposite her, had seen her, during one – and probably more - of the battles with the Order gave her pause.

"Did…" She hesitated, while Severus only held her look; "Did you and I ever fight?"

Severus lifted his eyes, skywards, and Lily thought he was going to roll them but he didn't. Instead, he made a dramatic show of thinking; "I believe you once hit me with a body bind during an encounter. The other attempts I managed to avoid."

Lily thought about it, couldn't remember any events that stood out. Body binds were something she had used frequently back then.

"Lily."

She looked at him.

"The spell?"

Lily cast a body bind spell which he easily deflected. She ducked when a corresponding spell shot her way; not expecting it after his recent defence-only mode. She sent another; a jelly-legs jinx.

Blocked.

A stinging hex.

Deflected.

Severus was becoming impatient.

"Lily. If you are too afraid to use curses, then this whole endeavour is pointless."

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Blocked.

"Vaporus!"

Steam suddenly filled the room and, before Severus could clear it she sent the curse he had asked for; "Einlatus!"

She heard a yelp escape him, as the vapour quickly vanished, and Severus stood, doubled over, with his hands to his ears; fingers digging into his temples.

Lily hurried over, quickly casting the counter-curse; "I'm sorry!" She grasped his arm, as he gradually lowered his hands. Lily noticed a little bit of blood on his palm.

Severus met her eyes and she shook her head, apologising again, and he raised an eyebrow; "Better."

He straightened up and she stepped back, reluctantly letting go of his arm, feeling terrible that she had actually caused him pain; "I –"

"Lily, it is a wonder you have survived any duels when you demonstrate so much remorse over casting a simple curse during a practice session."

Lily pursed her lips together, feeling irritated; "I told you. I don't want to hurt you."

"If you're serious about this then pain is necessary."

He nodded towards the other side of the room, indicating that she go back.

Lily headed over, speaking as she did so; "It's not exactly a practice session when you're not fighting back."

"I'm assessing your abilities."

Lily shot him a look over her shoulder.

Severus rolled his eyes; "I shall engage you, if that would make it a more authentic experience for you."

"It would." She took her place.

She raised her eyebrows, expectantly, an indication that he should start this time and he sent a hex her way; she blocked it, quickly sending one towards him.

"Expelliarmus!"

"You know non-verbal spells I presume?"

"Some."

Not a lot. She hadn't really needed them; everyone shouted and yelled their spells during the battles. Any non-verbals she knew she had learned from Severus when they were at Hogwarts. She could perform an 'accio' without speaking, a 'lumos', a few transfiguration charms but the only really defensive or aggressive spell she could cast non-verbally was the 'levicorpus'.

"Concentrate." Severus' voice was snappy.

Lily sent a stinging hex his way, striking him on the arm; he sent a corresponding one at her and she ducked, only to be hit by a second and she felt her legs wobble beneath her.

"Locomotor mortis!"

Severus deflected it.

"Expelliarmus!"

Blocked.

Lily quickly cast the counter-spell to the jelly-legs hex Severus had cast on her before she sent another spell his way; the only non-verbal she knew and the one Severus had taught her himself.

Levicorpus.

Severus was suddenly upside down. He titled his head upwards and glanced down at the ground beneath him, then lowered his chin and met her eyes. He raised an eyebrow; "This is familiar."

Lily felt suddenly uneasy; the amusing irony of using one of the spells he had taught her fading away as another memory came back to her. To them both, considering what he had just said.

Lily made to apologise but she was suddenly hit with a body-bind curse – her speciality – and hit the ground.

Lily glared up at him from where she now lay immobile on the ground.

"You're too driven by your emotions," Severus stated, as he released himself from the levicorpus spell she had cast, landing inelegantly in a heap on the ground next to her. He got to his feet, releasing her with a wave of his wand. He reached down, helping her to her feet, even though she didn't need it.

"I didn't think I was that bad."

"You hesitated. In a real battle that would prove deadly."

"You know why I stopped, Sev."

Severus crossed his arms across his chest, though his eyes softened as he looked down at her; "I thought we agreed months ago to leave the past in the past."

"We did. But –"

"No buts, Lily. It does no good for us to dwell on events that have long since passed." His uncrossed his arms; "Do not let your emotions guide you."

Lily opened her mouth to speak but he stepped back.

"Emotions make you readable. Your opponents can easily pick up on your next move. You need to keep control. Discipline your mind."

Lily thought about what he was saying. And then she frowned, raising her eyes to his. He met her look evenly.

Lily straightened, indignantly; "You were using legilliemency."

"Only when it could not be helped. Although it was hardly necessary."

"That's cheating!"

"There's no cheating when it comes to battling to the death."

"And we were battling to the death?"

"I'll assume the question is rhetorical, as you're still breathing."

And then his Professor-mode fell away and he smirked. Lily shoved against him; "You're such an ass."

"I have my moments." Severus conceded, looking away, and Lily thought she felt his hand graze her arm from a second before he took a step back.

Lily ran a hand through her hair as she considered what he had just said; he had used legilliemency and, it seemed, that was a huge advantage over an opponent. Her thoughts didn't need to be voiced as they were so obvious but the consideration that followed did.

"Are any of the other Death Eaters skilled in legilliemency?"

Severus met her eyes.

After all, if the Death Eaters could simply read her mind, the mind of the others fighting for the Order, then they didn't stand a chance. They would know what they were going to do before they even did it.

Severus shook her head when she expressed her fears; "It doesn't work that way. A Legillimens cannot read minds; they can only see glimpses into the mind of memories, not thoughts, and from that they can make their own deductions of facts. It is almost impossible for a legillimens to maintain the sort of focus necessary to do so in battle and anticipate another's move."

He tucked away his wand; "It is used mostly as a means of identifying deceit. Often, when a person is untrue, memories will arise that contradict the lie."

Lily was confused; "But you just admitted you were using legilliemency."

"Sometimes, if the opponent is motivated or under the influence of a particular emotion, the resulting weakening of the mind's defences make it easier for me to anticipate their intentions."

"An emotion? What kind?"

"Anything that leads to a loss of control. Hate. Anger."

Lily did not remember feeling either during their duel. She made to voice that and then hesitated when Severus glanced away from her, not meeting her eyes.

Oh.

Lily paused and then suddenly found herself immensely curious; "What do you see when you look into my mind?"

Severus met her eyes.

"Lily. I haven't looked."

"You just said you did."

"During the duel. And it could not be helped."

Lily frowned; "But if you could read me and I am as transparent as you say, shouldn't I take measures to conceal the thoughts?"

"Like I said, legilliemency during battle is incredibly hard to accomplish."

At her sceptical look he went on.

"In such circumstances a legillimens only sees what you allow them to see."

"And you block what you don't allow with occlumency."

"It helps if you do not wear your heart on your sleeve. But yes, under normal circumstances, occlumency is the necessary way."

"Which I don't know."

"You do not need occlumency, Lily; the reason I can see what you are planning to do is because you have left your mind open to me."

Lily was confused at the statement, at the implication that her mind was open only to him, and she wondered what he meant. Severus glanced away when she held his eyes too long.

Other-Severus was reverting back to One-Foot-Out-the-Door-Severus.

"Teach me."

She blurted it out, wanting to halt the Jekyll-to-Hyde transformation she was certain was coming.

Severus met her eyes.

She straightened; "You can look."

Severus looked uneasy, shaking his head; "It is not necessary. It would be…a waste of time."

Lily only raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze. And, after a moment, he sighed and she knew he'd given in.

* * *

Severus didn't want to look into Lily's mind.

It was habit, to use legilliemency during battles; it was the way he fought. Always had been.

But he had never been able to see into another's mind so easily during a duel before. Her defences were down, utterly and completely, and he easily caught glimpses of her intentions. He caught little flashes of the Edna Creek battle he mentioned, as she tried to remember if she had seen him there.

He caught glimpses of himself and Lily sitting at a desk in Potions, a memory he knew to be of himself teaching her the new spell he had created. Levicorpus.

He saw himself suspended in the air by one James Potter and his insufferable cronies; Lily standing before him. Mudblood echoing in his ears.

To actually use Legilliemency, in the manner in which she was asking, would be foolish. The glimpses during the duel were enough to leave him shaken.

He did not want to see any more.

"Okay, so, how does it work?" Lily was suddenly right in front of him, very close.

Severus jerked back, surprised by the sudden proximity.

Lily frowned.

Severus cleared his throat; "We – you – it is not necessary for us to – "

Why was he stammering? Apparently those tiny glimpses were enough to make him revert back to the bumbling adolescent he had been in those memories.

Blast it all.

Severus cleared his throat, gathering his composure. He reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders and guiding her a couple of steps backwards; "It is not necessary to stand so close. The spell can be performed at distance."

Lily looked a little confused and then she bit her lip, fighting a smile, and looked away.

Severus briefly wondered what was so amusing but didn't dwell on it; "Clear you mind. Of everything. Think of nothing."

"Okay." She nodded; "I'm ready."

Severus drew in a breath and raised his wand, speaking the incantation with such reluctance that he was surprised it worked at all; "Legillimens."

He was careful to only brush the surface.

Her mind was not blank.

Little Harry Potter floated on by; a memory of him sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Smiling, talking to her.

Severus drew back.

"Huh." Lily breathed out, looking awed; "That…that was weird."

"You were supposed to clear your mind." But Severus was glad that she had drawn up such a trivial memory for him to view.

Lily shot him a look; "And you were supposed to be looking into it, the way a Death Eater would. Not petting it. I may be inexperienced but I know that a legillimens isn't restricted to viewing only what my son was having for breakfast that morning."

"It is your mind. I have no control over what it holds."

Lily rolled her eyes, tilting her head to the side.

Severus cleared his throat; "What do you know about occlumency?"

"Uh…it's a shield against…legilliemency?"

"At its most basic, yes. It also had other benefits; it can protect the mind against attacks of most kinds. The neurological effects of the Cruciatus; the use of an opponent relying on the redirection of a Dark spell's effects to draw on another's soul for sustenance; it can protect the mind against the addictive nature of the Dark Arts."

"All these benefits and yet you don't want to teach me," Lily said, with a grin.

Severus met her eyes; knowing she was right and that teaching her occlumency could only be advantageous.

"Legilliemency is not entirely…pleasant."

Lily straightened up, readying herself; "Okay. Go."

"Have you cleared you mind?"

"It was clear. But now I'm feeling impatient."

"Clear your mind."

Lily shot him a glare.

He raised his wand, casting the incantation again, delving deeper this time and Severus suddenly found himself staring into the pretty-much-dead eyes of James Potter. Lily pressed her lips to his forehead; spoke a quiet goodbye.

Severus felt Lily fight against the memory, a recent one, and he quickly drew back.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Snide comments about her inability to keep her mind clear died on his tongue; his discomfort and his confusion over what he had seen rendering him speechless. Lily saying goodbye to Potter.

Severus glanced at her, subtly, and noticed for the first time that night; she wasn't wearing her wedding ring.

Lily's hand suddenly came up, thumb and forefinger rubbing the bare skin where her wedding band ought to be. He lifted his eyes, meeting hers, and they held one another's gaze for a second before he looked away.

Uncertain about how the unexpected memory, and the ensuing discovery, made him feel, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

"I'm sorry. I…"

Severus looked back at her when she spoke.

She swallowed, shaking her head; "I didn't mean for you to have to see that."

Severus cleared his throat; "Until you have mastered it, you will struggle to maintain control over what it is I see. If you would rather we cease –"

"No no," Lily said quickly, shaking her head; "It's fine. I don't mind."

Severus eyed her, before he gave a curt nod; "Alright." He turned to face her more fully and he raised an eyebrow this time, silently telling her to prepare herself.

She gave a nod and, seconds later, he was back inside.

This time, he was suddenly surrounded by memories of himself and Lily. Back when they were children. Severus could have rolled his eyes; this was not what she was supposed to be doing. Her mind was to be clear; instead, she had simply chosen memories she considered to be 'safe' for them to view together.

The whole point of occlumency was that she block his invasion. And yet, Severus couldn't find it within himself to pull away; drawn in by the memories she offered up to him.

Little Lily jumped onto his back down by the river.

"Tell me about Hogwarts again, Sev."

The boy that was him held up a spell book he had found in his mother's bedroom. Lily smiled excitedly, tucking her legs beneath her and leaning in close to him to read the pages.

"Does it make a difference, being muggleborn?"

Lily wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug.

Severus lay down next to her on the grass.

"Sev...Have you ever kissed anyone?"

The memories scattered and another one came in its place; they were suddenly older. They were the people they were now. He was taking her hand and she was staring into his eyes and then her face moved closer to his.

Severus felt Lily fight against the memory but, before he could withdraw, he was suddenly hit with memories of James Potter.

James Potter taking Lily's hand.

"So how does this compare to a date with the Giant Squid?"

James Potter pressing a kiss to her lips.

James Potter getting down on one knee.

"Marry me, Evans. What do you say?"

And the previously warm feelings that had risen within him as they had looked at memories of themselves dwindled, replaced instead by that distinct burning hatred he could never control when he thought about that man.

Lily's voice sounded distant; "Protego!"

And then, suddenly, they weren't looking at Lily's memories anymore.

They were looking at his. His own defences weakened by his emotions, just as he had warned Lily about this very night.

Potter wrapping his scarf around Lily's neck in Hogsmeade.

Potter and Lily walking hand and hand down the corridors of Hogwarts.

Potter making an overdramatic declaration of love for Lily Evans as he stood atop the Gryffindor table while she smiled, blushingly, from below.

Severus rallied against the memories; pushing thoughts of James Potter and Lily Evans away.

"What your step, Snivellus!"

Twelve years old, a curse hit him from behind as he made his way down the stairs of Hogwarts, sending him tumbling.

Potter grabbed him by the arm, hauling him backwards down the tunnel from the Shrieking Shack, as Severus frantically swung his arm, firing a curse at the werewolf that snarled and lunged at them.

"Don't hurt him!"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Potter!"

And then he was suddenly hoisted into the air by the ankle. Soap was in his mouth. James Potter's grinning face was in front of him.

"Filthy little mudblood."

Lily was running away.

Severus felt his back hit the floor as he threw her from his mind and it took a second for him to gather his bearings.

He was on the floor and so was Lily, a few feet away from him.

Severus closed his eyes; well, that went just as brilliantly as he had imagined it would.

He cleared his throat, brushing down his robes, and got to his feet; trying to muster up as much composure as he could, considering the circumstances.

Considering that he had just witnessed the most repellent sight of Lily and Potter in all their love-up glory, just as he remembered it from his youth. And then Lily had then had the pleasure of witnessing him in all his pathetic adolescent glory.

Keep the past in the past he had said, not an hour or so ago, and now it had come back with a vengeance to slap them in the face.

But that wasn't all. That wasn't even the worst of it. He had lost control. Lost control of his own mind in a way he hadn't done in a long time.

And now was most definitely not the time for him to begin losing grip.

"I'm sorry."

Severus looked down at her, where she was still on the floor. For a second he could only stare; this woman whose presence, alone, was enough to send his mind reeling.

Severus cleared his throat, willing himself to remain calm, even if he did feel incredibly rattled. Lucius' earlier warning suddenly seeming far more poignant; Lily Potter was a weakness that was going to get him killed.

He stepped towards her, reaching down and pulling her up; "It is a natural response; to respond with a spell when your mind is attacked."

Lily's eyes glistened and Severus was suddenly struck with the realisation that she might actually cry.

Splendid.

Just when he thought the night couldn't get any better.

"That's not what I meant." Her voice quavered; "I –"

"Lily." His own voice sounded weary; "Don't."

Lily's eyes flicked back and forth between his and he started to draw back; wanting – needing – to put some distance between them.

But then she stepped forward and pressed her face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder; her arms wrapping tight around his waist.

Severus closed his eyes, drawing in a breath, his hands gripping the tops of her arms. He held her there for a moment, let her press tightly against him because, as was always the case, he could never refuse her.

Severus Snape could never be strong when it came to Lily Evans.

His hands tightened and he pulled her from him; "It is late."

Lily lifted her chin to look at him, right at him.

He glanced at the timepiece; an excuse to break eye contact with her. It was now after 2am. His eyes went to the ground, as he took a step back, his hands releasing her.

"You should go."

He turned away, waving his wand and transforming the furniture back to its original state.

He went behind the desk, sitting down, not looking at her even if he knew she was still standing where he had left her. Watching him.

He drew in a breath, lifting his eyes from the parchments he was gathering up. He raised an eyebrow at her, questioningly.

Lily looked desperately like she wanted to speak. That she had something to say.

But she didn't.

She sniffed, reaching up and swiping an eye with the back of her hand and nodded; "Well, goodnight."

Severus gave a nod, saying nothing, and turned his attention back to the parchments he was needlessly organising, not stopping his movement until Lily stepped from the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

* * *

"Offensio Unda!"

Severus was blasted across the room, hitting the wall behind, and Lily cringed at the impact but forced herself not to hesitate or apologise or go to him; really, anything that seemed to invoke the ire of her companion. Which was a lot these past couple of weeks.

While he had started off warm, seemed to open up again, during the first of these sessions, the ensuing disaster of the 'occlumency incident' had seemed to lead him to become more closed off than ever. And she had known better than to suggested further instruction in the practice. Actually, she hadn't intended on coming back for further advice in combat either – wanting to pretend the whole thing had never happened in the first place – but Severus had mentioned, offhandedly, when they had passed in the corridors a couple of days later that he was available that evening if she wanted to continue.

She hadn't wanted to pass up the chance.

Lily threw up a shield charm as Severus sent a stunning spell her way; threw back an 'Einlatus' curse in response that he deflected as he got back to his feet.

A flash of lights filled the room, as the duel continued. Faster than before, less hesitation on either side. Severus had been adamant that she stops holding back and fight the way she would if he were her enemy and had been quite happy to provoke her to it, by implying that she had merely 'been carried along by Sirius Black and her husband's flight of fancy' by joining the Order in the first place.

That had done it.

If Severus wanted to see how she could fight, then so be it. And it had been that way in their duels ever since.

Lily yelped as she hit the ground, one of Severus' spells striking her, and she felt the familiar blistering of a stinging hex shoot from her leg and up her side.

Severus hesitated.

Lily narrowed her eyes at him, firing another hex his way from where she was on the ground; casting a quick healing charm while he was distracted throwing up a shield.

Oh yes, it was okay for Severus to hesitate when she went down but Merlin forbid she should do so when it was him hitting the floor.

She had said as much during one of their earlier sessions and he had only glowered at her. Because she had pointed out that she had managed to floor him on more than one occasion or for some other reason, she didn't know.

Before she got to her feet another spell hit her; a body bind.

And she found herself back on the stone concrete of the office, immobile, with the exception of her eyes which glared up at Severus as he approached with an infuriating little grin on his face.

"Give up?"

She only continued to glower, which she figured was an excellent impression of him from the past few weeks.

Severus waved his wand, freeing her, and she pushed herself up, ignoring his attempt to help her to her feet.

She reached up, brushing a hand through her hair, and felt the damp sweat on her forehead when she did so, looking down at her hand with a look of disgust at the light sheen it had transferred to her palm. Gross.

Lily lifted her eyes, catching Severus watching her; his eyes dark as they skimmed over her. But when they met hers he started slightly, averting his eyes.

Lily felt a smile tug at her lips but supressed it when he looked back at her; "Again?"

Lily glanced at the timepiece; it was almost midnight.

"I'd better go."

Severus nodded, not protesting, and waved his wand as he turned away from her; the furniture he had charmed returning to their normal places and sizes.

Lily hesitated when he went back around the other side of the desk, taking a seat. Offering her neither a parting look nor comment.

"Or, I could stay." She found herself saying, drawing his attention from the book he had pulled towards himself.

"We could…" Her eyes glanced around the room, thinking of an excuse. Her eyes landed on the bottle of firewhiskey on the shelf, which she didn't even know Severus' drank; "Have a nightcap."

Severus glanced from her up to the bottle behind him, then met her eyes, his expression seeming to shut down completely; "I have work to do."

Silence.

"Sorry." He added, after a second, not sounding apologetic in the slightest and he didn't meet her eyes; already looking back down at the book.

Lily felt her teeth grind together at the coldness in his demeanour, which was becoming far more frequent now. All over a stupid kiss. Not even a kiss.

Or was it the memories. James.

Although they had never discussed what they had seen, Lily wasn't an idiot; she could sense the fury radiating off of him as the memories of she and James had hit them, the memories of James and himself, and she felt a chill as she remembered the menacing glint in the eyes of the werewolf as it had lunged for them.

Remus.

Another bone of contention between them. Lily hadn't believed Severus when he had come to her with his theories back then, his suspicions over Remus' condition. Remus was so gentle, so kind, that the idea he could turn into such a dangerous creature at any time was unthinkable to her. Even now.

And yet, it was the truth.

But there was too much to apologise for. It seemed like any time the past came up an apology was on the tip of her tongue. But she never had the opportunity to voice them; Severus didn't seem receptive to any discussion about the past.

Any discussion at all anymore, for that matter.

But; enough.

Lily stepped decidedly forward, dragging the chair on the opposite side of the desk closer with a scrape, and sat down across from him.

Severus kept his head dipped but eyed her warily.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" It came out far more aggressive than she had intended; weeks of frustration erupting with the question.

It wasn't the calm, collected conversation she had been rehearsing in her mind since the coldness from him had started but she supposed it would do.

Severus, not surprisingly, bristled at the tone; "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, Lily." Severus was avoiding her eyes.

"Is this about…"

Her voice dwindled off to silence, courage failing her, because, if it was about the almost-kiss as she was going to ask, did she really want to hear him verbalise his rejection?

"James." She opted for the other possibility and Severus' eyes darkened.

"I do not concern myself with thoughts of your husband." His tone was clipped, as he snapped shut the book in his hands. He tossed it onto the desk and stood, turning away, his response making it perfectly obvious that this was something that grated on him but she doubted that it was the only thing; Severus had been pulling away long before the occlumency session.

"Well, what do you concern yourself with thoughts of?"

"Nothing youought to bother yourself with."

"If you're this angry with me the least you can do is tell me why."

Severus looked at her then; "I'm not angry with you, Lily."

The way he ground out the words suggested otherwise.

"Please. You've been keeping your distance for weeks; you'd think I had a contagious disease. If it hadn't been for these duels, then I wouldn't have seen you at all."

"What nonsense. We work in the same building."

"And when I do see you, you bite my head off every chance you get."

Severus pursed his lips together, averting his eyes.

"So tell me. What have I done?"

"Did it happen to cross your mind that perhaps the reason for my behaviour has nothing to do with you, Lily?"

His tone was biting and she felt the sting of his words, keenly. She pressed her lips together, pushing away the hurt. Severus looked hesitant, a flash of regret in his in eyes, and he opened his mouth, as if to apologise, but then he swallowed and glanced away.

A heavy silence fell over them, broken a few moments later when Severus' spoke again; "Go home."

Lily drew in a breath; "No."

Severus lifted his head, eyes on the ceiling, as he drew in a breath.

"Sev, don't do this," her voice was softer, appealing to him.

"You're being paranoid. I'm not angry with you. I am just…" He stopped, not voicing a reason.

"You're pulling away. I know you; I know what it means when you do this."

"Just stop."

"No. You stop."

Severus pursed his lips together but he was still avoiding her eyes and the way he was pulling back, refusing even now to speak about it, when she had brought it up only causing an overwhelming mix of anger and worry that his inability to just be open with her was going to lead to this friendship bombing once again; just as it had before, when they had both refused to speak about what was going on around them. What was tearing them apart.

Except, this time, she knew what it was and it was her own fault. And, in the face of losing what they had again because of her simply being too proud to accept that maybe he just wasn't interested but was too uncomfortable to say so, she fired on.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean…If I'd thought it would change things like this, I wouldn't have done it."

Severus met her eyes then, with a frown, that by all intents and purposes looked genuinely baffled; "What are you talking about?"

"About…" she felt her face flush; "About what happened." She had pushed the memory of it away when Severus had been in her mind, her face moving closer to his, and in her panicked desperation to make it go away she had called up something else, anything else that would prevent the embarrassment of reliving it with him. And then up had popped James.

She drew in a breath, knowing her face had flushed with the embarrassment, but forced herself to just say it; if it meant she could salvage their relationship then a little humiliation was worth the cost; "For trying to…you know…" she was stuttering, hardly the courageous Gryffindor; "Kiss you." It was practically whispered, her eyes on anything but him when she said it.

A silence greeted her.

When it stretched, curiosity made her look back at him.

Severus was staring at her.

And then his lips twitched; "That's what you think is bothering me?"

Lily frowned.

"Lily, that is…that's not…it was fi –" While he had seemed amused at first, he now seemed as embarrassed as she had felt bringing it up; "That is not the problem."

If it wasn't the kiss and it wasn't the memories then she had no clue what it was; why he was suddenly pulling away. And she realised, perhaps she was being self-centred in believing it was all about her. Maybe it was simply his worry for Regulus that was driving his behaviour. Or feelings of betrayal over Eugene Hopkins. Or the ever-steady string of attacks by the Death Eaters. Or stress over the sudden increase in workload, with him now running the Foundation.

She felt instantly guilty. Almost ashamed as she considered the pressure he was under.

Here he was juggling a massive load of worries and Lily was demanding, well, quite a lot from him really. Demanding he be exactly as he had been before as if the attacks had never happened; demanding he talk about the whole thing when he really just needed space.

Not just space, time as well, time to do something to save Regulus, to find a cure, any free moments of which were rare and precious and he was currently wasting them trying to train her up to fight a war that may not even happen.

"Oh," was all she managed, her face burning now.

She reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear, feeling even more embarrassed than before; "I…I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Lily met his eyes, which still looked guarded but had softened considerably; "Sev. If I can do anything to help – with Regulus, I mean. You just have to ask."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; "Yes. Yes I know."

Lily stood, her realisation that she was only adding to his troubles by being there as uneasy a thought to her as the belief that his reason for pulling away before was due to a rejection of her affections; "Well, okay. As long as we're okay then I guess I'll go." She spoke quickly, ready to bolt.

Severus looked surprised.

Surprised she was leaving, that she had given up so easily.

But she headed to the door, offering nothing more than a; "I'll see you at the fundraiser. Night, Sev."

It was past midnight by the time she got home, stepping into the kitchen where Sirius was sitting at the table, eyes disapproving as they landed on her. But he said nothing about it, whether he suspected she had been with Severus and whether it was work related or otherwise, only expressing his displeasure with stony eyes until he had pushed it away, offering her a greeting when she said hello, before presenting the Prophet to her.

Pettigrew Spotted.

An article that told them Peter had been seen skirting the perimeter of Azkaban, which lead to a discussion about what he could be up to. How Sirius wouldn't rest until the traitor was locked up behind bars once again. Or worse. He deserved worse, Sirius claimed.

Lily silently agreed. But she didn't tell him the reason. She didn't tell him about the prophecy.

And it was only when she was in bed later that night, alone, that her mind wandered back to what had happened earlier with Severus.

How she had pushed and he had pulled away.

But she tried not to focus on that, on what she had said, how she had made things about herself when he had made it clear it had nothing to do with her. Lily had drawn into herself in the past, when she had lost people; when her mother had died she had stayed in her room for days without wanting to speak to a single soul.

In the months immediately following losing James, she had thrown herself into finding a way to bring him back. To save him. And she hadn't exactly been a warm and fuzzy person during that time either.

And Severus had lost Regulus due to the betrayal of a friend, too; the same as she, with Peter.

Lily understood.

She needed to give him space.

Although, at the same time, her mind went back to something else he had said. Or, at least, what he had seemed to be saying less than eloquently when she had brought it up.

She had thought he was pulling away because of what she'd done that day, what she had wanted to do. What she still wanted to do, if she was honest with herself.

Obviously, during the moments when he was being an ass, the desire to kiss him wasn't as prevalent in her mind as the one was to rattle him. But it still lingered, ever-present on the edge of her consciousness.

And, during the spontaneous moments of warmth that seemed to come from him every now and again, the desire had settled itself into an intense longing somewhere inside of her; a yearning to lean in and try again. To finally feel what it would be like to press her lips to his; to feel his breath against her cheeks; to feel his hands against her. On her face, on her waist, in her hair; anywhere so long as it was without the frustrating restraint with which he took her arm or her hand.

At least something positive had come out of her attempt at a confrontation with him; he had told her that it hadn't bothered him. Well, not exactly. He hadn't said he welcomed it either.

What had he said?

That is was fine. She guessed that's what he was about to say before cutting himself off.

'Fine' wasn't exactly 'great' or 'welcome' or, 'yes, I really want us to try that again sometime'.

But it wasn't 'thanks but no thanks' either.

A little flicker of hope had lit up within her as she considered his words, what they meant. That maybe there was a chance to explore that, to try something more.

Later, she told herself, after she'd given him the space he seemed to need. Maybe then, she'd she how it was between them; see how he responded to her. She'd really rather be sure this time before she made any move to bring the possibility back up again.

Save herself the embarrassment of an actual rejection from him.

* * *

"Space? Honey, if you want him, go and get him."

Lily was glad she had cast a 'muffliato' before finally admitting to Julia what had been bothering her the past few weeks. Telling her about how she had almost kissed Severus, how his behaviour had instantly changed in the aftermath, how she had thought it was due to rejection which he had now, seemingly, denied.

"If anything it's perfect," Julia went on; "I mean, he's feeling low, he's obviously too much of man to just ask for some TLC. But the signs are all there; his best mate could be dying, his other mate was a snake and he's acting all Sid to your Nancy. I'm pretty sure he's crying out for some loving." She ended with a wink.

Lily supressed a smile by lifting her wine glass to her lips.

"Ah, there is Mr Tall, Dark and Mysterious now!" Julia announced, shamelessly, as she caught sight of Severus making his way through the crowd.

The Fundraiser, which was supposed to be serving as a form of memorial in honour of those who had been lost the month before, had been a surprisingly jovial affair so far. The organisation had opened its doors to the public and families for the evening, for the first time.

As such, children's voices filled the room, along with the corresponding sounds of chatter, laughter and music.

"Off you go then, my sweet." Julia nudged Lily with her hip; "Seize the moment!"

The moment appeared to be marching up to Severus while he was currently involved in deep conversation with Lucius Malfoy.

"In seriousness, Lily," Julia went on, her playful manner dropping; "It's probably just a defence mechanism. Everyone can see how he feels about you. Heck, it's all anyone used to talk about during these things."

"Not anymore?"

Julia shrugged; "No one's mentioned it so far. But, if he's been keeping his distance like you said, then I guess no one's really noticed you guys together recently."

Lily nodded, figuring that was true.

"Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he's just a shy soul," Julia said, hand on heart with over-dramatic sympathy; "Lil', don't wait about. If he didn't want it, he would have shut you down there and then. What did he say, it was 'fine'?"

"Yes, it seemed like that's what he was going to sa-"

"So he didn't actually say that? Are you sure the word wasn't actually going to be 'fantastic'? Or 'fabulous'? Or, 'fuck me, you've finally gotten the message'?"

"Julia," Lily hissed, eyes glancing around, and landing on Sirius who was standing nearby.

"What? You cast the spell, right? No one can hear. Besides, old Black over there ought to hear about it sooner or later. You may as well get it over with. Like a plaster; rip it off and tell him all about it."

"I don't need to tell Sirius anything because there's nothing to tell."

Julia smirked, eyes going in Severus' direction, where he and Malfoy had now been joined by Narcissa and their son.

"Besides, this is hardly the place to set him off on one," Lily added, before subtly reaching for her wand and casting the counter to the charm as Sirius stepped towards them, only one crutch needed now to help him retain his balance.

Before he could speak, a voice drew the attention of all in the room to the stage, where Narcissa Malfoy stood to address the attendants. And the music and voices and laughter faded, the mood turning sombre with remembrance, as she began to speak of those who had been lost the month before.

The silence of the crowd continuing, the atmosphere heavy with grief, as they remembered colleagues lost; friends, family.

Andromeda Tonks.

Regulus Black.

Lily's eyes unconsciously wandered from the stage, seeking Severus, when Narcissa Malfoy – speaking with an unsteadiness in her voice – brought up the current absence of the Foundation's founder. Watched as Severus' eyes lowered from the woman on the stage to the ground, back up for a second, before he took a step backwards. Making his way as inconspicuously as possible through the crowd and out the side door, leaving the room.

His grief was evident in the brief moment Regulus' name had been mentioned, though he had concealed it just as quickly as it had come. Back into the same distant expression that Lily had become accustomed to in recent weeks.

She had the overwhelming urge to go to him; to find him and be there for him. Not in the way Julia had suggested. Just to make sure he knew he wasn't alone. At least make him see that there was an option, that he didn't have to do this alone if he didn't want to.

But she couldn't, not yet; Harry and the other children from the Learning Centre were expected to take to the stage at any moment.

And, it seemed, the moment was now, as Narcissa Malfoy concluded her words and introduced them; the children prancing out excitedly onto the stage seconds later.

* * *

Harry and Malachi hurried down the corridor, having finally been able to take off the silly costumes they had had to wear for the presentation.

Malachi had seemed sad lately, because of his dad, but his low moods were punctuated by moments of playfulness, happiness. Especially when his Uncle Sirius played with them. Their Uncle Sirius, Harry reminded himself.

It was easier to be kinder now, to share his uncle with him, knowing that Malachi was so upset over losing his father.

Harry had told him he'd be okay; he lost his dad years ago and now it was like he never existed.

The statement hadn't made Malachi all that happy but Harry knew it was true.

"Malachi!"

The two of them halted at the sound of another child's voice, someone Harry had never met before.

"Hi Draco!" Malachi smiled brightly at the blond-haired boy that approached.

"Where are you going?" The other boy smiled back but he walked awfully strange. Like he was keeping himself higher up than he needed to be. And an icy coldness seemed to emit from him.

"We're going to the courtyard. They've got games there. You can come with us!"

The boy, Draco, nodded; "Okay." And then he looked at Harry for the first time. He tilted his head to the side, looking at him appraisingly, before he offered him a smile; "Hi. I'm Draco."

Harry smiled back, the other boy's iciness seeming to die away with his smile; "I'm Harry."

And the three of them set off for the courtyard and, for a while, Harry figured he liked the other boy he had just met. Someone Malachi seemed to like a lot. It was a little while before he told Harry that they were cousins, which led to the question that sparked the fight.

"Oh! Is my Uncle Sirius your uncle too, then?"

It seemed as if his Uncle Sirius was everyone's uncle.

Draco turned up his nose; "That filthy blood-traitor? My family doesn't have anything to do with him."

Harry frowned. The other boy's statement seemed almost rehearsed, as if it was something he had heard an adult say rather than a conclusion he'd come to on his own, but the offence was still there all the same.

"My uncle's not a traitor!"

"What's a blood traitor?" Malachi frowned.

"Someone who gets dirty with mudbloods and muggles."

Harry felt his blood boil, feeling the sting of the insult at his mother once again.

"But…Uncle Sirius is nice," Malachi said, seeming as confused as Harry had been when he'd first encountered the prejudice.

"You'd better stay away from him, Mac," Draco said, warningly, using a nickname Harry had never heard before; "It's because of people like him that your dad's gonna die."

Malachi looked stricken.

"That's not true!" Harry shouted, defensively; "Muggleborns aren't the bad ones! It's the purebloods that cause all the problems!"

Draco looked down his nose at him; "Said like a real blood traitor."

"Oh shut up, Malfoy!" An older boy from the Learning Centre suddenly spoke up from the side; "Potter's right. Your kind just spread lies and hate, that's what my dad says."

"Well, my father says –"

"No one cares what your father says, Malfoy. You inbred."

Harry didn't know what the word meant but the look of pure offense on Draco – Malfoy's – face made him burst out laughing.

But his laughter was knocked from him suddenly when a first collided with his jaw. The sharp ache shot up the side of his face and it took him a second to realise what had happened; that Malfoy had just hit him.

No one had ever hit him before.

Harry's eyes darkened as they landed on the other boy, who had turned and swept from the courtyard following his strike and was now pulling open the door to head back into the Foundation.

An indignant rage burned up within Harry and exploded and he launched himself at the other boy from behind, sending the two of them tumbling back into the corridor of the building.

Malfoy recovered fast, turning and hitting back and they scuffled and yelped and tore at one another like animals, barely aware of the sting of the injuries inflicted by the other, Harry feeling only that deep burning instinct to attack.

To attack to defend himself, after being hit, and to defend his mother, the muggleborn, his uncle, the blood traitor, and Malachi, who had been reminded of his father's ever-diminishing chance of survival.

"What is the meaning of this!"

Harry and Malfoy were suddenly seized by the collars and torn apart.

And then Harry found himself staring into the dark eyes of Professor Severus Snape, which bore into them both in a way that made him almost shrink in terror.

Severus' eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, expectantly; "Well?"

"He attacked me!" Malfoy declared.

"He hit me first!"

"I did not! Severus, he started it!"

Severus?

Great. Malfoy was on first name basis with him. This didn't bode well.

But then, Professor Snape was friends with his mother, wasn't he?

"He insulted my mum!"

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"He called her a mudblood." Harry elaborated; it wasn't a lie, after all. Malfoy had said his Uncle Sirius 'got dirty with mudbloods', which he knew meant his mum.

"So what?" Malfoy sneered at Harry.

Professor Snape's lips pursed together and his eyes bore into them both; "I am sure you are both aware that we are currently attending a gathering of remembrance." Harry thought the Professor's eyes narrowed as he turned them on Malfoy; "As such, I suggest you learn to conduct yourselves with respect."

The grip the man hand on them both was abruptly released and Harry stumbled a little.

"Return to your parents. At once."

Harry fled, not needing to be told twice.

* * *

This was not Hogwarts.

And yet, Severus still found himself playing the stern Professor to the idiocy of children. Children of his friends, no less.

Two friends who were on opposing sides of a war he would soon have to play spy in and, of course, it just so happened that it was the politics of which that the boys had been scuffling about.

Severus did not need this.

The evening, the months, had been trying enough and Narcissa's words regarding the loss of Andromeda, followed by her mentioning of Regulus' ever-worsening condition only pushed him into further thoughts about the bleakness of their situation. Of the war. Of the loses they would soon face.

This was only a preview.

Nonetheless, Regulus would not be one of them.

Struck by a swift determination to begin progressing with a cure, a potential counter to the curse that had been cast, Severus had left the function and headed to the labs.

Why waste time mourning those who had been lost when there was a chance that one could be saved?

It was necessary for the brewing process of the potion he was working on to begin in conjunction with a celestial event. Severus had planned to wait until a few days later, when a meteor shower was due to take place, but he supposed a full moon would do. If he should fail in the brewing process, at least then it would only be a short period to wait until he could attempt to do so again.

The door to the lab creaked open and Severus didn't even have to look up from the work bench to know who it was; simply carried on scribbling down notes against the steps he had begun to formulate some days before.

Her shoes clinked with each step on the stone ground of the room, before she stopped just a few feet away, when he finally addressed her; "I would have thought you'd be enjoying the party."

Lily was another matter which weighed heavily on his mind these days, and his concerns, his confusion, over everything that was going on between the two of them had only heightened following their discussion the previous night.

Yes, Lily had almost kissed him and, no, that had not been a problem.

In fact, he wished it had progressed. That she had managed to do so, before everything had suddenly been blown to shit.

But it was better that they hadn't, he told himself.

Lily was more than just a weakness to him. He was a danger to her.

It would not do for him to allow things to progress any further. For such a vast number of reasons that it almost made his head swim just thinking about them; there was The Dark Lord. The Death Eaters. Eugene Hopkins. James Fucking Potter.

No.

He had to keep his distance.

It was difficult though, when she seemed determined to remain close, to maintain what they had built. And it was not as if he could just confess to his thoughts; what if he was being presumptuous? Lily may have tried to kiss him but there was still no reason given as to why and, considering that she had never expressed any sort of wish to engage in such behaviour before, ever, it more than likely had just been an impulsive action brought on by the nature of the moment preceding it.

For all Severus knew, she could have been thinking about Potter the entire time.

She had thought of him in the immediate aftermath of reliving the memory while Severus had been in her mind and, judging by her apology the previous evening, it seemed she regretted it anyway.

Which was for the best.

"I had the pleasure of spending some moments with your son, not half an hour ago."

"Yes, he told me."

Lily carried on, making an apology for her son's behaviour, and he only grunted in acknowledgement.

This was how it had been for some weeks. She would talk and he would try to ignore her, keep up an air of disinterest in whatever she was saying. If he was dismissive, rude she may understand and simply leave him alone. That is what he had hoped but it had failed in achieving his goal, so the second week he had tried another tactic.

Elusive hostility.

That had only resulted in an affronted attitude in response, particularly when he had ventured as far as to subtly insult her husband – a topic that had been spectacularly off-limits ever since their re-acquaintance – and, subsequently, insulted her.

That only resulted in several less-than-pleasant spells being cast his way during their duelling practices. Though, that was good too; at least his behaviour had resulted in something that could be considered a success, now that she had finally dropped her hesitancy and began duelling in the manner in which he knew she could. But wouldn't.

But, as far as effectiveness went, that was it.

Lily seemed as steadfastly committed to their friendship as she did before the attack – pity that had not been the case years ago – and, he guessed as he looked at the warmth in her eyes now, their conversation the previous night had done little to discourage her.

Not that he had said much to discourage her.

When she had mentioned almost kissing him, apologising for it, he should have seized the opportunity to shut down any chance of it happening again. Not that it would, mind you. He guessed the moment had passed.

Which was good. He had repeated that to himself over and over and he was at the point that even he was confusing himself with his own thoughts, his own inability to rationalise what he wanted.

What he wanted against what needed to be done.

And her behaviour too. Why had she –

"Earth to Sev?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, meeting her eyes.

She lifted her eyebrows, curiously, and then gave him an earnest smile and he felt something within him melt.

Severus told himself to get it together when she began to speak; talking about the memorial, about Narcissa's words. But even as he did his eyes lingered; his gaze focusing too long on the green of her eyes, slowly drifting down to her lips as they moved with her words.

They looked silky soft, smooth, and he once again wished they had had just a moment longer that day, just a second to feel, to know, what it would be like to feel them against his.

They stopped moving.

A silence.

Severus lifted his gaze back to her eyes, noticed her watching him, and he realised he'd been staring and felt himself heat up. Lily's lips twitched then, belying amusement, and he wondered if it was at him staring in the first place that caused amusement or if it was his embarrassment at being caught doing so.

"Listen," her voice was quiet but sincere; "I meant what I said last night. I'm here if you need me. Okay?"

"I…"

He hesitated, uncertain what to say. Because, as she'd said, he had been an ass for weeks and here was she offering up herself to him for, well, comfort he presumed and in the face of her tenderness he could barely remember why it was that that was a bad thing; why it was that he should be pushing her away when his heart was telling him to pull.

Severus drew in a breath and felt his resolve weakening; "I have been…difficult."

"You can say that again." She grinned and a weight seemed to lift from her at his words and the brightness that accompanied her expression then made a familiar longing stir within him.

Heart overruling head, he felt himself relax in turn, turning to face her more fully, leaning back against the bench. He didn't speak, only looked at her, and she tilted her head as she returned his gaze.

"I understand. I…I know when I lost…people. That I pushed others away too."

Severus forced himself not to shut back down at the nod to Potter.

She spoke quietly, her voice filled with a vulnerability that made him want to reach out; "As much as I pushed them away; I needed the people around me."

"I know you must be so worried. For Regulus," she went on; "I…well, I just want you to know that you don't have to do this alone. I mean, sometimes that's better. It helps not having to deal with other people." She paused and then shrugged; "But, you know, sometimes it doesn't. It's okay to need someone."

Severus only held her gaze, not speaking, though he thought sceptically; and you want to be that someone, Lily?

He doubted that she did. And he doubted, he knew, she had no idea that he already did need her. Like fish needed water; like fire needed oxygen.

The intensity of his feelings for her seemed to rise up within him, overwhelming him, and he fought to keep a grasp of his will; to keep control. To remember why. Why he couldn't lean on her. Why he couldn't lose himself with her.

Why?

Lily's eyes were still on his; too long. His will was weakening with each moment that passed.

His eyes drifted; taking in the way her lips parted when they glanced over them, the way her throat moved when she swallowed, how her chest lifted when she drew in a breath. Suddenly so very aware of everything, the way the smell of talc and spice filled him, the way her hair slipped forward, wisps over a bare shoulder when her chin dipped forward, the way her body curved beneath her clothes when she stepped ever so slightly closer.

Severus drew his eyes back up slowly, hesitantly, and he knew that Lily would be able to see it. How much he wanted her.

He was uncertain what to expect; if she would draw back or if she would politely deny him. Or, if only, perhaps.

Perhaps.

Lily stepped closer, the fabric of her dress brushing the edges of his robes. And then she leaned in, so close, so close. The proximity was too much and a little snap of resolve fluttered up; just enough for him to raise a hand and press it up against her. His palm was flush against the skin of her chest, his fingers on her shoulder, the pad of his thumb against the little hollow of her throat.

Merlin. Her skin was just as he imagined. Soft, smooth and warm beneath his touch.

His action made her pause but she didn't withdraw; her face inches from his and her breath was on his lips and he breathed out an explanation.

"We shouldn't." But, if his hand did so little to stop her, his meagre protest would do even less so, the words emerging as a husky rasp that only belied his true desires, surprising him, and making her eyes darken in response.

And then, she closed the gap and her lips pressed to his.

It was soft and slow and sweet. The sudden burst of emotions within him, the inconceivability of what was actually happening, rendering him immobile. Still.

And then it was over.

Lily slowly drew back.

Severus could only stare at her, as he tried to comprehend it; that, yes, Lily had just kissed him.

And he had stood there still as stone.

He had wanted this for as long as he could remember and he had just fucked up. Big time. He could tell by the new uncertainty in her eyes when she looked at him, questioning his lack of response.

Lily stared to draw back further, seeming to take his lack of physical response and his ensuing silence as a rejection.

The tiny slither of will that he had left weakened to nothingness; his previous resolve to keep his distance from her falling away and he pushed himself forward from the bench he had been leaning on, the hand that was still on her skin slipping up and behind, taking her by the nape of the neck as he pressed his lips back to hers.

A muffled moan of surprise escaped her, into his mouth. And then she relaxed, sinking into him, and inhaled deeply as he savoured the taste of her lips beneath his, his other hand reaching up to touch.

His fingers were gentle against her cheek, before lightly trailing the side of her neck.

He felt her lips part beneath his and he breathed her name before he deepened the kiss; his hand at the back of her neck sliding up and curling into her hair, while the palm of the other skimmed the skin of her shoulder.

He heard her moan approvingly and, hell, he liked it. Wanted to hear it again.

His hands tightened, pulling her closer to him, and his mouth moved with slow, steady urgency against hers and he felt her hands slide up his chest, making his heart flutter and his longing intensify, before they gripped his shoulders and she pressed up flush against him, her own urgency matching his.

And it was everything he had ever imagined and more; the feel of Lily in his arms, her lips against his, kissing him, wanting him.

And his self-control spiralled as he allowed himself to lose himself in her.

And then, because the damn universe hated him:

The Dark Mark began to burn.


	26. October 1987: The Dark Lord Returns

Severus released her abruptly and Lily stumbled, having been relying on her grip of him, his of her, to keep up upright.

She was breathless, panting, and bereft at the sudden loss of contact, barely able to contemplate what had just happened. And why he had stopped.

Stopping was most definitely not what she had had in mind.

The look in Severus' eyes broke her from her passion-induced haze; her bliss evaporating instantly when she identified it.

Fear.

Lily frowned, trying to steady her breathing; "Severus?"

His eyes pressed shut and he drew in a breath; "I…I'm sorry. I…" His eyes darted open, that same panicked look in his eyes still there; "I have to go." He almost knocked her over as he brushed by, heading with sudden swiftness towards the door.

"Wha – what? Severus, wait!"

But he was gone. Leaving her breathless, shaken and confused in his wake.

* * *

A wine glass shattered.

"Lucius?"

Sirius peered over his shoulder, curiously, at the sound of Narcissa Malfoy's concerned voice and saw the two of them; his cousin and her odious husband just a few feet away. Narcissa placed her hand on Malfoy's arm, her brow furrowing with apprehension, and Sirius noticed the splash of red wine on the floor at the other man's feet.

Lucius put a hand on her arm, saying nothing and swept on by, drawing her with him, only getting a few feet away before someone stepped in front of the two.

"Lucius! I had been hoping to run into you tonight. Millicent –"

"Pardon me, Cornelius, we were just leaving. My wife has been afflicted with a sudden headache."

Sirius' interest piqued at the falsehood.

"Oh. Well, we shall discuss this later then."

With a brief nod, Lucius swept on by, carrying on his previous path, a hand curled tight around Narcissa's wrist as he addressed her with a tone of urgency; "Where is Draco?"

Their voices faded as they drifted further away. Sirius quickly adjusted the crutch he leant on and attempted to subtly follow, straining to hear as they fell back within earshot.

"I want you to return to the Manor at once."

"Lucius, what's going on? Has something happened?"

"There is no time to explain. Draco!"

Their son was suddenly at their side. Sirius observed the three of them through the doorframe as they stepped into the corridor. Lucius seized his son with a grip of his upper arm and he swept down the corridor, drawing the other two with him in large, urgent strides that Sirius could not keep up with. Only just managing to catch what Lucius was instructing, as he focused on following in a way that was as inconspicuous as possible. Not that any of them seemed inclined to notice him.

"You must leave immediately. Do not answer the floo or the door to anyone. Await my return."

"Your return? Return from where?" Narcissa hissed, seeming to note a need for secrecy.

Lucius blasted open the door that led out onto the grounds and they scurried off, Sirius no longer able to hear what was spoken. Could only see them speaking urgently between themselves through the floor to ceiling windows.

Sirius hesitated for only a moment before he made his way towards the door; fully resolved in his intentions to follow Lucius Malfoy and find out what the man was up to. The man was a Death Eater. Perhaps following him would lead to Peter.

Sirius wouldn't put it past either of them to be planning an attack, one that could happen this very night. Perhaps even here.

The thought made Sirius pause, as he contemplated that this could be the reason Lucius had swept his family from the building. That the Foundation could be under the threat of imminent attack by Death Eaters. After all, this was a memorial fundraiser and a vast majority of the people there were the victims who had suffered and defied Voldemort. The Malfoy's had made their appearances; had shown face, so as to remove suspicion from themselves.

It was the perfect opportunity to strike.

Sirius turned quickly. He had to find Harry and Lily immediately.

But he only got a short distance, turning a corner as swiftly as he could on his weakened legs and an unsteady crutch, before he was almost knocked to the ground by Severus Snape.

* * *

Severus strode down the corridor at speed, attempting to gather his wits.

The taste of Lily was still sweet on his lips. The burn of his master still hot on his arm.

He was fully aware of how Lily would take his actions; that she would assume the way he had pulled away and immediately fled was indicative of regret. That was hardly the case. The entire circumstance was beyond anything he could have ever dreamed. But the dream had quickly become a nightmare.

Logic told him it was better that things had happened as they did. He would never be strong enough to tell her with words that the kiss meant nothing. Let her assume it from his actions.

The Dark Lord had returned.

And Lily was so fresh in his mind. He forced her from it. He could not draw attention to her. The Dark Lord could not see her when he invaded his mind. He must make him believe she no longer meant anything to him; that his weakness from before had been overcome.

Do not draw attention to Lily Potter.

Severus was already taking too long to respond to the summons. The others would probably already be there by now. Making their excuses. Every second Severus took to arrive would only arouse suspicion.

Severus rounded the corner, making his way into the main entrance hallway, only to come to a sudden halt when his eyes settled on the little boy sitting huddled on the floor. Back against the reception desk. Chin on his knees.

"Malachi!"

The boy jumped at Severus' sharp tone and quickly got to his feet; "I –"

Severus did not allow him to finish, seizing him by the arm and hurrying towards the corridor that led to the function room; "You will spend the night with your Aunt."

"Oh." Malachi struggled to keep up with Severus' long strides; "But…can't I come home with you?"

Severus ignored the question. The urge to snap. Rounded another corner and collided sharply with none other than Sirius Black.

Severus pursed his lips together; the night having quickly plunging from bliss, to terror, to hell. And there was still more to come. And yet fate still thought it would throw in a face-off with Sirius Black just to round it all off nicely.

"Going somewhere, Snape?" Black's voice was dripping with venom.

"None of your concern." Severus made to push by him.

"Your crony went that way."

Severus paused, eyes glancing in the direction Black indicated, and, sure enough, there were the Malfoys out on the grounds. Narcissa disapparated first with Draco; Lucius went a mere second later.

"Does this mean I can come home with you?" Malachi spoke up, sounding hopeful, and Severus did not have time to contemplate why the boy seemed so unhappy at the thought of staying at the Manor with his beloved Aunt.

He needed to find somewhere to place the boy immediately; wondered if there was time to drop him off at Hogwarts with Dumbledore.

At this rate the Dark Lord was going to execute him on arrival.

"You're staying with the Malfoy's?" Black's indignant voice broke his string of consciousness, as Severus' most despised – living – adversary began to rant about the indecency of it all. That his nephew should have to spend even one minute under the care of the Malfoy's. Death Eaters! Racists!

Never mind that they were family also.

Severus' patience snapped, suddenly. He had no time for Sirius Black's dramatics. He needed to go now.

Severus grasped Malachi under the arms and thrust him into Black's unsuspecting arms, making him drop his crutch to the ground with a clatter and wobble on his feet; "If you think you can do better, Black, be my guest!"

And then he strode from the building, bursting through the nearest available door and out into the night, travelling further than the Malfoy's had before disapparating. With a wave of his wand, he cast his Patronus; it emerged more powerful than ever before, the recent memory of Lily in his arms fuelling the charm with ease, and he sent it off to Dumbledore. Two simple words all that were needed to convey the message; "He's back".

And then he cleared his mind of everything. Banished all thoughts of Dumbledore. Of Lily. Especially Lily.

Drew up memories of the Dark Lord. The first war. Regulus. Lucius. Anything and everything that would strengthen his case when he faced his old master. Quickly ran over the story he and Regulus had discussed some months before; careful to lock away the memory of the conversation they had rehearsed should either of their defections ever be discovered. The other's cover had to remain intact; protect the spies.

And then he disapparated and reappeared at the foot of long stone steps that led up to the large wooden door of a mausoleum; Peter Pettigrew standing guard off to the right.

Severus barely reacted when he saw him and was grateful that the first test of his resolve was a success. For he had vowed, if he had ever come across Pettigrew at any point since his escape from Azkaban, he would easily be able to come up with an excuse to dispose of the man who had so easily given Lily up some years before.

Now, though, that could not be so. He had missed his chance.

Let Sirius Black this small victory; he can be the one to do it.

He made his way up the steps, decidedly, and stopped abruptly in front of the door.

If the Dark Lord had placed a guard, then proceedings must have already begun.

"Snape." Pettigrew's voice was filled with distain, spoken in the same manner in which Severus remembered from years ago, back in Hogwarts. Fitting. Pettigrew may have betrayed Potter and Black but his spineless mimicry of their behaviour remained; a follower, a brainless, cowardly rat.

"Pettigrew," Severus ground out when Pettigrew made no move to go inside; "Perhaps you would like to announce me at some point tonight? The Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting."

"You're the one that's late."

Pettigrew cracked the door open and slipped inside, the Dark Lord's voice filtering out through the gap and the familiar timbre sent a chill up Severus' spine.

"…they, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard against mortal death…"

A sudden silence met Severus' ears and then –

"Severus? Well. Please, Wormtail, do send him down. Send him down."

Severus drew in a steadying breath as he heard Pettigrew's footsteps on the stairs at the other side, climbing up to grant him access, and he lifted his wand, drawing it carefully before his face and donning the mask that was so familiar.

So very familiar.

And he merely brushed by Pettigrew when he reappeared, not waiting to be told to go, and headed through the door. Holding his head high as he made his way down the stone steps on the other side, aware of every eye in the dark, musky crypt on him. And then, when his feet left the final step and touched down on the ground, the uneven surface of the room, he quickly sank to his knees and hung his head; crawled the few feet to the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, grasping and pressing a reverent kiss to the fabric.

His lips had had more action this night than they had in the past three years combined. Perhaps the thought would be amusing if he was not almost shaking from the very conceivable threat of imminent death.

"My Lord."

"Crucio!"

Suddenly, all Severus knew was pain. Raw, excruciating agony as his nerve endings coiled and screamed and he didn't even feel the impact as he hit the ground; writhing under the effects of the Unforgivable.

And then it stopped.

Severus' body still twitched and trembled in the aftermath but his concern was focusing entirely on his mind. Keep his mind under control; that was the only way he would survive.

He felt his mask be torn from his face.

"Rise."

Severus pushed himself back up onto his knees. Eyes focused on the hem of the Dark Lord's robes.

"What kept you, Severus, do tell."

"My Lord. I apologise. I have no excuse."

"Oh, but Severus, there must have been something. Tardiness was never a flaw of yours."

Severus was silent, knowing better than to offer a verbal defence; that would only result in further punishment. He knew the game. He had fallen short. Was the last to respond to the call. And, for that, he would face their master's displeasure.

"Look at me."

Severus raised his eyes from fabric to red, piercing eyes and it was only through sheer force of will that he did not recoil at the sight that greeted him.

His vision blurred; images fluttered on by. Safe images he allowed to be accessed. Recent memories. Snatching Malachi up from the ground. Pacing the halls of the Foundation in search of Narcissa Malfoy.

A low grumbling chuckle escaped the Dark Lord as Severus' vision returned to normal; "Yours, Severus?"

"My Lord?"

"The boy."

"No." Severus lowered his head; "He is the son of Regulus Black."

"Ah. Dear, sweet Regulus. How is he, Severus? I have learned from Wormtail of his condition."

"The curse is powerful, my Lord. More so than any I have ever seen."

"The particulars?"

"Ancient; blood magic no longer practiced."

The Dark Lord looked intrigued, considering the information for a moment before he finally spoke again.

"Unfortunate. Most unfortunate. A waste of such a promising talent."

Severus said nothing. Now was not the time to plead for Regulus' life.

"On your feet."

Severus quickly straightened, doing his best not to let his surprise show at being so quickly discharged when the Dark Lord gave him a sharp nod in the direction of the others; a signal to join the ranks. He made his way over, sharing a brief glance with Lucius as he did.

The Dark Lord seemed to follow on his heels but he swept by him, stopping just short in front of Lucius; "And you, my slippery friend; have you no excuses for me?"

"My Lord," Lucius' voice was hoarse; "My loyalty did not falter."

"Yet you did not seek me out."

"My master, had there been any sign; a whisper –"

"There were more than whispers, Lucius; more than signs. You chose not to join the others in their demonstrations of enduring devotion." His eyes turned suddenly back to Severus; "Nor did you, Severus."

"We are unworthy, my Lord." Severus' voice was quiet.

"You are."

Severus unconsciously braced himself for a further Cruciatus that didn't come.

"I expect better. In the future."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius breathed; "You are merciful; most merciful."

Severus only bowed his head, lower; he had never been one to demonstrate his loyalty through grovelling. He would lower himself, know his place, await and accept his punishments without protest, without sound. Just the clutching of dark robes, lips pressing to them in earnestness.

The only time Severus had ever pleaded had been for Lily's life. For that, for his break from the quiet, dutiful servant, the Dark Lord had taken great interest in the request.

"Such lack of faith, Lucius." It was spoken quietly; "A transgression which may be charged against all within this room." The Dark Lord turned, sweeping his gaze across them all; "My most trusted." He stepped in front of Macnair, face leaning in close; "Speak."

"My Lord," Macnair breathed, every inch of him radiating fear; "We did not…how could we…there was no evidence that you had surv-"

"Crucio!"

Macnair fell to the ground, screaming in agony, but the others in the room were not granted with the freedom to watch; the sounds of his torture becoming mere background noise as the Dark Lord swept around and addressed them all; "And were these the thoughts of you all? That I had been defeated?"

No one dared to breathe.

"After I had assured you all of the measures I had taken to ensure my immortality. Oh, I have heard the rumours. The belief that I was vanquished by the boy; an infant. Could it be that my most trusted disciples believed this to be the case?"

Silence.

"No?"

When the silence stretched, the Dark Lord closed in on another; "Avery?"

The Death Eater almost trembled as he came under their master's scrutiny; "My Lord. We have all wanted nothing more than this…this miracle to come to pass. When the Mark began to reappear we – a number of us – we began the preparations for your return. We…we resumed our attacks on the muggles and the mudbloods that have tarnished our world –"

The Dark Lord allowed him to speak longer than any of the others. Waited in patient silence until his follower ceased to speak and the long silence that drew out in the aftermath left Severus tense with anticipation; half expecting a further Cruciatus to be thrown cast.

"That you did." The Dark Lord spoke with an eerie softness in his tone before his eyes landed on another to the side, a second, a third; "Mossburn. Macnair. All of you have taken it upon yourselves to wreak havoc once again. But tell me, why did you doubt Wormtail's information of my return for so long? I know he came to you sooner."

The Dark Lord spun, eyes flashing, as they rested back on Severus; "And you, Severus? You were always so gifted, so eager to explore the possibilities of the unknown; it would have been quite a challenge for you, to uncover the mystery of an unknown branch of magic. Such possibilities always intrigued you. I do hope this has not…changed."

"My Lord," Severus' voice came out almost as a choke and he willed himself to calmness; "I believed it was in the best interests of us all that my cover remained intact; should I stray from Hogwarts, come under the suspicions of the Headmaster so close to the circumstances of your return, it would have been detrimental to my usefulness as a spy."

The Dark Lord eyed him; "Then you believe Dumbledore to consider you a faithful servant."

"I do, my Master. I have remained close to him in the years since your disappearance. I felt it necessary to continue to do so throughout the process of your return. For which I have awaited."

"We all have a role. Is that right, Severus?"

Severus dipped his head in acquiescence.

"What of this Foundation that you have so thrown yourself into? A creation of Regulus Black himself. One that seeks to undo all that I had constructed."

"My Lord, that was not the intention. Regulus Black saw an opportunity. A possibility to profit in the aftermath of the war. He was not gifted with a sense of direction following Hogwarts. His belief in your cause, in the very essence of what we have fought for, has always driven him. He was…lost following your disappearance. And yet, he saw the suffering in the aftermath, others also lost, and with that he saw the opportunity to build something for himself. To profit from the destruction."

"How very…Slytherin."

"Yes. Regulus Black has always been opportunistic."

"And yet he aligns himself with mudbloods."

"No, my Lord. Merely uses their misfortunes for his own elevation. He has become a highly influential figure."

"Which can only be of benefit to us, Severus?"

"Yes." Severus agreed, hesitating only a second, before dipping his head and adding; "Should he survive, of course."

"And you, Severus? What has made you align yourself with this organisation?"

"My Lord. As you said, I have always been keen to explore the mysteries of the Dark Arts. And yet Dumbledore consigns me to the role of Potions Master. I teach foolish children how to brew the simplest of concoctions; it is…unsatisfying. Regulus Black offered me the chance to continue exploring my own interests, while remaining deeply aware of the necessity that I remain situated at Hogwarts. His knowledge of my loyalty and need to maintain my usefulness to you meant that he was extremely accommodating to my rather demanding schedule, which I could not expect within another organisation without arousing suspicion."

The Dark Lord's eyes remained on his; after a second they narrowed and bore into him and the memories fluttered on by in a haze. Memories Severus pushed to the surface. He and Regulus in the Foundation. And then Dumbledore. Severus sitting across from the old man in his office. Severus pouring over a brew as he created the dragon pox vaccination. Severus standing before a group of first years, speaking of the Draft of the Living Death. Severus and Regulus discussing Foundation scheduling. Severus lifting Regulus from the rubble of his office. Severus unwrapping the package that Lucius had sent to him, revealing the title of the book; The Mysteries of Blood and Souls.

Severus' vision cleared to find the Dark Lord looking at him contemplatively.

And then he gave him a sinister smile; "Very good, Severus. Stay behind." And then he turned his attention to another; "I am certain that all within this room have had some associations with the Foundation which Severus and I speak of." His eyes went to Lucius; "Of course I would expect no less from some." But the Dark Lord spared Lucius further inspection, turning his eyes to the Death Eater to his side instead; "But not everyone's impotence can be explained away by Severus' reasoning; nor Regulus and Lucius' ambitions for self-elevation. What excuses do you offer, Goyle?"

The remainder of the meeting involved the same such interrogations that Severus had faced; some, most, fell short. Several Cruciatus curses fired forth; screams of agony filling the room. One by one, they each offered their excuses, their apologies and accepted their punishment until, finally, the Dark Lord seemed satisfied with his examinations and released them.

"We shall reconvene soon. There is much to deliberate. I trust you all to be prompt when I call upon you."

The Dark Lord offered no explanations of his own; no tale of his own disappearance nor how he had come to return. Except, Severus remembered, the brief comments he had seemed to be making when he had interrupted with his arrival. Lucius had dared to question him, asking him how this 'miracle' had come to be; only to be struck down for his insolence in both questioning the possibility and doubting their Master's abilities at doing so.

One by one, the Death Eaters departed, leaving Severus alone with his Master.

The nervousness that had gradually come under control as time had gone on, following the Dark Lord's acceptance of his own excuses – and those he made on behalf of Regulus – began to make itself known once more. Fear gripping him tight.

"You say you believe Dumbledore to be fooled."

"I do, my Lord. Dumbledore was willing to offer a defence, should I have gone to trial."

"Which you did not."

Severus was silent.

"I have several loyal followers within the confines of Azkaban; those who would have rather spent the remainder of their days within it rather than renounce me."

"Yes, my Lord. But I believed my time would be better spent carrying on with the role which I had been assigned. My faith in your return never faltered. As such, I knew it was necessary I carry on as instructed. Should I have renounced the Order and joined the others in Azkaban I would have been unable to offer the services I can now provide."

"Yes. What information can you provide me with?"

"Dumbledore was also confident that you would, once again, rise."

"Hm. Not unexpected. Anything further?"

"He will call upon the Order of the Phoenix once word of your reappearance reaches him. Which I shall infiltrate and relay any useful information to yourself."

"Of course. More?"

"He has been busying himself with investigations over how your immortality came to be."

Silence.

"And has he made any progress, Severus?"

"No."

He tightened his occlumency shields.

"You must ensure that your position with him is secure enough that he will confide in you this confidence when he does. If he approaches you, offer him any assistance he requests, and report back to me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"In the meantime, inform him of my calling upon you tonight. There is no point in concealing it, Dumbledore is relentless. He must believe you to be as useful to him as you are to me. I shall ensure you are able to provide him with enough information to elevate your position within his esteem."

Severus dipped his head in compliance.

"Now. Tell me of Regulus Black. A blood curse, you said?"

"Y-yes." The sudden change of topic made him stumble.

"And what of his loyalties, Severus? You are close to him, are you not? You, more than anyone, would be aware if his faith were to waver. Do you have any doubts as to his devotion to me, to our cause?"

"None at all."

"And would you be willing to stake your life on that, Severus?"

"I would."

He answered without hesitation.

The Dark Lord lifted his chin, eyes still focused entirely on Severus'. Watching, waiting; looking for any glimpse of contradiction to the words spoken. None came. The Dark Lord turned from him, his expression turning contemplative once again.

"Then we shall see to it that Regulus is returned to us. Such a high profile figure can only be of benefit to us. And his association with the mudbloods, however mercenary it may be, could work to our advantage. You have been working on a counter to the curse, I presume? Have you made any progress?"

"Some. But…not with the swiftness that I had hoped. Time is a luxury which Regulus does not have."

"You have become incredibly…eloquent in your speech patterns, Severus. Very composed. Hardly the boy I remember."

Severus dipped his head; "A consequence of a measure of control I have had to develop being under Dumbledore's scrutiny, my Lord. As well as the patience needed when dealing with the less than impressive antics of school children."

"Hm. Yes. Very composed." He eyed him; "No weakness to share, Severus?"

Severus felt his blood run cold.

"I seem to remember a certain young redhead; a Mrs James Potter who had taken your fancy some years ago."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened with a knowing glint, as he paced, turning his back on Severus as he let the words hang in the air. The acknowledgement of the plea Severus had made; spare the mother. Spare Lily Evans.

Severus was a fool for even hoping that the Dark Lord would forget it.

"She…my weakness has been overcome, my Lord."

"Then you claim you have not pursued her." The Dark Lord turned to face him, practically clicking his heels together; "Yet I have heard differently."

Severus shook his head; "My Lord. She is…irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" His master repeated, before he smirked; "Then you wish for your request that I spare her life to be lifted?"

Severus could only stare back at him. Unable to say it. Not if there was a chance that the Dark Lord would still adhere to the word he had given him years before.

A low grumble, a laugh, sounded deep within his master's chest.

And then the Dark Lord nodded, slowly; "Desire is a man's weakness, Severus. Even a follower as gifted as yourself is not immune. That is…comforting."

Severus forced himself to keep control, uncertain if the Dark Lord was merely amused or if there was a lingering threat in his words.

"You have proven yourself useful to me, Severus. As able as ever. Your actions these past few years have undoubtedly served me better than those of your fellow Death Eaters. A small concession, I suppose, so long as she does not become a nuisance."

"Tha-thank you, my Lord." It came out as a whisper, barely able to believe that the earlier promise would still be honoured.

"She is unworthy of notice, Severus. You would do better to focus your attentions elsewhere." That piece of advice ended the conversation of Lily; "Now, tell me of your attempts to revive our friend. Regulus' time is short?"

"It is."

"Then, I suppose, we must act with due haste. Have you begun the preparations?"

"I…have fallen short in my own investigations, my Lord. But I believe that…with your abilities; simply your intervention will be enough to remove the curse which has been unleashed. If I were to bring him to you –"

"Ah. Your confidence in my abilities is as strong as ever; you flatter me. I cannot help him alone, Severus. Blood Magic is far beyond my own capabilities. Ancient; powerful. I have always longed to learn more."

Severus felt his stomach tighten; the Dark Lord was Regulus' last chance.

"However, I do believe that, together, you and I shall be able to return the boy to us." The Dark Lord paused, then spoke with certainty; "Our abilities, combined, shall be enough, I am sure. You remain as knowledgeable as ever when it comes to the art of Potions Master, I presume? I have some information regarding blood curses which I shall share; once you have constructed the necessary draft, I shall be able to lift it."

"I am at your disposal, my Master."

"You are, Severus. That you are."

* * *

Dumbledore was silent, looking contemplative, but Severus could see the old man was just as confused as he was. Not that Severus was complaining.

In his first meeting with the Dark Lord since 1981, he had managed to successfully offer up a convincing enough excuse to spare not only himself from the Dark Lord's wrath, but also secure the Dark Wizard's help – practically unsolicited – with reviving Regulus. And, even more shockingly, the Dark Lord had also reasserted his assurance that his would keep to his word regarding Lily; she would be spared.

Though, the Dark Lord had expressed no wish in hunting her son at all. Had not even mentioned Neville Longbottom, the one Dumbledore claimed to be the 'chosen'. That was…odd.

"His concern was only with Regulus?"

"It seems so."

"And he expressed no wish to hunt the boy?"

"No. The matter of the prophecy was not addressed. The Dark Lord did not even mention the circumstances of his demise; only that we were fools to believe that to be the end of him."

"Hm."

Dumbledore regarded him curiously; "You seem remarkably calm."

"Why wouldn't I be? I survived, which is more than I had expected."

"You more than survived, Severus. Your old Master has granted you every request you should ever wish to make of him. Before you even had the chance to do so. That is curious."

"Curious?" Severus felt a jab of irritation, not certain if he was imagining the implication of distrust from the man who sat across from him.

"Why, yes. Surely you did not expect such generosity from him? Especially with regards to Lily."

Severus averted his eyes, unconsciously flexing his occlumency shields; "It is not so surprising. He merely reasserted an earlier acquiescence."

Dumbledore's eyes bore into him when he looked back at him. The distrust was practically radiating off of him; "One might wonder why you needed my assistance at all."

Severus felt his control snap; "Still don't trust me, Headmaster?"

"Severus –"

"Then look for yourself." Severus dropped his occlumency shields, leaning forward to stare right back at him.

For a second he thought that Dumbledore would refuse. Would back down and assure him that, no, that was not necessary. Of course, after seven years of remaining by his side, serving him, working alongside him, Dumbledore just knew that Severus' word was true. He did not need magic to tell him that.

But, no. Mere seconds and then the old man was in his mind; the invitation, the opportunity to see, without restriction, too great to pass up.

The events of the meeting passed by Severus' mind, Dumbledore delving deep enough to hear long strings of sentences; to see it all. The excuses. The torture. The talk of Regulus. The talk of Lily.

Then, the old man pushed further and it was so unexpected that Severus could barely react.

And, suddenly, they were looking at a memory from earlier that evening. He and Lily, in the lab, locked in passionate embrace. Lips and hands moving urgently against one another. Throaty sighs and panted breath the only sounds filling the air.

Severus slammed his occlumency barriers back up.

Dumbledore was sitting opposite, looking totally unabashed as he regarded him. And then the old man's eyes began to twinkle.

"That was private."

"Ah. But, Severus, you invited me to look."

Severus only glowered at him, feeling a heat rise up his neck, as anger and embarrassment warred with one another.

"I was not aware that your relationship with Mrs Potter had developed to such levels of intimacy –"

"It is none of your business."

Dumbledore only continued to look at him, his eyes glinting with amusement at Severus' discomfort. And Severus cursed himself for his foolishness as a boy. For playing his hand so openly, now finding himself in a situation where the two most powerful wizards in existence were both keenly aware of his weakness. And he was quite certain both would be willing to use it against him, should the inclination ever arise.

"We are not intimate."

"Indeed, Severus? I believe I saw something different."

"You saw a lapse in judgement. The first and the last of such."

"Now, my boy. That was no ordinary kiss."

Severus narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore, the continuing twinkle becoming infuriating; "As flattering as your assessment of my technique may be, Headmaster, I assure you, it was quite unremarkable. We did not see stars and the Earth did not move."

Dumbledore was smiling outright now.

"There is no need to be embarrassed, Severus. I know how Lily –"

"For Merlin's – hell – it was a mistake, Dumbledore! One that I have no intention of repeating." Severus cast glaring eyes around the room; "Nor does Lily. I am certain that once she learns that I have been keeping such a substantial piece of information from her for these past several months that the inclination will have long passed. Especially as regards her son."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was suddenly gone.

Severus met his look evenly.

Dumbledore drew in a breath, shifting in his chair; "You informed her of the prophecy."

"I did."

"Why?"

"You don't think she ought to have known? The boy is her son."

"And I have assured you, repeatedly, Severus, that the prophecy does not concern Harry Potter. Neville Longbottom is the chosen one."

"Then it should not matter that Lily now knows."

"Surely you understand the necessity for discretion in this case? If your old Master was to suspect that I know more, that I believed it to pertain to a child other than the one which he believes to be the threat, that this would only result in further actions being taken against the child of which the prophecy does not concern."

"He chose Harry Potter first."

"Severus, that is not the way it works."

"How would I know? You have told me nothing."

Dumbledore regarded him coolly; "And so it shall remain. It seems yourself and Regulus are incapable of controlling the information you leak to those whom you regard with affection."

"If you did not want Lily to know then it might have been a prudent move on your part to inform me that you had concealed it from her in the first place."

Dumbledore looked contemplative.

"What's done is done, Severus. If you wish to take on the task of guarding Lily's child, by all means, do so, but it is unnecessary. Events have already been set in motion and, I am certain, that the child on whom we must concentrate our efforts is Mr Longbottom. Do not allow your feelings to affect your better judgement. Any deviation in our behaviour will only draw attention to the Potters."

Severus lowered his eyes, drawing in a breath, as he considered the older man's words.

"Though it seems as if his focus is elsewhere for the time being. And I must admit I have my doubts that Voldemort's current motivation is driven by a simple wish to return Regulus to the ranks. While Mr Black is an agreeable boy, he is hardly an exceptional talent and even his highly regarded role within the Wizarding World is scarcely something that warrants such intense focus from Voldemort himself. It would be a concession simply to assign the task to you, alone, when he could put you to work on far more pressing matters."

Severus glowered at him, offended on behalf of his friend, even if what Dumbledore said rang true. The Dark Lord would not have gone to such lengths to save a Death Eater in the past. This was different.

"Then what do you think is motivating him?"

"Ah. The magic, Severus."

He met his eyes.

"Blood Magic. A far more likely cause for his concern is that he wishes to study the curse by which Regulus has been afflicted."

Severus nodded, slowly, in agreement.

He hesitated before speaking; "You wish for me to…thwart the attempt to revive Regulus so as to prevent the Dark Lord from learning more?"

Let Regulus die.

The unspoken words hung in the air.

Dumbledore regarded him openly, seeming to read every thought within his mind, even if he knew, logically, that even a legillimens could not read minds in such a way. It could not sense feelings.

Though Severus doubted legilliemency was even needed in this case.

Let Regulus die; that was something he could not do.

Some things could not be compromised.

Regulus' life.

Lily's life.

Severus was not a martyr; he could not stand aside and sacrifice those he cared for in the name of the Greater Good. He was not that cold. Or, rather, he was not that strong.

Thankfully, Dumbledore did not seem inclined to ask that of him; "Such a request would prove futile, I am certain. In any case, it is unnecessary. As Voldemort has seen fit to involve you – or, as I am beginning to suspect, needs your assistance, for he seems quite eager to appease you, Severus – well, if you are to be involved in such a way in his assessments then anything he learns you and I shall be aware of also."

Only a quietly released breath revealed his relief.

"I shall call the Order to reconvene this evening," Dumbledore stated, glancing at the timepiece on the wall that told them it was now almost four in the morning; "For now, we shall be cautious. I will inform Augusta Longbottom of Voldemort's return immediately, of course, and make arrangements for their concealment."

Severus clenched his jaw, thoughts returning to Lily once again. And the boy.

Dumbledore seemed to sense his shift in focus.

"The protection of Harry Potter shall be arranged this evening. It will be done in a way that is as understated as possible, so as not to draw attention to them. Sirius Black began training as an Auror following Hogwarts and is a long standing member of the Ord-"

"You cannot be serious!" Severus hissed, enraged at what he knew was coming; "It was because of that man's insistence that Lupin was the spy that Pettigrew was instated as the Potters' secret keeper in the first place! If the Dark Lord had come after them – Lily and the boy need real protective measures in place! Black is nowhere near adequate –"

"Sirius managed to successfully conceal them for several months in the previous war through the use of wards and enchantments prior to the use of the Fidelius Charm. And his motivations to do so have only increased since then. Sirius Black raised the boy with Lily, Severus. Do you doubt that he would be willing to protect them with his life?"

"That means nothing when the Dark Lord could kill him within seconds, Dumbledore!"

"Severus, enough." The old man said, wearily; "In this matter, it cannot be expected of you to think rationally. As I have already said, anything overt will only put Lily and her son in increased danger of suspicion. Until Voldemort confides in his Death Eaters that Harry Potter is considered to be of interest to him, we will do nothing to force his hand."

"Put them back under the Fidelius."

"Deep hiding, Severus? And you don't think Voldemort would respond in kind? To do so would be to mark them for death and relegate them to concealment for the remainder of the war, however long that may be, keeping them isolated from friends and family. From the Wizarding World at large. Hardly a way to live, don't you think? Especially when the need for such measures is grossly exaggerated."

"At least they would be alive."

"Even if Lily were to agree to such a thing, we have seen before that the Fidelius Charm is by no means foolproof. And suggesting it to her, Severus," he went on, warningly, "Will do nothing but instil fear within her. I ask you; do not behave rashly in this matter. To do so will only bring down further danger upon them."

Severus pursed his lips together, feeling his hands shaking in his lap as he considered the other man's words. Forced himself to think rationally, as the old man was saying; reminded himself that keeping Lily and her son off the Dark Lord's radar was what he had always planned to do. That any move against him would only draw attention, suspicion, just as Dumbledore said.

Forced himself to trust the Headmaster before him.

"Very well."

Dumbledore titled his chin downwards in a slight nod but, now, he seemed considering, almost uneasy as he regarded him.

"Severus, while your old Master may have agreed to spare her, even turn a blind eye to your feelings or, indeed, your pursuit of Mrs Potter – well, I hardly feel it is necessary that I advise you of the imprudence of such an endeavour on your part. And yet I believe I must."

Severus' eyes narrowed; "I told you. What you saw was a mistake."

"Indeed you did. A mistake more than seven years in the making."

Severus glowered at him.

"I do not mean to 'poke my nose in' where it does not belong, Severus, but I can sense the passion with which you speak of her, your wish to protect her. Even after all these years. While admirable, it is hardly conductive to your abilities to convincingly act the dutiful servant to your master."

"And which master is that?" Severus said, lowly.

Dumbledore lifted his chin; "And while Voldemort may have conceded on this matter of the heart, have you come to such an arrangement with Healer Eugene Hopkins? It is almost…insensitive of me to paint reminder to what happened to Miss Evelyn Redway, however –"

"I am not a fool, Dumbledore!" Severus interrupted him, his blood boiling; "Do you think I have not considered this? I have no intentions of pursuing her."

"Ah, but Severus, are you certain her resolve is the same?"

Severus drew in a breath; "Obtuseness does not suit you, Headmaster. I am quite certain you are aware that hell would sooner freeze over than I should find myself fending off the advances of Lily Potter."

Perhaps that was so not twelve hours or so ago, Severus found himself thinking; now, things were slightly less certain. Lily had kissed him first. And, before that, she had attempted to initiate another; tonight being the second move on her side to do so. The thought was both concerning and…not.

"You do not give yourself enough credit, my boy. Then again, perhaps in some matters, you give yourself too much."

Severus raised an eyebrow; "Meaning?"

"Only that I am left wondering, Severus, that if your resolve to keep her at distance should hold up in the face of the very real possibility that Mrs Potter may just pursue you."

Severus said nothing.

This was not a matter he was going to discuss with anyone. Least of all with Dumbledore. And Severus was not fool enough to believe the Headmaster was sharing this advice out of concern for either his, nor even Lily's welfare. Severus was not being entirely flippant when he had asked which master he would fail to impress while under Lily's influence.

"I shall see you again this evening, Severus."

Severus stood, effectively dismissed, even more aggravated following his conversation with Dumbledore than he had been following his reunion with the Dark Lord. He only inclined his head, offering no parting comment, and turned to head for the door.

"Severus."

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Do be careful."

With regards to Lily or the Dark Lord, Severus didn't know. Nor did he ask. Merely eyed the Headmaster before resuming his steps, swept from the office and down to the dungeons.

Lay in his chambers and awaited a sleep that did not come.

* * *

Sirius glanced with concern at his nephew, who had barely touched the cereal he had placed in front of him almost twenty minutes before.

"You alright, kid?"

Malachi made a murmur of consent but carried on pushing the little hoops around in his bowl, disinterestedly. The boy had been quiet, withdrawn, ever since Snape had handed the boy over to him so abruptly the night before – another matter that still concerned him – and had been eager to simply go to bed once Sirius has ushered him, along with Lily and Harry, back to the house.

Lily, also, had been strangely withdrawn when he had finally found her and told her they had to leave the Fundraiser immediately, offering up no resistance, only curiosity and then concern when Sirius had alerted one of the security personnel that he had reason to believe the building would soon be under attack.

The building was cleared out instantly.

And no attack had come. Whether because of the evacuation or because there had never been any plans to in the first place, no one knew. But many had heard it was the actions of Sirius Black that had led to the commotion, the dramatics. A known adversary of his brother and his concerns had been dismissed and condemned as those of a jealous, vindictive man unable to quietly accept his younger brother's success in the world.

"Hey." Sirius reached out, touching a hand to Malachi's shoulder and the boy flinched. Sirius frowned; "Malachi, what's wrong?" His mind flashed back to the moment he had come across him the night before, Snape dragging him down the hall by the arm, and he scowled; "Did something happen last night? Did Snape hurt you?"

Malachi looked up at him, sharply, frowning; "No."

"You can tell me if he did, Malachi."

"But…he didn't. Why would Severus hurt me?"

Sirius ignored the question, softening his tone; "Well, I can see that there's something wrong." Harry suddenly ran down the stairs, past them, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate in the middle of the table, as he headed over to the fridge.

Malachi looked down, drawing into himself as he did so; "I'm okay."

"Malachi." Sirius risked touching him again, hand on his shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze, but, while the boy didn't flinch away as he did before, he still tensed beneath his touch.

"He's upset because Draco Malfoy said people like you killed his dad," Harry stated, mouth full of the toast he had picked up, as he plonked down on the seat next to him. Malachi lifted his chin, shooting a glare in Harry's direction, to which Harry only shrugged, before taking a gulp of the pumpkin juice he had helped himself to.

Sirius drew in a breath, turning his attention back to his nephew; "Malachi. I'd never hurt your dad."

Malachi kept his eyes on the bowl in front of him, speaking quietly; "My dad doesn't like you."

Sirius hesitated.

Then he nodded; "I know."

"He…he told me you don't like him either."

"Hey." Sirius spoke softly, and he lowered himself to kneel next to the boy's chair, straining a little on his legs as he did. Still not quite right. And he put his hands on both the boy's arms, turning Malachi to face him; "Listen to me, kid. I love your dad, alright? Sure, I guess we don't like each other very much sometimes. Hey, I bet your dad really doesn't like me at all. But that's not how it is for me, okay? He's my kid brother. I'd never want him hurt or anything like what those people have done to him."

Malachi only looked at him with uncertainty; "You don't look like you love each other. My dad and Severus, that's what brothers looks like."

Sirius fought to control the sudden burst of white fury that rose within him at the statement. Forced it down.

"Well. I am his brother. And, sure, maybe your dad likes Sna…Severus more than he likes me. They're friends. Your dad picked him. You don't pick family."

Malachi stared at him.

"But you love them all the same."

Malachi lowered his eyes, before lifting them back to Sirius', shyly; "Why doesn't my dad like you?"

Sirius drew in a breath, lifting his chin slightly; "Because I left him, kid."

"Left him where?"

"With people I should have protected him from."

When Malachi only looked at him, a seeming grimness in his expression, as if he knew Sirius ought to tell him more. He sighed and went on.

"Our parents. Our dad, well. He wasn't like your dad. He wasn't like me. He didn't think like we do. He believed in something else."

"What things?"

"Stupid things."

"Things like mudbloods and blood traitors?" Harry offered up, having been unusually quiet throughout the encounter.

"Yeah." Sirius nodded, giving his Godson a small smile, before turning his eyes back to Malachi; "Things like that."

"I don't understand. Draco thinks you and dad are different. He said that you and people like you were different from my dad. And if he thinks you're a blood traitor then, that means, he thinks my dad was just like his dad. So, he believes in mudbloods. Or, he thinks they're bad?" He looked at Harry, raising an eyebrow; "Right?"

Harry nodded, leaning over Malachi's shoulder to look at Sirius; "Yeah. That's what Draco said."

Sirius drew in a breath, feeling uneasy under the boys' curious gazes, as they innocently questioned Regulus' beliefs, his past, his mistakes; things Malachi shouldn't have been exposed to in the first place at only six years old.

"We're not different, Malachi. We're the same. Your dad fights for people like us. That's what the Foundation does. It takes care of people. The people that were hurt by the ones who think being muggleborn is wrong. Draco is just a little boy, he believes everything that his mum and dad tell him; he doesn't realise yet that it's wrong. And Draco's parents, his mum, she's my cousin. Her mum and dad were just like mine; they taught her the same things. She didn't realise that what they taught her was wrong but your dad did. When he was a kid, like Draco, he didn't know better. But now he does."

Malachi looked at him, his voice a whisper; "Did my dad hurt people?"

"Malachi." Sirius tightened his grip on Malachi's arms; "Your dad helps people."

"That's what mum used to say. She used to say he was out saving the world."

Sirius grinned; "Mm. Then I can see why your dad loved her. My little brother, the superhero?"

Malachi gave him a sad smile, lowering his eyes; "Now he's gonna die."

"Nope." Sirius shook his head, his tone light; "Not happening, kid. You think my brother, the superhero, is gonna die from some little curse? Please."

"You really think he'll be okay?" Malachi looked at him, his eyes hopeful, though uncertain.

"I do. Yep. I know he will be."

"How? My dad's gone."

"Harry." Sirius pressed his eyes shut at his Godson's unhelpful contribution; "That…was different."

"How? Bad people hurt him too. And you and mum kept acting like it was fine and that he was there and that he was listening but he isn't. And that just makes it worse. We're not babies. Don't lie to us."

Malachi looked at Harry and Harry looked back, giving him sad smile in turn, nudging Malachi's arm with his. The younger boy swallowed and nodded, glancing back at Sirius, his voice quiet and shaky when he spoke; "Can we go and see him? If…I want to see him again. Before…"

Sirius drew in a breath and nodded.


	27. October 1987: Call to Order

"Do you think he can hear us?" Malachi whispered.

Sirius' eyes went to his nephew, who lay curled up against Regulus' side, having climbed up onto the bed immediately upon their arrival at St Mungo's, entirely unafraid by the sickly sight of his father.

The same could not be said for his uncle, for Sirius was floored by it. How pale and weak his little brother looked where he lay against the bed, still as the dead, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, the bluish tint of his eyelids and lips an alarming sign of his deteriorating condition.

Sirius forced a smile and gave Malachi a nod; "Sure he can, Kid."

He reached down, taking Regulus' hand in his - tried not to flinch at how ice cold it felt when he grasped it gently - and said, shakily; "Isn't that right, little brother?"

Malachi smiled, slowly lifting his head from where it had been resting against Regulus chest - wanting to listen to his heartbeat, the little boy had said - and looked at his dad's pale face.

He shimmied up a bit from where he lay in the bed, touching his lips to Regulus' cheek and whispered; "Love you, Dad."

Sirius drew in a breath, eyes upon Regulus' face when Malachi settled back down against him, and he felt it then.

All the grief and regret and sorrow at what he had done. How Sirius had left him to fend them all of, himself. All of their expectations, their judgements, their prejudices. His soft little brother, so eager to please, unable to ever be willing to disappoint anyone.

He didn't stand a chance.

Sirius tightened his hold on Regulus' hand - hoping it didn't hurt - and made a quiet vow to himself as he did.

That so long as Sirius lived, no harm would ever come again to his little brother.

* * *

Dumbledore's patronus was just as Lily remembered.

Vivid and bright.

Just the sight of it chilled her to the bone.

Threw her back to darker times; times when every moment she had feared for her life, for the life of her husband, her friends. Her son.

The silver phoenix spoke; the voice as commanding, as familiar as always.

The Order of the Phoenix was to reconvene this evening, as a matter of urgency. 8 o' clock. Location Greenwood.

Location Greenwood; the old wizard certainly had faith in their memories, if he was still using the code names from so long ago to arrange their meetings. But, then again, Lily guessed that no one could ever forget. The memories of those days of the war so ingrained within their minds.

Remus was at her door within half an hour; pale and sickly and exhausted as a result of the full moon the previous evening. But his eyes were wide with the implications of the message they had received and they had sat, mulling over the possibilities for over an hour.

Getting nowhere.

The conversation didn't start heating up until Sirius had returned home from St Mungo's with the boys, his own message not received until they had gone running upstairs, the large silver phoenix reappearing in the kitchen and delivering the same words that she and Remus had been concerning themselves with.

Sirius eyes darkened as he took a seat at the table; "You know what this means right?"

Neither Lily nor Remus had the chance to say anything, Sirius carrying on regardless of their input.

"Death Eaters have been called to ranks. And, now, so have we."

"Voldemort is dead, Sirius," Lily stated the obvious.

"Yeah, sure, _that_ one's dead. What's to say that someone else hasn't decided to take his place?" Sirius leaned in closer; "I told you. The way Malfoy was behaving last night – he couldn't get out of the fundraiser fast enough –"

"The fundraiser you had emptied out?" Remus eyed him.

"For good reason, too! The only reason they didn't attack was because we evacuated the place before they had the chance. If I hadn't overheard – hell, we could be dead!"

Lily shook her head, even if his assertion were true; "Death Eaters have been attacking for weeks. If Dumbledore's calling on us _now_ then something must have changed."

"Yeah. New big bad is on the horizon, that's what. I told you about what Malfoy was doing." He suddenly straightened; "And Snape!"

Lily flinched; "What does Severus have to do with anything?"

"I saw him; he was acting nuts. He practically threw Malachi at me before he ran off; off in the same direction as his partner in crime. Wherever Malfoy went, Snape was with him. Even more evidence that they expected the Foundation to be atta-"

"If Severus thought that, he wouldn't have left Malachi there, Sirius."

"He might have if he thought it'd make him look innocent."

Lily shot him a look. She couldn't exactly say to them that the reason Severus had taken off so abruptly was because of _her_.

"Forget about what you think you feel about the guy, Lil'. You know as well as me, Snape was a Death Eater –"

"You don't know that."

"I don't – fucking _hell,_ Lily –"

"Even if he was, he obviously isn't on that side of the war now."

"If you don't _wake up_ you're gonna get yourself killed!"

"Sirius, don't start –"

" _Both of you,_ don't start." Remus spoke with a weariness that spoke both of exhaustion and exasperation; "Whatever it is, the last thing we need is to break down and fight amongst ourselves about things we have –" warning eyes were suddenly directed towards Sirius; " _no proof_ of. And if it is Death Eaters, Snape is the least of our worries."

"Unless he is one."

"That's enough." Remus said, quickly, before Lily could retort.

"Oh, come on, Remus, don't try and act all high and noble because you're worried about sparing Lily's feelings. _You_ know as well as me that Snape was, _is,_ a Death Eater – just like Lily does, even if she won't admit it – and him and Malfoy running out of that place last night, Dumbledore calling the Order less than twenty-four hours later…only an idiot wouldn't realise what that means. Someone called the Death Eaters out."

"And who has the power to call on the Death Eaters, Sirius?" Lily glowered at him.

"Well, I guess someone else has just decided to rise up and take Voldemort's place."

"And they all just go running?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know how it works, Lily. You'd have to ask your good friend Snivellus for more information on that front."

Remus stood, abruptly; "Well, as productive as all this is, I'm afraid I have to be off. Maybe get a bit of sleep before all hell breaks loose tonight." He turned, heading for the door; "Good talk." And then he left, slamming the door with more force than necessary behind him as he did.

An uneasy silence settled in the room.

Lily risked a glance at Sirius, who glared darkly at the table, and she felt a little wave of guilt wash over her. Here she was, fighting with Sirius about something, defending Severus against a charge that she _knew_ was true. Even if she was entirely sure of his loyalties now, how he had changed sides during the war and his reasons for doing so, Sirius wasn't entirely wrong in his assertions.

Obviously, she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't confess Severus' past sins to Sirius. But, at the very least, she could try and steer clear of any discussion about it.

"Remus is right," she said, her defensiveness falling away; "It doesn't do us any good to fight amongst ourselves. Not now."

Sirius met her eyes.

"Let's…let's just go to the meeting and see what it is Dumbledore wants."

"I'm worried about you, Lily."

"Sirius –"

"No. Don't tell me to shut up or to mind my own business or whatever else you're ready to say to me. It may not seem like it to you – hell, it may not even be welcome – but I actually _care_ about you, Lil'. And you're too good, you know? You just look at people and it's like – oh, hey, they couldn't _possibly_ be bad or dangerous or whatever – I'll just give them the benefit of the doubt. I mean, come on, you couldn't believe it when Remus told you what he is even though it was so damn _obvious_. And, yeah, sure, that's all well and good. We all love you for it. But, you know what, Lil'? I'm not gonna just stand back and let that bastard hurt you."

Lily drew in a breath; "Sirius. He _won't_."

"That's right," Sirius said, resolutely, his expression grim, a warning; "Because he won't get the chance."

And then he stood, leaving her alone.

* * *

During the war, Severus had never attended an Order meeting.

Every report he made to Dumbledore was done so in the privacy of the Headmaster's office, the decision being that his new role as spy ought to be kept as quiet as possible, even from the Order members. After all, Dumbledore was aware there was a spy within his own ranks and it wouldn't do for the Dark Lord to receive reports that Severus Snape's loyalties were questionable.

His occlumency skills were average at best back then. Hence why the Dark Lord was so quickly able to identify the reasons behind his request that he allow Lily to live.

After a year of training with Dumbledore, his occlumency skills were far enough along that he was able to teach himself the rest. Able to build his own barriers; able to control his own emotions more effectively. Casting aside his old, emotive and immature self and heading off to Italy; returning changed.

Now, he could do it. He could, _had to_ , fool them all.

Even the Order couldn't know his reasons for turning to Dumbledore.

The Dark Lord was pleased when Severus had relayed the news to him; that the Order had been called to reconvene and he had, as hoped, been accepted into the circle of trust. Another little tick against his name in his old master's mind; his usefulness increasing.

As Severus had never been to one of these meetings, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. What would be said or who would be seen.

Some things, however, were as predictable as always.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Sirius Black snarled, as Severus walked into the room.

Severus only eyed him. Although Black was the only one who expressed the thought verbally, he could easily see that his feelings were not unique. Several of the others in the room eyed him with wariness, all wondering the same thing.

"Ah, Severus. Do take a seat." Dumbledore smiled warmly at him, warmer than he was accustomed to, as he indicated the chair at his side.

He made his way over and did as the old wizard said, ignoring the eyes of those that followed and settled on him, and did his best to blend into the furniture. Waited impatiently for proceedings to begin.

While Severus was certain many in the room suspected that he had been a Death Eater some years before, the only people here who actually _knew_ that for a fact could be counted on two fingers; Albus Dumbledore and Lily.

After tonight, everyone here would know.

Severus caught Lily taking a seat across the table, next to Black, and studiously avoided looking in her direction, averting his eyes when he sensed her own attention coming to focus on him; accidentally meeting the eyes of Remus Lupin as he sat down on the other side of her.

Lupin stared back at him with undisguised curiosity and Severus glowered at him in return.

"It is good to see you all again," Dumbledore said, warmly, when everyone had finally sat down around the long table; "I only wish it had been under better circumstances. As I'm sure you are all curious to learn of the reasons for this meeting, I shall get right to the point. Voldemort has returned."

Tense silence descended.

And then, uproar.

Voices all sounding at once; amongst themselves, questions directed at the old man without waiting for responses.

Dumbledore sat patiently, as the scene played out.

Severus, who had remained silent, lifted his gaze and met Lily's eyes across the table.

The question was evident in her eyes, eyes that expressed shock, uncertainty, fear; _did you know?_

"I understand this is a shock. But we must cast such feelings aside, the questions of how and why unimportant at the present moment," Dumbledore stated, when the chaos gradually began to die down, bringing everyone to silence with his authoritative tone; "For now, we must focus ourselves on the immediate response."

"But how is this possible, Albus?" Arthur Weasley couldn't help asking, despite the old man's words; "How do you know he's back?"

"I have received intelligence from a source that his return is so."

"Which source?" Sirius Black was glaring at Severus across the table.

"One that I trust, Mr Black. Now –"

"I'm not talking about Voldemort while his Death Eaters are in the room."

Voices erupted once again, hushed whispers this time.

Severus shifted in his seat, his discomfort increasing tenfold, and he found himself wishing that perhaps Dumbledore didn't trust him as much as he apparently did; that he had decided clandestine meetings, like before, would be sufficient.

"I understand that there is a rather colourful history amongst some of those within this room. Under the circumstances, I ask that we put these differences aside in favour of dealing with the issues at hand. We are all on the same side here."

Sirius Black looked ready to explode and Severus found a smirk tugging at his lips; did nothing to conceal it and enjoyed the way Black's face reddened in turn.

And then Severus met Lily's eyes and his amusement fell away.

There was more than just a hint of betrayal lying within her gaze.

"What do we know, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall spoke up.

"We know that Voldemort's return took place last night –"

"Because he summoned his Death Eaters?" Remus Lupin's voice wasn't dripping with the same hostility that Black's had been but his eyes were on Severus, conveying his distrust. And also the dawning realisation that, yes, Severus had been – is – a Death Eater.

"Correct, Mr Lupin. And I ask that we try to restrain ourselves from further unnecessary commentary for the remainder of this meeting, otherwise I fear we will get nowhere in our plans to respond. Yes, last night Voldemort called upon his Death Eaters and revealed himself to them. As yet, his long term plans have not been revealed, however we can expect to hear more soon –"

The tension coiled amongst those of Hogwarts Class of 1978, as they sat in silence while their old Headmaster spoke, gave his opinions, his instructions, his information. Eyes meeting and glaring and softening in turn, as Severus' glance moved between Black and Lupin and Lily, respectively.

"What of the boy, Albus?" Minerva said, when Dumbledore's speech ended; "Neville Longbottom."

"Ah. Yes, I have alerted the boy's grandmother as to the situation and offered her the assistance of the Order in concealing them both. However, Augusta has refused the offer and, at the moment, appears to have fled with her grandson."

Severus looked at him, sharply, while murmurs arose.

"But that's insane! If You-Know-Who is going after him, then they don't stand a chance!" Molly Weasley burst out.

"Indeed. But we have time to locate them and assign special protection –"

Someone Severus didn't recognise spoke up; "Why would You-Know-Who go after the boy? With his parents dead, surely there's no reason for the Longbottoms to still be in danger?"

Severus met Lily's eyes across the table. She drew in a breath and looked expectantly at Dumbledore; who had glanced between the two of them at the exchange.

"It is my belief that the rumours regarding the boy's survival may lead to Voldemort wishing to extinguish any doubts as to the levels of power he holds; it undoubtedly rankles with him that people believe that he was defeated by a child."

"The rumours? He'd waste his time hunting and killing a child just to prove a point?" Lupin spoke up.

"I believe he would. Nonetheless, you are correct in your reasoning that it is hardly something he would consider a top priority. As yet, he has not yet expressed a wish to do so. Which gives us the necessary time to locate Mrs Longbottom and her grandson."

"What about the others he was hunting?" Lily spoke for the first time.

A stillness settled over the room, all eyes on her, as all remembered that she was one of the ones who had been so and was the only one of the four Order members targeted to escape alive.

Her expression was hard set as she addressed the old man, challenging him to lie to her.

Dumbledore met her eyes, looking at her cautiously for a moment. He gave a brief glance in Severus' direction, before addressing her; "It is my belief that Voldemort is not currently concerning himself with the same agendas he had been caught up with in the past."

"You'll have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe," Lily said, unwaveringly. And then her eyes flashed; "Need I remind you that I have…a _son_ , Professor?"

Severus expected him to respond with the same coolness with which he had received the previous evening, when he had brought up the issue of Lily's safety. Instead, Dumbledore's eyes softened considerably.

"You needn't, Lily. I understand your concerns. If you wish to discuss the matter further, I ask that you stay behind at the end of the meeting and we shall give the issue the due time and consideration it deserves. Privately."

"Damn right, privately!" Black suddenly erupted; "I'm sorry. But this has gone on long enough! No way are we sitting here talking about Lily and Harry's safety when Snivellus over there is just going to run back and tell his whip-master everything that we've just talked about!"

"Mr Black –"

"And how the hell do we know that Voldemort isn't already planning on coming after them _right now?_ Augusta Longbottom and her grandson could have already been killed! Lily and Harry could be next!"

"This is hardly the time for such hysterics, Mr Black," Minerva said, sternly, with a concerned glance in Lily's direction.

"Well when is the time? After they're already _dead_?"

"Your input is proving as helpful as ever, Black." Severus spoke for the first time, his eyes dark, tense and aggravated at the reminder of the danger to Lily.

"Shut up, Snivellus."

"Charming as always, also?"

"Why don't you tell everyone here where you were last night, Snape? Huh? Let them all see you for what you _really_ are."

"Very well. I was with the Dark Lord."

Silence.

" _I fucking knew it_!"

"Of course you did. Even to a mind as simple as yours it was… _obvious_."

Uproar erupted once again; voices louder this time. Some talking amongst themselves. Some directed at him; various obscenities fired his way.

And then Dumbledore held up a hand in a manner so commanding that it instantly silenced all in the room.

"What Severus is failing to tell you – for dramatic effect, I might add –" Dumbledore shot him a disapproving look; "is that he long ago turned to our side and has been a spy for us since before the end of the war. As such, his loyalties are not under question."

"This is dragonshit," Black breathed; "You can't seriously trust him, Dumbledore!"

"Severus' defection has been of unmeasurable assistance to us, Sirius. At great personal risk to himself, it was through Severus that we learned of Voldemort's intentions to hunt the Potters and the Longbottoms in the past, which allowed us to bring about the measures to protect them –"

"Fat load of good that did! Frank and Alice are dead. And James is pretty much as good as too-"

"A fact you can only blame on yourself; were you not the one who convinced your friend to trust _Pettigrew_?" Severus snarled back.

Black was suddenly on his feet and Severus, swift in his reflexes, followed within a second; wands drawn and raised, pointed menacingly in one another's faces.

Severus caught Lily rolling her eyes out the corner of his, as she slumped back in her seat.

"What did you even care what happened to James?" Black ground out, eyes still hard on his.

"I didn't." It came out as a hiss.

And then two bursts of light erupted from each wand, clashing in the middle of the table. And then, suddenly, both men were disarmed and the wands flew into the outstretched hand of their old Headmaster.

"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice was slightly raised; "These schoolboy antics are not welcome here. I ask that you behave as the grown men you both are."

Dumbledore tucked the disarmed wands into his robes and it was almost laughable; he had had his wand _confiscated_ by the Headmaster. That hadn't even happened to him as a child at Hogwarts.

Severus and Black glared at one another as they slowly lowered themselves back to their seats.

* * *

Severus swept out of the room, swiftly, following the end of the meeting and Lily was torn, the urge to go after him and demand an explanation at once strong, but she had to speak to Dumbledore.

And Harry always came first.

Lily walked up to the front of the room, where Dumbledore stood, speaking quietly with Professor McGonagall. They both gave her a warm smile when she approached, the older woman giving her a squeeze on her shoulder, a rare demonstration of affection, before she left them alone.

"Ah. Mrs Potter. I had expected Mr Black or, perhaps, Mr Lupin to stay back with you."

"Remus is still unwell after last night. And Sirius is being…uncompromising."

Dumbledore chuckled; "Yes. I believe we all noticed as much."

Lily stepped closer to him, a desperation coming over her; "Professor, please. Tell me the truth. Severus told me about the prophecy. That it was Harry that Voldemort was hunting before."

"Yes, he and I discussed it last night."

"You did?"

"He shares your concerns."

"Then…then he is in danger? Harry? If Severus thinks so –"

"Severus' knowledge of the matter, while more than most, is still limited. He is not aware –"

"No riddles, Albus," Lily interrupted him; " _Is_ my son in danger?"

Dumbledore stared at her for a moment.

After a second, he gave a single nod; "I believe so."

Lily felt her stomach drop.

"But that will only be the case if we do anything that forces Voldemort's hand. I am not entirely certain of the particulars that Severus relayed to you but, as I have been attempting to explain to him, for the moment, it is my strong belief that the prophecy pertains to Neville Longbottom. As is the case for Voldemort. So long as it remains so, your son will be safe."

Lily felt her patience snap; "Severus didn't reveal _particulars_ because he doesn't know them himself! This is my _son_ we're talking about Dumbledore, tell me what's going on. Why does it matter who Voldemort believes it is? How is it possible that he gets to 'choose' the boy it means – that's what Severus told me. That Voldemort decides. And he couldn't explain it. _You_ can."

"Please, take a seat." Dumbledore sat down.

Lily glared at him but, after a moment, did as he said.

He drew in a breath, silent for a moment, before he spoke; "The prophecy was revealed in early February before your son was born; it stated that the child, one who had the power to defeat Voldemort, would be born at the end of July. This is all that Voldemort knows. What the latter does not know is that the prophecy goes on to state that the child will be chosen by Voldemort himself; he will seek the child and create his own rival. And that rival will either be the undoing of him, or vice versa. For this reason, because his attention is upon Neville Longbottom, it is important that we do not do anything that will draw attention to your son."

"Why doesn't he just kill them both?"

"I believe that was his intention before, when things were far more uncertain. Now he has stronger reason to believe that Neville is the one to whom the prophecy refers; the boy was the only survivor of the attack that night."

Lily was quiet as she considered the information.

"While Voldemort does not know the remainder of the prophecy, he is aware that what _was_ revealed to him was incomplete. And he is aware that I know the rest. As such, if I was to make any move that would suggest I believe it possible that another child is the one to whom the prophecy refers…that child would be put into significant danger."

"So…your answer is to do nothing?"

"Not at all. But we shall have to be discreet. Sirius Black concealed yourself and your husband successfully previously and, as Mr Black currently shares residence with you, it will be quite easy for him to resume his previous task without drawing any attention from Voldemort or his followers."

"What does Severus think about this?"

Dumbledore's eyes squinted a little at the question; "I suppose you shall just have to ask him yourself. Though I'm certain he has conceded that discretion is the best course of action to take."

"I'm not asking to be difficult, Professor, I'm asking because he's the spy. Isn't that right? He, more than anyone, knows what Voldemort could do."

"Precisely, Lily, he does. And if he believed you to be in any overt danger then I am certain he would speak up. As yet, his concerns are driven by fear for your safety which is understandable but unproductive. Like I said, if we do anything out of the ordinary, especially under my instruction, this will only draw attention to your son."

Dumbledore's argument was sound but it still left her uneasy. Carry on as normal, just with a few extra charms placed over the house? That didn't sound conductive to protection. But, then, if what the old wizard was saying was true, Harry was only in need of protection if they did anything to alert Voldemort of his need for any in the first place.

Lily drew in a breath, fear twisting sickeningly within her.

"Lily," Dumbledore said softly, "If circumstances should change, we shall respond as such. I am confident that there will be time to do so. Severus is very well thought of within Voldemort's circle and I'm sure you're aware of the depths of his feelings for you…"

Lily looked at him, sharply, frowning. While that may be so, considering the kiss they had shared the night before and her, now, putting the pieces together and realising it was Voldemort who had caused Severus to flee and not what had happened, she did not expect such feelings to have been expressed to or known by _Dumbledore_ of all people.

The Headmaster suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if he realised he had said too much; "Perhaps I presume too much. Nevertheless, I am sure you are aware that your safety is a concern which Severus takes very seriously. As such, even the slightest hint from his old master that he intends to come after your son will be noticed by him and alerted to us promptly."

Lily drew in a breath and nodded, knowing the truth in his words.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose so."

The two of them sat there a little while longer, though little else needed to be said. Dumbledore had said his piece, giving her a choice; live as they always had, with some added protection, and await any further information that implicated Harry. Hope for the best, that he would be overlooked, that it would be fine. Or go into hiding, now, and implicate Harry themselves. Mark him for the hunt. For death.

The first option was only marginally better; inaction seeming foolish but the alternative rash and both were potentially devastating.

She returned home with her heart heavy, her stomach tight with dread. With the fear that she had chosen wrongly; that her son's life was in her hands.

"-nerve to come here. He's not going anywhere with you!"

Lily frowned as she entered the house, hearing Sirius' heated voice in the kitchen.

"The boy is my Godson and, as such, he belongs with me."

Severus.

Lily hesitated for a second and then made her across the sitting room, pushing open the door to the kitchen, where Sirius stood. Wand clutched tight in his hand. Severus was at the door, still standing outside on the pavement, his own wand drawn in turn.

Remus was sitting at the table, looking exasperated; "Sirius. Just call for Malachi."

"Like hell I am!"

"What's going on?" Lily asked, drawing their attention to her.

Severus seemed to tense when their eyes met and he lifted his chin; "I was merely returning to collect Malachi from Black's care. Had I known he intended on taking the boy hostage –" he eyed Sirius; "-then I would never have left him with him in the first place."

"You just told us you're a fucking _Death Eater_ and now you expect me to just hand my nephew over to you? I don't think so."

"If it makes you feel any better, Black, the boy was practically raised by, we, Death Eaters and so far he has emerged unscathed."

"His mother is dead!"

Severus' eyes flashed; "Do not use Evelyn's death as a means of making a point, Black. I warn you."

"Sirius." Lily sighed, walking over to the staircase; "This isn't your decision. Regulus chose Severus knowing very well what he used to be." She leaned a hand on the wall as she called up the stairs to the boys to come down.

"Fuck this, Lily! Malachi is not going anywhere with him. Over my dead body!"

"That can be arranged."

Lily looked at Severus sharply. She wasn't in the mood for this. Harry and Malachi acted with more maturity than these two when they got together.

"Sirius –"

"You knew, didn't you?" Sirius suddenly rounded on her; "You had to. All that 'just trust me, Sirius' 'I know him, Sirius' and going about acting like you knew exactly what was going on. This whole time I've been trying to _protect_ you and you've just been laughing me in the face!"

"That wasn't how it was!"

"Mum?" Harry emerged, looking concernedly between the two of them.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Lily spoke softly, feeling her heart tighten at the sight of him. Reminded of her fears, what had happened that evening; imminent danger. Her little boy.

Lily reached a hand out and Harry went to her. She pulled him close, wrapping an arm across the front of his shoulders, as he looked at the doorway where Severus stood.

He smiled; "Hi Professor Snape!"

"Don't talk to him, Harry."

Malachi bounded down the steps, heading straight for Severus; "You're back!" He was suddenly seized by the arm as he made to bypass his uncle. He froze, looking up at Sirius in confusion.

"Sirius." Remus stood up; "I think there's been enough dramatics for one night. Don't put your brother's son in the middle of your battles."

Sirius glowered at Remus, but then softened his eyes as he looked down at Malachi; "You can stay here if you want, kid?"

Malachi stared up at him, his brows lowering, then over at Severus. Back and forth between the two and saying nothing, as uneasiness within him seemed to rise.

Lily sighed, releasing Harry and walking over, taking Sirius' hand from Malachi's arm. The boy looked up at him uncertainly, not making to move away; "I…I can come and see you again soon, Uncle Sirius."

Sirius drew in a breath, glowering at Severus where he stood, before he looked down and gave a tight smile to his nephew; "Count on it, kid."

Malachi smiled, then leaned to the side, shouting a bye to Harry, before he headed over to where Severus stood. Severus guided him by with a hand on his shoulder, his eyes meeting Lily's for a moment uncertainly.

Lily said nothing. She was still uncertain herself. Did Severus know Voldemort would return? Had he kept it from her? Surely he must have known. Dumbledore hadn't seemed surprised.

She wanted to go to him and ask; ask about Harry, the prophecy, what he thought she should do. He would know, better than anyone, but she could sense Sirius' eyes boring into the back of her head and there was no way she could speak with him properly under these circumstances.

She just tilted her chin in a nod.

Severus blinked, and then he turned on his heel and was gone.

She lifted her wand, closing the door behind him, and turned; Sirius was still standing there, eyes that had been boring into the back of her now glowering at her full on.

Lily exhaled, deflating at the betrayal in his expression; "Sirius –"

Sirius shook his head; "Don't." He glanced out the corner of his eye, in Harry's direction, where he watched them intently. Sirius stepped closer, his voice low, grounding out the words; "You are unbelievable."

And then he turned and headed upstairs.

* * *

An eerie silence seemed to settle in the aftermath of the Dark Lord's return.

The Order waiting with bated breath for the first strike.

Strikes that, even a week later, still hadn't come.

And Severus was able to offer little information. As far as he knew, the Dark Lord's concern was still entirely upon developing the brew that would lift the curse on Regulus, and he was privy to no further information regarding the Dark Lord's plans.

Until that evening. Though his next move was neither surprising nor unexpected.

"…You shall lead the group that will infiltrate the facility." The Dark Lord spoke with an almost laziness as he addressed Lucius; "I trust that you will be able to effectively release my remaining Death Eaters from the confines of Azkaban?"

His attention turned to the others in the room, sweeping a gaze across them; "Once we are reunited with our old friends, we shall begin preparations for our next move."

Severus' interest piqued, as they all awaited the information, what the next move would be. Though it did not come. Since his return, their Master had played all his cards incredibly close to the vest and revealed only the smallest pieces of information to his Death Eaters.

Severus had not even been informed of the decision to hunt and kill Igor Karkaroff and Rylan Mossburn; the first's decision to flee rather than return and the second's excuses not living up to the Dark Lord's scrutiny proving deadly.

And the Ministry, having been informed of the dark wizard's return immediately from Dumbledore the previous week, had done nothing in the way of response as yet.

Though, Severus mused, neither had the Order. For the Dark Lord had made no action for either to respond to.

Consequently, the Order's task for the week had been the search for Neville Longbottom, whose grandmother had foolishly thought to forgo their help and run with the boy; it would not take long for the Dark Lord to find him, should the inclination arise.

Especially considering…

"Have you any other news for me?"

Lucius nodded the affirmative; "Yes, my Lord. It has come to the attention of the Ministry that there has been a spiking of occurrences of accidental magic just this past week alone, all concerning the same child."

"And the child?"

"Neville Longbottom, my Lord."

A silence filled the air.

"Hm. Interesting."

The Dark Lord seemed neither interested nor concerned in the slightest.

His head turned sharply in Severus' direction; "And you, Severus? What news do you offer me? How have you gotten along with the task assigned to you?"

"The brew shall be completed within the week, my Lord. It is in process as we speak and I need only to acquire a…rather rare ingredient to complete it."

"Excellent. Then we should expect to have Regulus returned to us along with his cousin before long." The Dark Lord stood from the stone chair he had transfigured; "If that is all. Lucius, take your assigned and begin the attack on Azkaban. Severus, I trust you will keep me informed of Dumbledore's response."

And, with a flick of the wrist, they were dismissed.

* * *

Severus had avoided Lily completely in the week immediately following the events of Voldemort's return, neither in his office when she attempted to find him and quickly leaving the only other Order meeting they had had before she had a chance to call him back.

However, on the two occasions that they had found themselves in one another's company, he did not seem all that pleased to see her. Although it was different than it had been before, as he was no longer distant. Rather, it seemed, he was outright angry with her.

A tension seeming to simmer beneath the surface.

He ignored her completely when he strode up to Remus that night at the Order meeting, placing a small wooden box down in front of him where he sat at the table.

Lily, sitting next to him, and Sirius, on her other side, both looked around with interest as Remus lifted his head to stare at him with confusion.

Severus only lifted an eyebrow.

Remus cleared his throat and reached down, lifting the lid of the box open with only the pad of his thumb, looking as if he expected a serpent to leap out and attack at any second.

Instead, fourteen large phials of potions sat settled into circle holders.

"Wolfsbane," Remus murmured, an almost reverence in his voice as a finger touched one of the toppers. And then he looked up at Severus with his distrust blatantly evident; "Uh…why?"

"Moony, don't be crazy!" Sirius burst out from Lily's other side; "You can't trust anything he tries to give to you."

"Yes, Black. It is my plan to poison your friend in front of –" Severus indicated with a sweep of the hand across the table "- all these witnesses." The others in the room were peering as surreptitiously as possible at the exchange; Sirius and Severus' animosity being a source of almost entertainment to many.

"What with your assignment to infiltrate the werewolves, I thought such a brew would be welcome," Severus stated, smoothly.

Remus titled his chin up, eyeing him; "And I'm just supposed to believe you decided to offer me it out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Not at all." Severus reached into his robe and pulled out another phial, this one empty; "I shall require an offering of your own, in return." He placed it on the table in front of him.

Remus eyed it.

"Fuck off, Snivellus."

Both ignored Sirius' input.

"Blood?" Remus raised his eyes back to Severus, not needing the other to voice the request; "Why?"

"It is a required ingredient for a potion I am currently working on," Severus stated; "For the Dark Lord."

Remus paled; "Wha - what? _No_!"

"There's your answer, Snape." Sirius leaned over Lily, forcing her to press back in her seat as he put a hand on the box and shoved it back in Severus' direction; "Why don't you go crawling back to your hole –"

"The concoction is a necessary step in the Dark Lord's plans to revive Regulus Black," Severus cut him off. Sirius froze, meeting his eyes. Severus raised an eyebrow; "Should I…stop?"

Sirius glared at Severus with the full force of his hatred.

"Perhaps I shall just do as you suggested and –" Severus reached for the phial; "Return to my 'hole' as you so put it –"

Before Severus could lift it, Remus snatched the phial up from where it sat. With a look shot at Sirius, who had now gone still with rage - not wanting Remus to help Severus in the slightest but also not wanting to impede the recovery of Regulus – Remus lifted his wand and cast the charm, the phial slowly filling with blood.

He replaced the stopper and held it up to Severus, who snatched it and swept away without another word.

And it was only sheer luck that Lily managed to catch up with him following the dismissal of this meeting, when Dumbledore had called him back to stay behind, she waiting patiently for his emergence from the room when their conversation ended.

Dumbledore emerged first, with Severus close on his heels, and both stopped when noticing her.

"Ah, Lily!" Dumbledore smiled, brightly, at her; "Did you wish to speak further about what we discussed last week?"

"Uh, no. Thank you, Professor. I was actually waiting to speak to Sev."

Severus tensed, instantly, though whether due the use of the nickname or her wish to finally talk to him wasn't clear.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Then I shan't keep you." With a nod of farewell, the old wizard left them.

Severus eyed her, uncertainly.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course," Severus shrugged, averting his eyes.

Lily stepped towards him, urging him back into the room they had just been in, and the two faced on another when she clicked the door shut behind them.

"I've been trying to catch you all week."

"I have been occupied. The Dark Lord is keen for me to develop the potion for Regulus and the Foundation has been particularly busy, in light of recent events. While only rumours, the response among the clients has been expectantly panicked –"

"Right. So, how are you? Are you okay? I mean, I know that going back there can't have been easy. It must be…frightening."

Severus pursed his lips together, neither conceding nor denying the claim.

"Has he said anything? About…about the prophecy?"

"No." Severus met her eyes, speaking firmly; "He has expressed no wish to act on it, as yet."

"As yet? Then you expect him to do so, soon?"

"Yes, of course. I don't understand his reasons for delay at the moment, but I have no doubt he will soon express his wish to hunt the Longbottom boy once again. Not that it is going to be much of a hunt, mind you, considering the foolishness of his grandmother in choosing to run rather than to hide."

"What do you think we should do, then, Severus? I…Dumbledore said that we should…wait."

Severus met her eyes, an uneasiness underlying his gaze that only made her own increase; "I…I would advise you to do as Dumbledore says."

"You would? He doesn't want us to do anything."

"He told me that _Black_ –" Lily squinted a little at the unbridled hatred in his tone; "is overseeing the security for your home for the time being. And it is his belief that –"

"I don't want to hear about Dumbledore's beliefs, Sev, I want to hear yours!" Lily interrupted him again, becoming frustrated by his cool demeanour. Surely they were past such pleasantries by now; heavens, they had been all over one another just the week before. And now, _this_?

Severus deflated a little; "I don't know, Lily. And you should know better than to ask me as such. The last thing you ought to be doing is putting decisions regarding the life and death of your family in _my_ hands, considering the track record regarding such."

Lily stepped towards him, taking him by the arms; " _You_ know better than anyone what's going on in Voldemort's head. Why isn't he going after Neville now? Is he…is he watching us?"

Severus snatched his arms back; "Let us hope not." He eyed the windows.

"I didn't mean now, Severus! God, will you just _talk_ to me?"

He ran a hand through his hair and she noticed it shook a little as he lowered it back to his side; "Lily, if we can't trust Dumbledore's judgement then we don't stand a chance. What is it he's telling you to do? You act as if I have all the answers. I know nothing other than what I've already shared with you."

"Well, _that's_ not entirely true, is it?" Lily found herself flaring up; "You knew that Voldemort would be back, didn't you? Even when you were telling me that Harry was safe."

"He is safe. Even with the Dark Lord's return, he has expressed no interest at all in the boy."

"Nor Neville Longbottom either but you seem to think he will. What's to say he won't change his mind again? He was coming after Harry before –"

"He didn't change his mind, Lily. He used your son as a decoy, a distraction, so that the spy he knew was within his ranks – _me –_ would give false information to Dumbledore regarding the threat. And it worked. It was always Longbottom."

"Then why are you so _freaked_?"

"I am not 'freaked', Lily," Severus snapped; "I am simply…tired. And obviously I would express some concern for your wellbeing, considering his previous intentions, but there has been nothing to suggest that –"

"Dumbledore told me the rest of the prophecy."

Severus met her eyes, his interest evident.

Lily nodded; "He told me that Voldemort –" Severus winced; "- that he would _create_ his own rival. That he would seek to find one of them – Harry or Neville – and then make the prophecy come to be."

Severus looked contemplative; "Then we should do nothing to draw interest to your son."

Lily only nodded.

"I suppose that is what Dumbledore suggested?"

"Yes."

Play bluff with the life of my son. The thought made her sick.

Severus was looking at the ground, seeming to mull over the words.

And then he raised his eyes to hers, drawing in a breath and stepping closer.

"At the moment, the only reports the Dark Lord is receiving that in any way relates to the prophecy is those regarding Neville Longbottom," Severus explained to her; "I assume I do not have to tell you that what I'm saying is considered 'top-secret'; Lucius Malfoy told him tonight that the Ministry has been receiving numerous reports of accidental magic regarding the boy – Dumbledore does not wish the Order to know this - and the Dark Lord is aware that the boy's grandmother has fled. He seemed…disinterested but, then, he seems disinterested in general at the moment. Almost…lazy. Probably because he already knows exactly where the Longbottoms are at this very moment."

Lily frowned, as she contemplated the information.

"I have already told you too much," Severus went on, "Just by saying that much to you. And I do it only as a means to reassure you, which goes without saying is a very stupid reason for me to do so. I'm a spy, Lily, and I know you know what that means. There are some things I can't say. Things you can't know. Just as much for your own safety as my own."

Lily looked up at him.

"I…I didn't mean to keep his return from you. I know that I…disappointed you in doing so. Events surrounding it began before you and I had reached this level of understanding, although I probably would have kept it from you regardless. But, believe me, even that indiscretion will be miniscule in the grander scheme of things. There are worse things I can't tell you," he made to pass by her; "For that reason –"

"Don't even think about it, Sev." She grabbed his arm, as he made to walk by her; "We're well past _that_ by now."

"Lily," he spoke her name in a sigh.

* * *

So many emotions at once seemed to rage within him as he looked at her. So many wishes, desires and impulses.

And he wanted nothing more than to just hold her and shelter her from this shitstorm that _he_ had brought down up her years before, when he had delivered the prophecy in the first place.

Nonetheless, a measure of control was needed.

And it was not only the desire to protect her that plagued him.

Severus was…irked by her. And it had come on so unexpectedly, so suddenly, the previous week that it had taken him by surprise.

Lily had married James Potter and that, alone, for the past several years had created more than just a little bit of resentment within him. And he knew of her closeness to Lupin and how Black had raised her son alongside her since the loss of the boy's father. Yet, the reality of it had never been more clear to him than when sitting in the Order meeting the first time – and the two times since – during which she had sat opposite him, flanked by two of the four men who had made his life a living hell for the seven years that they had been at Hogwarts.

It more than rankled, it made him downright furious.

The fact that he had no right to feel so only served to irritate him further.

And Black's constant attempts at provoking his fury did nothing to stem the tide.

Now, though, he was weak before her. As he always was.

Wanting nothing more than to just _melt_ and it was just as infuriating and embarrassing as ever, that someone, even Lily, should have that much power of him.

The memory of their kiss haunted him.

She was talking. Talking about Dumbledore. About the Dark Lord. About her son.

Fretting and frantic because _he_ had revealed the prophecy to her.

Another foolish action made by him. It seemed every decision he ever made always led to some distress for her; he could never do right.

And, as such, the idea that she should come to him and ask him to make the decision for her over the path to choose regarding her son's life – well, the very notion was just _absurd_!

Whatever he advised, surely the opposite would happen.

"Lily." He silenced her with a hand to her arm.

Lily seemed to lean into the touch, as if she needed it, and he felt his stomach tighten.

"For now, Dumbledore is the boy's best chance."

Lily drew in a breath, seeking to calm herself, and then she nodded; "Okay."

Severus allowed his hand to linger, fingers moving slowly against the fabric of her robes, keen to touch, and then he caught himself and let his arm fall back to his side.

Concerned eyes met his; "How are you, Sev? Really? What Dumbledore's asking you to do…it's dangerous." She spoke needless words, waiting for no response as they weren't necessary; "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

Lily shook her head, brow coming down; "I remember how it was before. With Remus. He spied for Dumbledore the last time. He's going under again this time too. He's…afraid."

"I am not afraid, Lily," Severus lied, averting his eyes; "I have been preparing for this for a long time."

Lily stepped closer, too close, taking his hand; "Okay. Fine. You're not afraid," she rolled her eyes, a slight smile on her lips that told him she knew he wasn't being honest and was too proud to admit it; "But I'm here. Okay?"

No. That was _not_ okay.

Severus made to draw back, but her hand only tightened around his.

"You know, you shouldn't let him get to you. Sirius."

Severus automatically tensed, meeting her eyes.

"I know he's being a real ass about the whole thing –"

"I'd expect nothing less."

Lily gave a little shrug; "He's just as worried as the rest of us. He's scared too."

"He contributes nothing at all of use to the Order. He is a loose cannon and, as such, a liability. Not to mention, an idiot."

Lily tried to glare at him, though the twitch of her lips belied her amusement at his assessment; "He's not _that_ bad, Sev."

"He attempts to provoke me at every turn. Need I remind you that he drew his wand first, last week?"

"Oh, and you did nothing to provoke him?" There was a teasing glint in her eye but the underlying accusation still gnawed at him. And, considering his continuing resentment at seeing her aligned with two of the damn _Marauders_ for the past week, the mere implication of her defending _any_ of their actions against him made his blood boil. Least of all _Black's._

"Besides breathe, Lily?"

"I heard what you said to him. About James."

Severus snatched his hand back from hers.

"Spare me the vindications. Black's theatrics began long before I made mention of _Potter_."

Severus didn't hold back the loathing as he spoke the name, twelve months of skirting around the topic of her choice of husband finally reaching its limit, and Lily flinched.

"Severus –"

"I mean it, Lily. Don't look to me for apologies. My opinion of that man was assured long before your ungodly marriage took place and do not expect me to speak of his life with sudden reverence just because you saw fit to invite that swine into your bed!"

Lily's eyes narrowed; "Watch it, Severus."

"Surely you didn't expect anything else? Polite avoidance of a subject doesn't negate the matter and I assure you, Lily, I haven't forgotten it."

"You're the one who said to leave the past in the past. I tried to talk about it before and you didn't want to hear it."

"I didn't want to hear your excuses."

"Ex -my _excuses!"_ She repeated, incredulously; "You can't be serious! I don't need to _excuse_ anything."

She was right, of course. She owed him nothing. Hadn't then and certainly didn't now.

Severus was the one who had screwed everything up.

Still.

" _James Potter_. Lily – surely you could have done better?"

Lily tilted her chin upwards, defiantly; "You didn't know him the way I did."

"That's a given. And I'm pretty sure that even someone as naïve as yourself wouldn't have stuck around for any length of time if you had known your husband the way that _I_ had known him."

His accent was coming through, surprising even himself with the loss of grip.

"Severus, the way I felt about him was completely different from the way I felt about you."

_Believe me, Lily, I was aware of that._

"Considering this took place following our own severance then I could easily come to that conclusion myself."

"You know what I mean! I didn't set out to hurt you, it just…we just happened, alright?"

"Say no more. I've recently eaten."

"Stop it."

Severus knew he was glaring at her and he knew he wasn't being fair. But, hell, fairness hardly came into play when one considered that Potter, of all people, should have managed to secure any sort of notice from someone like Lily in the first place.

"We were children, Sev. We grew up. Childish pranks –"

"Pranks, you call it? If the pupils in my House treated other students as such, even blasted Gryffindors, I would have them expelled instantly. Particularly if said _pranks_ involved feeding one another to _werewolves_."

Lily pursed her lips together; "You never told me about that."

"No. For I was sworn to secrecy by the Grand Protector of Gryffindors, himself. Though I doubt you would have believed anything I had to say about it anyway; it would not have been the first time I had come to you regarding Lupin's…condition."

Lily deflated and shook her head; "Sev. Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Don't make issue of things we've already put to rest. All to push me away because you're afraid of what's happening between us."

Severus was taken aback by the statement. First of all, nothing had been 'put to rest', as she so put it. This had simmered within him for _years_ and he doubted he would ever really get over it. Lily with Potter. Black sending him to that shack to die.

Secondly, she spoke as if what was happening between them was…inevitable. Which could not be the case. Although it now left little doubt in his mind as to _her_ intentions regarding their relationship. While such a thought sent his heart soaring, that there was a chance of _them_ actually happening – particularly in light of this very recent outburst – his head kept him grounded. Lily wanting it, though a scenario he rarely allowed his mind to entertain for it had been so improbable to him for so long, did not mean that it should happen.

It couldn't.

"Sev."

He met her eyes.

"None of us are innocent."

Didn't he know it.

And the previous anger that had boiled within him faded away, in its place leaving only shame.

For all the charges he could lay at Lily's door, they were ludicrously miniscule, a drop in the ocean in comparison to the crimes _he_ had committed since they had parted ways. And, to make it worse, many of said crimes very directly affected her life.

All he had to do was watch her fall in love with another man.

Severus had almost gotten Lily _killed_.

It was he who had chosen the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, and he who had delivered the prophecy that endangered her family; even now, when it seemed that another child may have to bear the burden, they could not be sure that Lily and the boy were out of harm's way.

And it was he who had convinced Eugene Hopkins the year before, in an impulsive act driven by his own inability to control himself with regards to her, to take Lily on as the Healer Fellow when her application, underqualified and too emotionally involved, in no way warranted such consideration. Instantly bringing her under the suspicion of _another_ madman; as if the first one was not enough!

It seemed Black was not the only idiot in Lily's life.

Lily had positively _surrounded_ herself with them.

Severus turned away from her, abruptly.

Unable to look into the eyes that were regarding him with so much affection, expressing so much _trust_ in him that guilt flared up alongside the shame.

Lily followed, her hand on his arm, turning him to face her; "Sev." He met her eyes; "Stop this." Her voice was quiet and she was looking at him like she just _knew_ what he was thinking, what was going on in his mind. And the hand that touched him tightened, comforting pressure against his arm.

He was becoming overcome, once again, by his feelings for her. He, who had worked so hard for years to develop control, mastering it finally so that he could face the Dark Lord once again, crumbling under her touch, her eyes, her faith in him.

Severus drew in a breath; "The Dark Lord will not harm you, Lily. I swear it." His voice came out husky, quiet, and he was alarmed at the need, the desire it expressed.

Lily, on the other hand, did not look alarmed in the slightest; instead, stared straight back at him as if captivated by the intensity by which he spoke.

And then she released his arm, both hands then coming up to side of his neck, drawing him down and pressing her lips to his.

It surprised him now as much as it had done the first time but, at least in this instance, he was not struck so dumb that he was unable to respond.

His hands came up and gripped her waist as his lips parted beneath hers, allowing the access she sought, this kiss more desperate than before, as her hands slipped back, arms coming up to wrap around his neck in their place and, suddenly, every inch of her was against him.

She clung to him as if he were a lifeline. Lips parting and moving against his, as she deepened the kiss.

He savoured it, his hands slipping from her waist to her back, sliding up; pulling her closer and tighter against him, before a hand tangled in her hair.

Forgetting himself for a moment.

Merlin, he wished he could.

Reality prickled at the edge of his consciousness.

For the life of him, he didn't know how he managed it. How he found the strength to move both hands to her shoulders, taking them tight, and pulled her from him, breaking the kiss.

The black of her pupils had bled out into the green, her want evident and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

"We can't do this, Lily." His voice was quiet, with that same embarrassingly husky timbre to it that made him self-conscious, tilting his chin downwards; "It is not…sensible."

"Sensible?" Lily was suddenly smiling and she looked more beautiful than ever, his self-control wilting and he forced himself to lower his eyes just so he didn't have to look at the sparkle within hers.

"Sev, it's okay. I get it. You're a spy. There's things you have to keep from me –"

"That's not it."

"Well, what then?"

"Many things." He was regaining his composure, conversation dulling the yearning he fought; "Not the least of which –" he drew further away as he spoke, so that, at least, their bodies were not pressed so close; "-is that _I_ am a Death Eater and _you_ are potentially one of his hunted."

"Nope. That one doesn't fly. You're nota _Death Eater_ , Severus, you're a spy. There's a difference. And if you can keep _that_ a secret from him, then I'm pretty sure being like this with me isn't going to be what concerns him if your cover should ever fail."

"You speak sense. But it's _your_ safety I'm concerned about."

Lily's eyes flashed, her playfulness dimming; "I won't live my life in fear from him, Sev. I've already wasted too much of it because of that…monster."

"He's not the only monster out there," Severus stated, his hands that had had her by the shoulders slipping down her arms, resting there instead; "I'm sure you know why Evelyn Redway was killed."

Lily's eyes softened somewhat. She nodded.

"It is only a matter of time before news of my involvement with the Death Eaters becomes widespread; I'm surprised Black hasn't leaked it already –"

"I can tell him to –"

"No. You will speak of this to _no one."_

The spark in Lily's eyes was dimming as he spoke and he hated himself for it. For this.

Here was Lily before him, offering everything he had ever wanted since before he could even remember, and he was turning her away. Why? Because, surprise, surprise, he had fucked everything up. As always.

"Once Eugene Hopkins learns that I was a Death Eater, and I'm sure he already had an idea of it, then anyone involved with me – thankfully, that is no one – comes under very real danger. More so, even, than from the Dark Lord, as the Dark Lord does not seem interested in punishing me for anything at the moment – although even _that_ could change within a second."

"Sev –"

"Once Hopkins hears of it; he will undoubtedly strike. Especially considering Regulus' revival is imminent. He won't be forgiving me that indiscretion any time soon, after he's spent so long planning his demise. And there is no way I am risking _you_ being the collateral damage of my mistakes."

Lily's eyes had darkened, not with desire this time, but with indignation; "Are you serious, Sev? You've just told me to take Dumbledore's advice and play bluff with _my_ _son's_ _life_ and not to let my decision be ruled by fear and now you're telling me that we can't be together out of fear for _mine?"_

Severus pursed his lips together.

"Not good enough."

"It is for me. I have no one in my own life to measure my limits by, as you do by your son's. Your safety is it. You can't seriously expect me to put you in danger, knowingly, Lily, when you know the whole reason I turned from the Death Eaters in the first place was because of the threat to _you_."

"Actually, I didn't know that. You never said. I was just left to guess."

"Ah. Here we go. Another accusation of secrecy, which only proves my point. Even if you were not in danger by association, there is no way I could ever be what you wish me to be. I cannot be…" _Potter; "_ I cannot be open with you, Lily."

"I don't want you to _be_ anything, Severus, but yourself. _This._ " She tightened her hold on his shoulders.

Severus closed his eyes; "No. We can't."

"Sev –"

"Lily, my resolve is set. Do not try to badger me into breaking it."

Lily snatched her hands back, looking furious and more than a little offended; "Forgive me for trying to do so."

Severus closed his eyes, sighing; "That…is not what I meant. I'm merely trying to explain…it is not possible for us…it is…"

He was becoming flustered, becoming the same bumbling boy he would always become in her presence when they were younger, when his crush rendered him a blushing little fool under her gaze.

Lily was looking at him, now, with so many emotions flittering across her expression. Affection. Indignation. Disappointment. Want.

"Lily," his voice softened, and he stepped towards her once again, taking her hand; allowing himself that. Who knew when he'd be able to do so again, after this; "I don't mean to…offend you. Or..."

Hurt you? That seemed a bit over the top. Lily would easily find someone else to fill the role he was now denying.

"I cannot play loose with your life, Lily. Not for something that is, undoubtedly, for my own benefit. I'm sorry."

"What if I don't care?" Lily was looking right at him, her own resolve evident; "He probably already suspects something, anyway. If Hopkins wants to come after me, let him. It's not like we don't know he'd try it."

"Don't be foolish!"

"Foolish? Dumbledore's right, we can't let our decisions be driven by fear."

"Dumbledore was not talking about _this,_ Lily! I'm sure if we went before him now to ask his counsel, he'd tell you to run far _, far away_ from me."

"Well. Good thing I don't trust everything Dumbledore says."

Severus released an exasperated breath.

"You are being impossible!"

"As always?"

"Yes!"

Lily's lips twitched in a smile. An adorable one.

Severus looked away. No. He would not fall for this. He would not fall any deeper.

This had to stop.

Now.

"I know you want to, Sev."

"What I want is irrelevant," Severus stated, for that was always the case; "Stop, Lily. All we are doing here is going round in circles. You may not care how Hopkins, or even the Dark Lord, would react, but I do. _I_ care, Lily."

Lily eyes softened, her gaze flitting over his face.

Severus stepped in close, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead, drawing in a breath, breathing her in as he felt her soft skin beneath them. He felt foolishly brave as he did so, for he had never expressed himself physically to her before, even if this was tiny in comparison to the way Lily had just expressed her own feelings.

Lily's eyes looked up at him, a sadness in them, when he drew back.

He turned sharply, walking from the room, leaving her with his words, his explanations.

And his refusal.


	28. October 1987: Your Loyalties are Showing

It was easy to avoid thinking about Lily in the aftermath of what had happened.

Azkaban had been infiltrated that same night and, with it, came the return of Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers, who had been quickly given assignment and sent off, along with Lucius Malfoy.

It was the first indication that something, _anything,_ was actually on the Dark Lord's mind, other than the planned revival of Regulus.

The Ministry responded feebly to the breakout; a press release and a reassertion of the forbidden nature of the Dark Arts, the Unforgivables, along with a declaration that those responsible would suffer the "full consequences of the law". It was laughable. Surely they knew who was responsible?

Though no further action was taken on either side and Dumbledore, following Severus' warning that the prison was soon to be infiltrated, deemed the release of the three Death Eaters a small sacrifice to maintain the cover of the spy – himself – and did nothing to alert the Ministry of the impending onslaught.

Both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord were carefully moving their pawns across the board, neither revealing their true intentions, even to their own followers.

But there was no time to dwell on such things. Severus knew better than to waste time brooding over things over which he had no control and drowning oneself in self-pity over the deplorable fact that he was a pawn to _both_ wizards was just as impractical, serving no one any good.

After all, the Dark Lord had given him a more than agreeable first assignment.

And, tonight, the fruits of his efforts would be reaped; the curse on Regulus would finally be lifted, all going well.

"Ah, Bellatrix. Lucius." The Dark Lord greeted them as they stepped into the mausoleum. They dropped to their knees, giving him the customary greeting; a murmur of 'my Lord', a kiss to the hem.

Hushed conversation took place which Severus did not hear, as he prepared the area for the ritual about to take place.

Regulus' form lay atop of a nearby tomb; ghostly white, blue lips and eyelids contrasting startlingly with the white of his skin.

"Little cousin!" Bellatrix purred, as she circled his form; "Poor little Regulus."

"Severus." Impatience, the first time he had heard it in his tone since his return, was evident when the Dark Lord addressed him; "Shall we proceed."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus dipped his head, before going to retrieve the potion, Regulus' body.

Lucius assisted him - Regulus was deadweight in his arms and he didn't think the Dark Lord would appreciate him slinging his prize over his shoulder in a fireman's lift – and the two laid him on the ground, the circle of Death Eaters present circling at respectable distance, as the Dark Lord approached.

Severus poured the brew into a goblet; lifting his wand to heat it. Leaving it to bubble as he returned to Regulus' form, the goblet remaining in his hand, until he knelt and placed it on the ground, lifting Regulus' hand and, with a quick flick of his wand against the flesh, made a slice across the palm.

Severus curled it into a fist, holding Regulus' hand over the goblet; allowed the blood to flow and trickle into the potion for several moments, as those in the room watched with keen interest.

And then, enough, Severus drew back. He cast a quick healing charm, to seal the wound, and heard a derisive sound, almost a laugh, from over his shoulder; the Dark Lord's amusement at his weakness. Under normal circumstances, another Death Eater, they would simply be left to bleed.

Severus pretended not to hear, stood and turned to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord stared back at him and Severus felt his nerve waver; they had already discussed the process, that his Master's blood would need to be added to the brew, also, if he were to be granted the power to lift the magic. Once the blood of that upon whom the spell had been cast had been offered.

"Does the blood need to be fresh from the vein, Severus?"

Severus was thrown by the question but forced himself to maintain his calm demeanour; "It is not necessary, my Lord." Though it would be more practical, under the circumstances, considering the ritual had already begun and the Dark Lord's veins were _right there_ and Severus doubted he had a collection of his own blood held in phials in his robes.

He voiced no such thoughts.

And was thrown when the Dark Lord held out a hand and a phial of, what appeared to be blood, _was_ placed into his hand by Lucius.

The Dark Lord popped off the stopper with his thumb, sending it flying across the room, and turned the phial, allowing every last drop to fall into the goblet, before he released it and let it fall to the ground with a smash.

Severus did not openly roll his eyes at the over-dramatics; he just imagined doing it.

Then, to Severus' confusion, the Dark Lord held up a hand, wielded his wand as if it were a sword, and made a quick slice across his palm; clenched it into a fist and allowed his own blood to trickle into the goblet.

 _That_ threw him even more.

If the phial had not contained the Dark Lord's blood, then who's had it been?

There was no time to contemplate.

The potion was ready.

The Dark Lord held the goblet out to Pettigrew, his own personal lab rat, who took a small sip; and all waited, patiently, for the customary two minutes. Though everyone within the room knew it was pointless. As if Severus Snape would attempt to _poison_ their Lord; such a thing was incomprehensible.

And, finally, they were ready to begin.

The Dark Lord lifted the goblet to his lips; eyes on Severus' as he slowly swallowed and Severus forced himself to maintain the gaze, even while his nerves threatened to get the better of him. And then Severus lifted his wand as the Dark Lord lowered the goblet, speaking the incantation, the spell.

The Dark Lord's eyes closed and when they opened, the redness was gone; replaced by pure black that filled the entirety of his eye cavity and Severus' heard the muffled gasps of others within the room.

Severus did not react.

Three slow blinks, and the red eyes were back. And then, a slow, sinister smirk spread across his Master's face, before he turned and took the two steps to Regulus' side; lowered himself to a crouch. A hand was held over Regulus' face.

Muttered words, almost murmurs, spoken with seeming reverence.

Severus held his breath; watched as Regulus twitched beneath the Dark Lord's hand. Eyelids fluttering.

And then, slowly, they opened.

Their eyes almost met, but Regulus seemed unseeing; eyelids finally fully open but eyeballs followed; rolling back into his head. And, as they did, his neck arched back, his body mirroring it, so that he rose up off of the cold ground.

Severus frowned.

And Regulus screamed.

* * *

"Snape."

"Should I assume you intercepted my message to Lily, then, Black?"

"My brother, right? Figured I'd come and see how he was doing."

"Did it happen to cross your, rather feeble, mind that I sent for Lily for a reason? That perhaps, after being under the effects of a _blood curse_ for the past two months, that your brother might just be in need of a _healer_?"

A smash drew Snape's attention from Sirius to somewhere off to the side. He made a backwards step, glancing back at him with distain, before he turned and walked off in the direction of the commotion, leaving the door open; an invitation, Sirius assumed, and he stepped inside, following Snape's footsteps down into a room down the hall.

Sirius was almost knocked from his feet when Regulus' suddenly swept past him, as he stepped over the threshold.

His brother didn't look at him but acknowledged him with words; swift, frantic conversation during which he barely drew breath.

"Oh. Oh look. My brother's here. My brother. Oh well, hell – isn't that just great? That's….I mean, that's just fan- _fucking_ -tastic, right Sev?"

Regulus was pacing, head moving rapidly from side to side as he moved and carried on muttering under his breath.

"I think it was here…I think…I don't remember…where is it, Sev?"

Snape was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Regulus with unconcealed concern.

He met Sirius' eyes without moving an inch.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since the agonised screaming ceased some hours ago."

"Shouldn't he be in St Mungo's?"

"Excellent suggestion, Black, your input is as invaluable as ever. Thank you."

"Yes. Yes, thank you, big brother!" Regulus suddenly chimed in, as if just noticing him again, even if he carried on darting about; "You couldn't have come at a better time –"

"As you see, your brother is hardly in a fit state to be expected to demonstrate any semblance of restraint; after the pain subsided and developed into this erratic display, he began raving about Death Eaters and the war, among other things. Of course, I thought it best to remove him from the company of the general public, for even if the healers at St Mungo's were able to restore his sanity –" Snape eyed Regulus, who was still muttering away to himself, dragging a hand through his hair; "that would mean little, when he would soon find himself locked up in Azkaban where said sanity would be taken from him once again by the Dementors."

"Pretty much everyone knows Reg was a Death Eater –"

"Nevertheless, that was never proven."

"Dumbledore would vouch for his defection."

"I feared even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to save him upon hearing some of the confessions your brother thought fit to express. He was…quite detailed."

Sirius was silent in light of the implications.

"Did any of them say they'd be contacting the authorities?"

Snape shot him a look; "I have dealt with it."

"What do you mean 'you've dealt with it?' What did you do?"

"I saw to it that they wouldn't be alerting the authorities."

Sirius stared at him; allowed his loathing to seep into the gaze.

Snape's eyes lifted heavenward; "I _obliviated_ them."

The ' _you idiot'_ went unsaid.

"Oh…oh hey. Look, Sev." Regulus was suddenly right in front of Sirius, staring him right in the eyes, the glint in his own almost demented; "My brother's here."

"Yes. So you said."

"Well. What an _honour._ " The previously erratic manner in which Regulus was speaking suddenly gave way to a biting sarcasm; "This…hell…this calls for a _drink."_

Regulus swept away in the direction of the cabinet and Sirius heard Snape draw in a deep breath, before he stepped closer to Sirius, a phial clutched in his hand; "He needs to take this."

Sirius eyed it; "What is it?"

Snape didn't get a chance to answer, Regulus suddenly back in front of them both, thrusting a full glass of firewhiskey into each of their hands; "Wait. Wait, a toast." He spun on his heel, walking swiftly back to the cabinet, lifting the third glass he had left on the woodwork and turning to face them; "A toast to our honoured guest!"

Regulus lifted his glass higher, eyes boring right into Sirius', his voice equal parts ironic and biting;

"Toujous pur, big brother."

The words, the menacing glint in his little brother's eyes, sent a chill right to the bone.

Sirius couldn't look away. Caught in the headlights of his brother's hate.

And then Regulus' expression crumbled, suddenly tortured, and he swung his arm, the glass of firewhiskey released and sent flying across the room, smashing against the wall and making him and Snape flinch.

"I think you'd better go." Snape stepped in front of him, taking Sirius roughly by the arm.

Sirius snatched it back, shooting him a glare; "Don't fucking touch me, Snape! I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh. Oh sure! _Now_ you're not going anywhere. Now you're not…now you're not…now you stay…"

"You're making him worse," Snape hissed.

Sirius pushed past Snape, shoving the glass he held into the other man's hand and walking right up to Regulus, who flinched back when he noticed him there, right in front of him, and Sirius grabbed him by the arms, holding him still; "That's right. _Now_ I stay."

Regulus' breathing was uneven, harsh as he met his eyes.

"I get it, Reg. Okay? I know what happened. I know it was them. It wasn't your fault, alright?"

Regulus' eyes darted back and forth between his; frenzied, wild.

"Don't do this to yourself. You're not that person. Look at you now. Look at all you've done. I'm so proud –"

A harsh sound escaped Regulus' lips, cutting him off.

" _Proud?_ " Regulus repeated, the word rasped out. And then he laughed.

Laughed long and hard and manically, without any humour in it whatsoever, and it was horrible to hear. Inhuman.

Sirius met Snape's eyes once again, and the other man only stared back at him, with a look that told Sirius he knew what exactly was coming.

Regulus stepped in close, drawing Sirius' eyes back to his, his voice harsh and low; "Do you have any _idea_ the things that I've _done_?"

Sirius held his look.

"I've destroyed people, big brother. I've destroyed _lives._ I've taken _husbands_ from their _wives_ and _mothers_ from their _children_."

"Reg -"

"You get a choice, you know. When you join him. You get to choose; just one choice. It's you or them. Life or death. And, hell, we were sixteen and who chooses to _die_? So you pick yourself. And, you know what, what does it matter – they're only mudbloods, right?"

Snape pressed a hand to his forehead, chin low and eyes shut, as Regulus went on.

"And you get to live."

Regulus shook his head, eyes glistening now, his voice a whisper; "But how _can_ you live?"

Sirius could only stare; rendered silent by the raw pain in his brother's eyes as he looked up at him.

Regulus drew in a shaky breath, his voice steadying but still harsh when he spoke; " _Don't_ look at me and tell me that you're proud."

Regulus made to push past him but Sirius held on tight to his arms, forcing him to look at him; "Fine. Well, how about this then?"

Regulus met his eyes.

"I still love you, little brother."

Eyes flitted back and forth between his once again, his brother's breaths coming uneven, quick.

And then the familiar grey eyes glistened, Regulus' expression crumbling once more and he hung his head. A quiet gasp escaped him. And then a sob.

Sirius stepped in closer, pulling Regulus to him, and his brother grasped at him as another sob came. Another. His body shaking as Sirius held him tight; holding him as he wept.

Sirius raised his eyes at the sound of the door clicking shut. Realised Snape had left them now, alone in the room, the little phial the other man had been holding now sitting on top of the mantle.

Sirius used his wand to summon it, catching it and drawing back, easily encouraging Regulus to take it, before he held him tight once more. Held him through his tears until, soon after, the sobbing ceased and his brother's form went still and limp in his arms with sleep.

* * *

Harsh sunlight made him flinch and squint when his eyes opened.

Regulus took in his surroundings, slowly, in a room he didn't recognise. But some of the things within it, he did. There was the picture of himself and Malachi on the wall, the one from his room at Newton's. A Slytherin banner hung down next to the mirror. A bookcase filled with titles he recognised.

The oh-so-familiar sound of paper rustling was at his side and he knew before his eyes drifted in its direction who it would be; Severus turning the page of a book, eyes focused on the pages, sitting in a chair next to him.

Regulus glanced down, realised he was in bed, and, slowly, the memories began to return to him.

He drew in a silent breath, feeling the burn of mortification, before glancing back at Severus, who remained engrossed in whatever it was he was reading; "You got suicide watch, did you?"

It came out as more of a croak than the cocky 'look-who's-back' announcement he was going for.

Nevermind.

Severus' eyes ceased to move. And then an eyebrow raised and he glanced at him.

Regulus gave him a sheepish smile.

Severus curled the palm of his hand, the book snapping shut, as he turned his attention to him; "Feeling better?"

"Mm."

The two of them looked at one another for a second.

"Please tell me it was a dream."

Severus' lips twitched; "I think ' _nightmare'_ may be a more appropriate description." He leaned over, placing the book he had been reading on the side table.

Regulus closed his eyes and groaned, feeling his mortification increase tenfold.

"You remember everything, I presume?" Severus went on.

"You should have…hexed me or something."

"And miss out on such a heartfelt display? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Is he gone?"

"He went to collect Malachi."

"Malachi?" Regulus looked at him more sharply; "Is he…where is he?"

"The boy is fine. He is at the Learning Centre."

Regulus nodded, slowly, feeling a sharp pain shoot through his skull at the movement. He groaned a little, sinking back further into the pillows; he felt as if he had been hit by a bludger. _Several_ bludgers.

A wave of nausea overtook him suddenly and he quickly turned to the side, away from Severus, as he vomited onto the floorboards.

Merlin, this was embarrassing.

He'd wept in his brothers arms like a child – and he didn't know if he was more embarrassed about Sirius being there or Severus, in that case – and now he was invalid to Severus' nursemaid.

Severus flicked his wand and the mess was gone.

"Describe your symptoms."

"Uh…almost dying?"

Severus smirked. And then his expression softened.

Regulus released a puff of air, a small laugh; "Missed you too, Sev."

"Is there pain?" Severus ignored him.

Regulus stifled a groan as he pushed himself up by the elbows, attempting to upright himself somewhat; "Just…a bit."

"Is there –"

"What happened?"

Severus looked at him, hesitantly. Then he glanced away; "Under the circumstances, it is probably best we wait until you are more recovered before getting into the details."

"The Dark Lord is back."

Silence.

"Yes."

"I…remember. He was there."

"Yes. He lifted the curse."

"Curse?"

"The one placed upon you. By…your pursuer."

The memories of that were fuzzier than the ones he had of the night before; of the Dark Lord above him as he screamed and writhed in agony, before Lucius and Severus had quickly come to his side, holding him down in an attempt to restrain him. He remembered being at St Mungo's; the look of terror in a young medinurse's eyes as he had told her she reminded him of someone he had watched die.

Die.

Death.

He remembered the Foundation.

The feel of something hitting him; taking root and coiling and teeming within him. Before blackness.

Before that; Andie in the office.

Regulus looked at Severus, sharply; "Andie. Did…the Foundation. What happened?"

"Regulus –"

"Just tell me."

Severus was looking at him guardedly, and Regulus thought he caught grief in the other man's eyes, which only served to increase his anxiety. Something had happened. Something bad.

Severus drew in a breath; "There was an attack. An artefact sent to you under the guise of a package; said artefact contained a curse. A blood curse. It was powerful; it has been some months since it happened. You have been under a protective charm since in order to prevent the spread. Last night, the Dark Lord lifted it."

"Okay. But what about the Foundation? I remember a bit. It happened there. But I didn't open any pack –" He froze. The memory clearing; yes, there had been a package. It had come right as he was leaving the office; Andromeda had been in there. Andie and Elena.

He drew in a slow breath, one that shuddered, and when he looked in Severus' direction he knew that he didn't have to ask; Severus knew the question and Regulus knew the answer.

But he asked anyway.

Severus shook his head, glancing away; "The curse itself was powerful enough that those within the immediate vicinity when it was unleashed did not survive. It left a mark in the building, a lingering of the magic; the curse was activated with Black blood. Your cousin…" Severus met his eyes, confirming the answer Regulus dreaded; "And targeted all others who should come into contact with it. Yourself."

"Malachi?"

"He was not close enough for it to bind. Nor was Narcissa, nor your brother."

Regulus stared at him; the reality of it, the horror, slowly building up within him. Someone had targeted his entire family, had tried to kill them all, because of him. Because of what he had done.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, turning away.

Willed himself not to break once more.

"How many dead?"

"Six. Your cousin. Elena Fitzherbet. Alaric Waller. Rowan Ellison. Two clients; the Bushmore's boys."

Regulus ground his teeth, felt tears prickle but wouldn't let them fall. Would wait until he was _alone_ this time.

He drew in a breath, glancing at Severus; "Was it the same people as before? Did they catch them?"

Severus averted his eyes so suddenly that he knew the other was holding something back.

Regulus' eyes narrowed; "Who was it?"

Severus knew. He knew who attacked the Foundation. He knew who had killed Evelyn; who had tried to kill his son.

Severus met his eyes, jaw set; "Eugene Hopkins."

Regulus could only stare.

Silence descended as he attempted to process it. Eugene had killed Evelyn. Eugene had killed Andromeda, Rowan, Alaric; people who he had worked with, _closely with,_ for the past five years. Rowan had been his own apprentice.

And all had been innocent.

And _Eugene._ It was preposterous; such a fact, the act committed, could barely be reconciled with the boisterous, friendly older man who had guided them, _him_ , for all these years.

One look at Severus and Regulus knew he felt the same. Betrayed. And yet…deserved.

The blood of the innocent, those Eugene had killed, were on his hands as much as the others.

Regulus pushed aside the thought. Another meltdown in front of Severus would do no good and he was certain that to do so would only make things worse; the last thing he wanted was to force Severus to become another 'shoulder', as his brother had been so eager to provide the previous evening.

"Did they catch him?"

"No. He is still at large."

"Right." Regulus pushed the information aside; "And the Dark Lord?"

"Until last night, seemed only interested in your safe return."

Regulus looked at him in bewilderment; bewilderment that was evidently shared.

"He is…more discreet than he had been previously. Guarded."

Severus went on to explain the particulars; secret assignments dished out amongst them, none of them shared with the others until the outcome had been reached. Karkaroff and Mossburn executed. Severus' potion to lift the Blood Curse. Lucius and Bellatrix presenting the Dark Lord with a vial of blood.

On and on as the uneasiness increased; both of them aware that something had changed within their Master.

The Dark Lord had been brilliant, cunning, powerful before.

This time, though, he had returned reserved; cautious.

Agenda unclear but most certainly there; hidden.

Something bigger, something sinister lurking in the shadows.

And it was only a matter of time before it struck.

* * *

Malachi peered around the door to his dad's bedroom.

His dad's eyes lit up right away at seeing him, shooting him a bright smile; "Hey, Beansprout!"

Malachi came into the room, eyeing him carefully - making sure he was really alright, like his Uncle Sirius had said - and, when his dad chuckled, holding out his arms to him, Malachi smiled widely and hurried up to the bed, climbing up beside him.

He looked at him at little bit shyly, not hugging him yet, and his dad raised an eyebrow; "Get in here, Son."

Malachi giggled, wrapping his arms around his dad, gently, and closed his eyes in relief, as his dad pressed a kiss to his head.

"You alright?" his dad murmured into his hair.

Malachi nodded, still held in his dad's arms, "Uh huh. Severus has been looking after me."

"I know. Done a good job, has he?"

Malachi nodded - he'd never be silly enough to say Severus was bad at anything - and then he drew back, eye wide and sparkling; "And Uncle Sirius too! I got to stay with him two times."

"Is that right?"

"Yes! For more than one night. Harry was there too."

"Bet you two got up to a fat load of mischief under Sirius' influence," his dad ruffled his hair, smiling warmly.

"Yeah. He's the best."

His dad just smiled, looking at him with lots of love in his eyes, that made Malachi duck his head, shyly, giving his dad another smile.

"But I'm really happy you're awake now."

His dad chuckled, dipping his chin to look at him.

"And I am _very_ happy to see you, Son."

Malachi shuffled in closer, before he asked, hesitantly.

"Can I still see Uncle Sirius sometimes? Even though you're awake?" Malachi looked at him, hopefully.

His dad looked at him for a minute. Just looked at him, like he was thinking really hard.

And then he smiled, nodding his head.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we could sort something out."

Malachi smiled, delightedly, while his dad gave him another hug.

* * *

"I thought it best I visit, prior to Narcissa. Ensure there is no lingering threat. Though my wife has been persistent, as you can imagine."

"As Bellatrix Lestrange experienced no side effects from the exposure, I imagine it would be safe for Narcissa to visit, should the occasion arise," Severus stated, as they stepped from the stairs into the living room.

"Would residual madness as a side-effect even be noticed in such a case?"

Severus smirked.

Lucius eyed the lodgings with undisguised disgust; "Surely you can have found better accommodations than this?"

Severus glanced around the house he had rented in Regulus' absence; not having the authority to sell Newton's while the other man had been alive and yet not, forcing him to postpone the sale and purchase of new lodgings. And to stay there was unthinkable with Hopkins on the loose.

This place, though, wasn't so bad. Severus had certainly lived in much worse – Spinner's End, for example – though he supposed the humble cottage he had found paled in comparison to Malfoy Manor.

"It will do."

Lucius sniffed, looking down his nose at the room once again, before beginning to head for the door.

"Lucius."

The other man turned to look at him, at the questioning in Severus' voice.

He shouldn't ask.

The Dark Lord's assignments, particularly now, when he did not see fit to disclose the manoeuvrings of his Death Eaters even to the others, were generally considered to be clandestine. Not something to be discussed amongst themselves.

And yet, Severus had to know. It gnawed at him and he knew it meant something. He knew it was key.

"The blood."

Lucius eyed him and then lifted his chin; "That Bellatrix and I procured?"

"Yes. Who's was it?"

Lucius was silent for a moment and Severus wondered if he would answer.

He and Lucius had always gotten along. Had always been friendly, even when the other had been a fifth year and Severus a scrawny first year.

Severus did not think it would be audacious of him to refer to them as friends.

It would not be the first time Severus had asked him for information regarding the Dark Arts; the Dark Lord. Nor vice versa.

And, yet, the request Severus made of him now seemed bigger; both knew the Dark Lord didn't want the knowledge to be generally known.

Lucius tilted his head, looking at Severus closely; "Neville Longbottom's."

The words seemed suspended in the air.

_What?_

This was…

This was _bad_.

Severus wasn't entirely sure what it meant, though he had an inkling. Blood Magic. The Longbottom boy. The Dark Lord's fall and return. His secrecy about the entire ordeal ever since.

It was all linked.

Severus' task had not been about Regulus at all.

It had been…

"Careful, Severus."

Severus met Lucius' eyes. The other man was regarding him with open amusement, unsurprised suspicion and cockiness.

Lucius raised an eyebrow; "Your loyalties are showing."

And, with that, Lucius made a sharp turn and strode from the house.


	29. November 1987: Prophecy Child

Regulus' screams subsided; a low groan escaping him as his body twitched in the aftermath of the Cruciatus.

The Dark Lord stepped over him.

"Commendable, perhaps. Unacceptable, most definitely." The Dark Lord circled Regulus' form but did not look at him; "Remember this, Regulus; benefitting from all I have built, when one is unwilling to stand by my cause, to even attempt to discover my whereabouts, why, I wonder if the punishment for such a misdemeanour ought to be death?"

Regulus focused entirely on his mind, his occlumency barriers, and he knew his skills in such were by no means brilliant; nothing in comparison to Severus' levels of deception. If the Dark Lord should choose to actually _attack_ with the full force of his legilliemency skills, his ability to maintain the barriers were dubious – he could probably do it but not without the Dark Lord realising he was doing so. And just the mere _hint_ of secrecy on his side would be enough.

"On your feet." The Dark Lord finally said, with a sharp indication in the direction of the others. Regulus scrambled up, making his way back to the space he had vacated when he had fallen to his knees under the first assault of the Cruciatus.

"Welcome home, Regulus. My friends. Now that we are all reunited, it is finally time to begin."

* * *

"Augusta Longbottom is dead."

The Order meetings previously had begun as sombre affairs but, with each new one, five so far, since the Dark Lord's return they had become more of a social engagement rather than any true contribution to the war effort.

There was still no war.

As such, this meeting had started out with almost merriment. The first time it had taken place at the Burrow and Molly Weasley had gone out of her way to make the experience as enjoyable as possible; providing them all with baked goods – cookies and pumpkin pie – as well as sweet beverages, which they had all devoured between animated conversations between themselves as they awaited Dumbledore's arrival.

When he had appeared, his expression had been as grim as the announcement he made.

"What about the boy, Albus?" Minerva spoke up.

"As yet, Neville Longbottom is unrecovered. We can only hope that he had somehow been concealed by his grandmother prior –"

"But what are the chances of that?" Moody demanded; "I was with the aurors that found her. And I'm telling you; that woman suffered."

"Thank you, Alastor. The most likely scenario is that Neville has been captured." Dumbledore's eyes met Severus', an unspoken question, to which Severus gave a slight nod; already connecting the dots. The Dark Lord had spoken to them of a location, a den, during his previous gathering with the Circle – though the circumstances of Neville Longbottom's capture had been omitted – and Severus had already related it to Dumbledore.

"And we must see to it immediately that he is recovered. I have already received intelligence of his potential whereabouts however our intervention is most likely expected. Needless to say, we must still investigate with the upmost caution. And readiness. While Neville Longbottom may not be held in this location, indeed, he most likely isn't, there is a chance we can find clues as to his true whereabouts –"

"Dumbledore, come on. The boy is dead," Moody said, with sombre bluntness.

"Very well. Even if I were to concede the point, which I do not, we are aware that Death Eaters will be congregating at this locality which forces our hand. For now, we must tread with due care and discuss our own action plan. It goes without saying that the longer it takes for the Death Eaters to be aware of our arrival, the stronger our position will be."

"We shall divide into three groups," Dumbledore began, receiving a murmuring and collection of hands raised in voluntary acquiescence, of those willing, as he carried on speaking. Discussing the particulars of the location that Severus had already investigated, had already planted the seeds of doubt, seen to it that the odd object was dropped nearby; an auror badge, some extra footprints in the dirt in the surrounding areas, in order to protect his own cover. Somewhere to point the finger, when questions of how Dumbledore discovered the location arose.

The measures were unneeded; Dumbledore received information of the gathering point from others, also. Locals who had alerted the Ministry, who had altered the Aurors, and Kingsley and Moody both confirmed the reports as Dumbledore spoke.

The Death Eaters had been careless; seen.

"I'll go."

Severus met Lily's eyes sharply across the table at the sound of her voice. She held his look for barely a second, before turning back to Dumbledore; receiving the instructions for herself and the group to which she had volunteered herself.

Severus shifted, feeling an uneasiness settle over him, and did his best not to simply stare at her as she listened to Dumbledore with rapt attention; receiving her orders.

Within half an hour, the plan was set; Severus receiving no orders of his own. Being the spy meant all he had to do to contribute was listen and talk; action not required. Action not practical; he could not be spotted.

And then they were dismissed; off to arms.

Severus lingered in the corner of the hallway, as the Order members disbanded and began to head from the Burrow, catching Lily as subtly as he could by the arm; "Lily."

She smiled at him; "Hey." She looked over his shoulder, at those who were leaving; "I'll fall behind –"

"Good."

Lily met his eyes sharply and then raised an eyebrow, her eyes seeming almost amused as she regarded him; "You object?"

"Yes."

"This is what you've been training me for."

" _Muffliato._ Lily, you cannot be serious. The purpose of the training was for your protection. And after our discussion regarding your son, I would have thought the need for discretion was obvious."

"Severus, I _have_ fought with the Order before. You said it yourself, you saw me. You _fought_ me."

"Circumstances were entirely different; the Dark Lord knew nothing of you back then. And flaunting your defiance in his face now is hardly conductive to maintaining a low profile."

"It is carrying on as normal, like you and Dumbledore suggested. And it's Harry who needs to be protected, Severus, not me."

"They go hand-in-hand,"

"I'm getting the impression the only way you will be satisfied is if I were to be settled on my couch in a nightgown with a pair of knitting needles while all this is going on."

Severus bristled; "Ridiculous. I am not doubting your abilities. My concerns are valid in this case."

At least that's what he told himself; ignored the little voice in the back of his head that told him that _he_ was the one being ridiculous. That he could not wrap her up in cotton wool or lock her in a box or protect her by denying her the right to protect herself. Such overprotectiveness was not acceptable in any relationship, particularly when there was no relationship in the first place, and he knew he would not appreciate such an overbearing presence if the circumstances were reversed.

" _You_ risk your life every day," Lily pointed out, as if reading his thoughts; "And don't think you can protect me just by keeping me away from you."

"Ah."

"What?"

"I am trying to decide if you are truly stubborn enough to get yourself killed just to spite me."

"You're being a bit over-dramatic."

"This coming from the Drama Queen herself. Life and death situations often call for drastic responses…what?"

A slow, small smile had spread over her face as he spoke, coming out full force when he questioned it, and her eyes softened. She rolled her eyes, making a little 'hmm' in pleasure or amusement he wasn't sure;

"Sev, you're…you're really sweet –"

Severus felt himself bristle again.

"But, _really_ , I can handle myself."

She reached for him, even as she made to walk by, taking his hand and squeezing it, briefly, before she headed in the direction of the others; breaking into a brisk jog to catch up and he could only stand and watch her go.

Left with a gnawing in his gut that he couldn't ignore.

Until the Dark Mark began to burn.

* * *

The ambush happened so suddenly, they barely had time to react.

The first curse was sent their way within a second of them realising something was wrong, hitting Moody square in the chest, and sending him to the ground, writhing in agony under the effects of the Cruciatus.

The manic laughter of Bellatrix Black filled the air, mixing with the auror's cries, and then, chaos.

The dark clearing was lit with the light of curses and spells being fired back and forth; Death Eaters seeming to come out of everywhere, as if they had been waiting all along.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius had engaged his cousin and Lily felt a jolt of worry for him, as he darted about, reminded of his very recent recovery; that his legs could fail him at any moment.

But there was no time to think about it, suddenly caught up in combat with a Death Eater of her own. She deflected their curses with better skill than she had done so in the past, practice duels with Severus paying off, and floored her opponent with a stupefy, before she was quickly engaged by another.

"Lily!" Remus deflected a curse sent her way.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

Both she and Remus recoiled, as the words sounded, though the curse wasn't sent either of their ways; instead, it fired in the direction of Sirius, who only just managed to avoid it.

Screams echoed throughout the clearing, the injured, the tortured.

Shouts of curses joining them.

Barely anyone noticed when the first person fell; an Order member.

A Death Eater went next; dead

It was horribly familiar and yet the adrenaline pumped through her veins, keeping her moving, and she felt Sirius' back against hers when three masked attackers surrounded them; anticipated their moves, ready for them, deflecting their attempted curses and firing their own in turn until, finally, two fell and the line broke.

A rumbling sounded by the den next to them and, then, a grumble, followed by a roar, as light burst forth from the opening, the force of it sending everyone in the near vicinity to the ground and an apparition appeared, translucent and vividly green, lunging for the nearest body, an Order member, that Kingsley quickly vaporised with a spell of his own.

And then, from the opening, two dementors suddenly fluttered into the clearing and the atmosphere grew heavy; unbearably cold. The first targeted Emmeline Vance but the creature was so close that the cold invaded Lily's chest, her heart, her breath seen in the air.

Lily clutched her wand tight; she knew the incantation. She knew the spell. Willed a memory to come, something bright, her son. Harry. But, suddenly, she could see nothing; could only hear agonised screams and she knew it wasn't of those in the area, that they were coming from somewhere deep inside of her. Memories of the past.

" _Expecto Patronum_!"

Bright light warded off the dementors, sending the two of them scattering in a flee.

It wasn't Lily who had done it.

Lily was suddenly pulled to her feet and Remus right in front of her; "Are you alright?"

She only had the chance to give a sharp nod when, suddenly, the dementors were back, and three others fluttered out from the den.

Remus grasped at her wrist and urged her in the direction of the forest, as the Order members fled; the Death Eaters having already done so, upon the first onslaught from the dementors, but they were lying in wait, and Lily barely managed to deflect the first curse sent her way as they reached the trees. Too slow to react to the next.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

It got her.

Lily doubled over as it struck her across the chest but it wasn't enough to floor her and she heard Sirius call out to her, just as Remus was sent flying across the forest; coming to a stop when his body collided with a faraway tree.

The dementors surrounded them again, circling from above, and the unbearable coldness overwhelmed them. The grass and the leaves of the trees curling under the effects; frost and ice developing on the surfaces.

Lily fought back, as another Death Eater engaged her, but whoever it was pushed back, making her stumble among the branches and the grass at their feet, almost losing her footing.

" _Einlatus!"_

The Death Eater doubled over, forearms suddenly pressed to the side of his head, a groan, a trickle of blood appearing from the opening of the ear and, then, suddenly, the hand holding his wand flicked in Lily's direction; " _Crucio_!"

Lily screamed, falling to her knees, unable to help it; it didn't last long, the Death Eater's torture of her interrupted by an Order member – Kingsley – who threw a hex their way. And she scrambled back to her feet, suddenly feeling weaker, vision blurring, and Lily glanced down at the wound across her chest; the fabric of her robes matted against her skin and she touched it; drawing her hand back and seeing the dark moisture of blood that had soaked through.

Lily stumbled backwards, slightly, before she willed herself to carry on; keep fighting. The forest still lit up with the battle. But, before she could take another step, she was suddenly hit square in the chest and was sent flying; she reached out, grasping for anything, as she felt herself hit a slope. Tumbling downwards. She grasped a vine or a branch or a plant, she wasn't sure, whatever it was she didn't hold onto it for long, the object slicing through the skin of her palm under the friction as she felt herself descend rapidly down the incline.

Her back hit something hard and then she flipped, in the air for only a second, before her body smacked back down onto the ground, temple colliding with it less than a second later, and her world went black.

* * *

"Lily."

The voice was soft, calling her name, drawing her back to consciousness.

She felt a hand on her face, the voice still speaking softly, telling her to open her eyes. A familiar voice but she couldn't place it. Her mind still fuzzy, barely able to remember what had happened.

There had been a battle.

Dementors.

Familiar screams from her darkest memories filling her ears.

A Cruciatus.

She groaned as the pain hit her sharply in conjunction with the memories.

"Lily."

Her eyes flicked open.

A Death Eater was above her; masked and inches from her face.

Lily jerked back with a startled yelp, reaching for her wand, her panic driving her to action.

"Lily." The Death Eater spoke with a familiar voice, a hand pressing her to the ground, holding her there, and then his other hand reached up and yanked the mask from his face.

Severus.

Lily drew in a shaky breath, her heart still racing even at the sight of him, and she tried to calm herself, closing her eyes; "Sev."

"What happened? Are you…tell me where it hurts. I have healed the wounds on your hand and chest. Are there any others?"

Lily drew in a breath, opening her eyes, and seeing the unconcealed apprehension in his pushed her to get a grip of herself. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, wincing at the pain that shot through her; "I…I think I'm okay."

Severus looked at her dubiously. His eyes flicked across her; from her face down to her toes. And there was a rare openness in his eyes when they met hers once again; concern and tenderness, affection and vulnerability. His hand clutched her arms as he lifted his wand; "Let me check."

He cast the charm, hovering above her, and she touched her forehead to his shoulder as he did. Stayed like that until he drew back a few moments later; "Your ankle's broken. Other than that…"

Severus trailed off, expression grim as he looked at her.

Lily gave a little shrug, regaining her composure; "Hey. Not a bad initiation back into the Order, right?"

Severus did not look amused. Simply glanced away from her as he tucked his wand back into his sleeve.

"Hey, Mr Sunshine. You're blinding me here."

Severus met her eyes and shook his head, making to speak but saying nothing.

And then she smiled and lifted an eyebrow; "Go ahead. If you dare."

"What?"

"Say it. I think it starts with ' _I_ ' and then ends with something along the lines of ' _told you so_ '?"

"You'll have to excuse me. I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"I'm fine, Sev."

"Luck, that is all."

"Luck? I didn't think you believed in such things."

Severus sighed, leaning back over her; "Let me fix that." His wand was in his hand again, as he reached for her ankle.

"I can do it," Lily said, wincing at the pain as she moved her leg; "For the first few months of my apprenticeship all I did was mend broken bones."

"I'll do it," Severus said, quietly, not looking at her, as he moved himself further down. He lifted her leg with a tender grasp around her calf, brushing away the fabric of her robe, her dress beneath, and lifted his wand, speaking the spell and Lily felt her heart swell with her affection for him as she observed the way he worked.

His hand gentle, but firm, holding her with a tenderness that made her heartbeat quicken. A dark intensity in his eyes when they met hers that stole her breath for a second, making her catch and hold it. But he looked away, back down at her ankle, as he carried on.

She felt rather silly, under the circumstances, Severus here tending to her wounds and she so captivated by him under his ministrations.

So far, since he had turned her away the two weeks before, his resolve had been firm. He hadn't given in or even shown any notice of her attempts at…what? Wearing him down? Seducing him?

It wasn't something she would normally do. In fact, she had never done so. Lily had always been the one to be chased. And to be so forward with someone, particularly when they had made it clear they weren't interested, wasn't a situation she had ever expected to find herself in. Except, in this case, she knew that Severus _was_ interested, despite his protests.

He wasn't keeping her at distance because he didn't care; he was doing it because he _did._

And, the more she thought about it, the more it strengthened her desire to be with him. Knowing that Severus cared about her that way, to the extent that he was so determined to put her welfare above his feelings for her – as frustrating as it may be – was both thrilling and unnerving and it stirred her own feelings for him, told her more about his character, the man he had become, so much so that she couldn't keep away.

His determination to keep things between them static was maddening.

Lily wanted him.

Yes, it was a childish thought; that she wanted him so she should get him. She had always been particularly spoiled in that regard. After all, she almost always made sure she got what she wanted. But, in this case, she knew that she wasn't the only one; Severus wanted it too.

He was just too pig-headed, too sure of his own decision to listen to her and accept that, for her, it was worth the risk. Especially when she now knew how deep his feelings ran for her. That what they were feeling was something real.

Apparently even Dumbledore knew.

Though, she supposed, that made sense. Severus had told her, in the same conversation, that he had turned to Dumbledore _for_ her. And now, he kept them apart, had sought to shelter their relationship from the prying eyes of others, all to protect her too. Because he cared for her.

And Severus expected her, with that knowledge, to just walk away?

Not a chance.

Severus moved, lifting his head, only to find her staring at him with every thought, every feeling that had risen with it, evident in her expression.

His own eyes darkened in response to the yearning within hers but he rolled them, drawing in a breath, making to pull away.

Lily stopped him with a hand to the arm, holding him still. Still and close, face mere inches from hers, and she glanced down at his lips and then back at his eyes, giving him a little smile.

Severus melted, giving her a smile of his own, but his eyes averted, glancing over the clearing when he spoke; "My instincts tell me you are not the type to take 'no' for an answer."

"Your instincts, Professor Snape, are as stellar as always."

Severus met her eyes and Lily could see the same longing in them that gripped her tight; coiling and burning deep inside, telling her to just lean in and take what she wanted.

Severus swallowed, shaking his head; "The answer is still no, Lily."

His eyes said something different. But Lily knew that his eyes only revealed what he wanted, not what he would actually do. And that his resolve was just as set as it had been before.

"I know."

Lily kissed him anyway; his look making it clear he wouldn't stop her.

She supposed the whole almost-dying thing might have weakened his resolve a bit.

It was soft and slow and sweet, without the same desperate passion that had been in the others they had shared, this one meaning something different. Something more. Her own feelings poured into it, deeper than those demonstrated the first time; this time the warmth, the affection, the promise for more. Love.

The thought made her start and she drew back.

Severus' eyes opened and he tilted his head to the side, just looking at her.

Lily's heart was racing so fast, pounding so hard, that she was sure Severus would be able to hear it.

Love.

Of course.

She didn't even realise when it had happened.

When she had fallen.

Lily reached up, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb slowly trailing across the skin in a gentle caress, and then she leaned in again. She had to. She _had_ to.

Her lips had barely brushed his when he spoke against them.

"We are only making this more difficult than it has to be."

Lily reluctantly drew back at his words, the open vulnerability was still there but there was a guardedness to his expression now, telling her that he wasn't going to let this go further.

One kiss.

He gave her that.

Nothing more.

Lily raised an eyebrow; "Speak for yourself."

Severus smiled, one of the rare genuine ones of his that made her heart swell.

She titled her head forward, speaking quietly; "It doesn't have to be. If what you're worried about is other people…no one has to know."

Lily had thought about it. Considered it following their discussion. That, if what Severus was concerned about was Hopkins finding out, Voldemort, then she could do it. She could keep it quiet, if it only meant she could show him how she felt; that her feelings were as real as his. That her want for him was the same as his for her.

Her own intensity rising as the depth of his had become apparent.

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You mean you _wouldn't_. That's fine. So _I'm_ asking _you."_

Severus drew in a breath, shook his head; "It wouldn't be fair, Lily. To have to live your life in secrecy, as I must in mine? No."

"Now who's being impossible?"

"Because it is. I've thought about it too, Lily. There is no way."

"Only because you're being a stubborn wanker about it all."

Severus' lips twitched in amusement; "Interesting assessment. And yet you…" His words trailed off, his expression become guarded once again, and he looked away.

"And yet I." Lily repeated, each word pronounced, as she leaned forward, forcing him to look at her; "Yes, I do."

Severus look at her, right at her, and for one hopeful second, Lily though he might concede; might agree. Instead he sighed, offering up another excuse; "It would be too complicated."

Lily bit her lip, leaning forward to close the tiny gap between them; "Simple is overrated."

She caught his lips once again with hers.

Severus didn't pull away. Staying almost remarkably still, the only movement the parting of his lips as she kissed him, the feel of his hand curling tight around hers where they lay against her stomach.

The stirring of leaves, the snapping of a branch, snapped him to attention. Severus tore himself from her in a second, wand gripped tight in his hand, as he spun, still in a crouch, to face the intruder.

Remus.

Remus halted in his footsteps, looking incredibly awkward, and Lily was certain that if it hadn't been dark she'd be able to see a blush on his cheeks as he averted his eyes; "Oh. Um…s-sorry. I was…I saw you go down."

"You took your time." Severus' voice was cold.

"I'm fine, Remus." Lily smiled at him, pushing herself more upright behind Severus, so he could see her properly; "Severus found me."

Remus nodded, eyeing them both, and then looking away; "Yeah. I…I saw."

What he had seen was obvious.

An awkwardness descended.

An uncomfortable silence.

Remus cleared his throat, glancing back at her briefly; "Well I'll…uh – I'll just leave you two to it then."

Severus eyes flashed and he was on his feet; "I was just leaving. Perhaps you'd like to see to it that Lily gets to St Mungo's? She's injured."

"I'm not in–" Lily made to protest the statement but Severus was already striding away.

The look he shot Remus was ice cold as he bypassed him, full of even more loathing than usual, and then Severus was gone.

Remus watched him retreat and then turned back to Lily, as she got to her feet, and it seemed like he was going to say something about it. About Severus. About what he had seen.

But he didn't.

His expression became guardedly concerned; "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Remus held her look.

And then he nodded; "Right."

Lily exhaled audibly, the awkwardness swelling, and she stepped towards him, the two of them sharing another look, him desperate to say something and she daring him to do so.

But he didn't.

So they walked, the silence dragging on all the way back to the house.

* * *

Remus was uneasy.

But he was by no means surprised.

He had long expected that the whole thing with Lily and Snape would come to a head; their behaviour at Harry's birthday party some months before making it more than obvious that there was something between the two of them. And, yet, the foresight he had gained from the brief glimpse did little to prepare him for the reality of seeing it.

Lily Potter kissing Severus Snape, _in his Death Eater robes_.

They were lucky it had been him who had found them. It could have just as easily been a Death Eater or, perhaps even worse, _Sirius._

Remus could just imagine the outcome of such an encounter; most likely one of Snape or Sirius would have wound up _dead_. Hell, Snape had looked like he was ready to hex him into outer space when he had come upon them in the forest.

And Remus was pretty sure Snape had the capabilities of doing so.

When he had thought of the possibility of he and Lily a few months ago, the situation was entirely different. First of all, he had not known for certain that the man had been a Death Eater. That was a strike, if there ever was one, though that wasn't at all surprising considering the company he kept. The man may have surrounded himself with some of the best researchers in the Wizarding World by working at the Foundation, but it was no secret that Regulus Black and Lucius Malfoy remained close allies of his.

Still, Lily had not seemed surprised by Snape's casual announcement at the first Order meeting. Remus wasn't an idiot, nor was Sirius, both could tell immediately that she had known all along. Whether that proved repentance on Snape's side or naivety on Lily's remained to be seen.

Remus didn't like the idea of standing back to find out which.

But then, as he kept reminding himself over and over again as they made their way back to the house, it was none of his business.

Lily could kiss and fall in love with whomever she saw fit and there was nothing he could say or do about it. Considering she already knew he had been one of _them_ , he figured it would take something pretty sizable to knock her of the path she was heading down right now.

"Your silence is deafening, Remus."

Remus glanced at her, saying nothing.

"Just get on with it."

"With what?"

"Please." She reached out, stopping him with a hand to the arm; "I know you have an opinion."

"And I know you wouldn't care for it. So, maybe we should just spare ourselves the argument?"

Lily drew in a breath, as if trying to keep her composure; "I wasn't planning on arguing."

"You don't know what I have to say."

"I have an idea."

"Fine." Remus glanced around the street, as if their might be eavesdroppers in the middle of the night; "What the hell were you _thinking_?"

Lily blinked.

"I mean, Lily…if you really plan on going through with this thing – couldn't the two of you at least have waited until you were off the bloody battlefield? _Anyone_ could have seen you!"

Perhaps that was an exaggeration. Lily had tumbled quite a bit away from the scuffle. Nevertheless, it didn't take Remus long to find her. Nor Snape, apparently.

Lily pursed her lips together; "I…we…it wasn't like it was planned, Remus."

"Well start planning," Remus said, with a glance at the house; "Maybe if you do you might be able to limit the fallout of this…this…" _Trainwreck_.

" _Muffliato."_ Lily crossed her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow; "You disapprove, then?"

Remus met her eyes and she returned his look evenly and he wondered why she was even bothering trying to have a discussion about it with him. Her resolve was more than evident in her eyes and anything he said was, quite simply, a waste of breath; "Yeah, Lily. I do."

"Why?"

"You _know_ why. You must have thought about the consequences of this, at least? I mean, forget the whole Death Eater-turned-Spy scenario – have you thought about what this is going to do to us? To Sirius?"

Lily shrugged; "He'll get over it."

The two of them held one another's gaze.

And then Remus shook his head, speaking quietly; "No he won't, Lily."

There it was, a flicker of doubt in her eyes, and then she looked down; arms coming uncrossed as she shuffled a bit on her feet; "He'd…he'd just have to."

"I'm not gonna stand here and pretend that what I have to say makes any difference to what you decide to do," Remus told her, waiting until she met his eyes again before he went on; "You know I'll stand by you, whatever you decide. But Sirius? Hell, Lily – this is gonna blow you guys apart."

"So, you think I should walk away from this because of what Sirius might think?"

Remus was silent.

"No. I don't, actually."

Lily frowned.

"I already told you; you and Sirius got yourselves into a huge mess by living together like this for so long in the first place. You've only got yourselves to blame for what's about to happen now. It was always going to be like this. Even if it wasn't Snape – _anyone_ coming along, with the potential to take you and Harry away from him, was going to make Sirius blow up. The fact that it _is_ Snape only throws fuel onto the, already ginormous, fire."

"Surely he knew that –"

"Lily. You saw how he reacted when he thought it was going to be _me._ And I'm already in your lives. Don't act naïve; you know what this means. _I_ may think that you need to cut Sirius loose but what about you? Are you ready for that? Is Harry?"

"Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought."

"Well, yeah. Not like I've got much else to do with my time, is it." _I'm not sneaking around in the shadows making out with Death Eaters._

"Well maybe you should have spoken up sooner, then?"

"You wouldn't have listened, Lily. I'm surprised you're even listening now! It's not like you to actually think before doing stuff."

"Screw you."

And then she smiled. He did too.

"If you don't think that what Sirius thinks should matter to me, then why do you object?"

"Because it's Snape. Sorry, it's blunt, yeah, but I can't help it, Lily. I remember the guy. There's history there and not a good one. He spent the last two years of Hogwarts trying to get me expelled."

"After –"

"Yes. _After_."

Sirius' 'prank'.

Remus sighed, waving a hand. It did no good to drag up his past with Snape; "Forget about mine and Sirius' history with him – what about _yours_? He's hurt you before. And I'm willing to bet that you marrying James didn't exactly give Snape the warm fuzzies either. There's…a lot of pain, there."

"We've talked about it. It's sorted."

"Sorted? So, he told you all about it, then? About what we did to him?"

"What did you do?"

Remus averted his eyes, feeling suddenly guilty. He cleared his throat, meeting her eyes; "Nothing I'm proud of. Not that it excuses what he's done since. How do you know he's not after you just to get one over on James? Or Sirius. He probably knows just as well as us how he's going to react –"

"That's ridiculous! Severus and I had a relationship long before Hogwarts. Like you said, we _do_ have a history and it's totally separate from what happened with him and James. Or any of you."

"You're the one that connected them, Lily, when you married James. That can't sit well with him. Sorry to be the bringer of hard truths, but guys, generally, do have some pride and I've seen the way Snape looks at Sirius. He's not over it."

"He doesn't have to be. I can't demand he 'get over' what happened any more than I can demand it of you, for what Sirius did to you; it doesn't mean we can't move on."

"Just ignore it then? Until it blows up in our faces?"

"Fine. If that's the way you look at it. I prefer to call it living. Not everything has to be tied up in a nice little bow. There's such a thing as compromise."

"Who's the one compromising in this, then?"

Lily stared at him and then jutted out her chin; "Neither. We're not together."

Remus felt relief stir within him, though it was fleeting, because he could tell by Lily's arguments that they would be very soon.

"But you want to be?"

"Yes."

Remus drew in a breath, eyes wandering up the street, as he considered her words. This was the most he and Lily had spoken in months, ever since he had made the dumbass move of kissing her, and it was a particularly draining topic of conversation. So much history; pain, regret. It had never sat well with him, even at the time, the things that he and the others would do to Snape at school. Calling them pranks, a laugh, a joke only veiling the true nature behind the behaviour; maliciousness.

Remus had never really known why Sirius and James disliked Snape so much when he had met them; it had been a few months into first year before he had befriended the other two and, by then, the rivalry had already been established. And Snape wasn't too bad with a wand himself back then, either; it seemed to start off as a pretty even fight.

But, of course, with Remus coming along and then Peter Pettigrew joining pretty much on his heels, it quickly escalated from mutual hexing into four boys on one. Remus had been a coward; he couldn't stand up to them and tell them to stop. He had never had friends before, his condition leading his parents to keeping him concealed during most of his childhood, and he had always been an outsider. He had wanted, more than anything, to be seen for more than just the wolf. James and Sirius and Peter, they had given him that; he could have just as easily been like Snape. An outsider.

Rather than driving him to be the bigger man, as it should have, it only made him cower lower; he didn't want to lose his friends. And Snape seemed to be a deal breaker with James and Sirius. So he kept quiet. He didn't lift his wand to him but he didn't do anything to stop them either.

But, then, even now Remus was the same.

He wouldn't have even brought up _this_ discussion he was having with Lily right now, if she hadn't pushed him into it.

He was always too scared of driving people away.

It was pathetic but true; he just wanted people to _see_ him. To want to be around. And he didn't want to ever give them a reason not to be.

Snape only ever saw the wolf.

Remus didn't blame him. That was no different to the way the rest of the world saw him. But he still resented him for it.

"I…" he began, deciding to steer the conversation elsewhere; "I think it's…good, though, Lil'."

She met his eyes, question in her gaze.

"That you're moving on. That you're ready. I was worried about you, for a while there. Both of us were. It was pretty much the only thing me and Sirius could agree on; that we wanted to see you let go."

Lily drew in a breath; "Yeah?"

Remus smiled in return and nodded; "Yeah. You're a great person. It…it was just as hard, seeing you lost like that. And, you know, you deserve it. To find someone who'll give you what you deserve."

Lily held his look, her eyes searching, and then her expression softened and she smiled; "Thanks, Remus."

The warmth in her eyes emboldened him. And this was Lily. Would she really push him away for it, if what he was saying was due to concern?

"Just…uh…it _is_ Snape, Lily."

"So you said."

"Have you thought about this? _Really_ thought about it? I know I sound like a broken record here but I just want you to be sure about what you're doing. Before it's too late."

"I know he's good."

"Yeah, alright. Sure, okay. Let's assume he is. Dumbledore trusts him for a reason, right?" He waited, wondered if she might elaborate, because Snape must have given her a reason, too, for his defection if Lily was so behind him the way she was right now. Lily was silent, so he went on; "What about Harry?"

"What about Harry?"

"Harry is James' kid. Have you and Snape talked about that? I mean, how does Snape feel about James fathering your son?"

"I don't know." Lily glowered at him, before adding with a bite; "Not good, I would think."

"And don't you think that's going to be an issue? Haven't you asked?"

"I can't ask him that! We're not even together."

"Well, don't kid yourself, Lily, you're gonna have to. Sure you two may not be there just yet but something like a kid is a pretty big deal, especially considering the parents, and you need to know now, before it goes any further, how Snape's going to feel about raising James Potter's son."

"Remus, you are way ahead –"

"Yes, because I'm _thinking,_ Lily, and you're not. How do you think this is gonna end up? Just a few shags in the shadows? Or is it you and Snape in a little house, with Harry, pancakes on Sundays –"

"Don't patronise me, Remus." Ah, Lily from last year was suddenly back, her eyes flashing. It was a welcome reminder of her ability to handle herself. Considering the situation at hand.

"You think I haven't thought about it? You're crazy. It's all I think about. I'm trying to make it work."

"Why, Lily? Why? Why does it have to be him? Pick someone else. Hell, the baggage you two are bringing to the table is obscene, it doesn't make any sense why you'd want to put yourself through it."

"I can't help it."

" _Merlin_." Remus closed his eyes, knowing the answer before he even spoke it; "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Lily averted her eyes.

Remus shook his head, turning away for a second, before taking a step closer; "Does he love you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What?"

"He doesn't want us to be together."

Silence.

"Oh."

 _That_ was a surprise.

Sure, it was a bit of a taboo subject, especially considering Remus' actions the year before, but hell, Lily was a catch. And he didn't really think any man would be foolish enough to turn her away if she were to offer herself up to them – and Lily was more than offering herself up to Snape here. She was in love with the guy. For whatever reason. And Remus sure as hell wouldn't have turned her away if it had been him she'd set her sights on.

Looking at Lily now, the set resolve that had been there in her eyes had weakened and, now, Remus could see sadness lingering in their depths.

He frowned, feeling concern rise within him.

"Why not?"

Lily drew in a breath, lowering her eyes and giving a small shrug, lips twitching to the side; "He thinks it's dangerous. For me. Because of what he used to be."

The statement was enough to stun Remus into silence for a moment, as he considered her words. Snape was refusing Lily, not because of – well, Remus couldn't really think of any reason why he would – but because he was concerned for her safety. That was…surprising. And, honestly, it was a massive relief.

Maybe, then, Snape did care about her after all.

Good. At least this thing wasn't some sort of twisted vendetta of getting back at James and Sirius.

"Oh."

"Malachi's mother was murdered by Eugene Hopkins because of her relationship to Regulus Black," Lily elaborated, though Remus had not requested anything further; "Because he used to be a Death Eater. Severus says it's only a matter of time before someone does the same to him – now that people know the truth."

Remus made a mental note to speak of Snape's past to no one.

"He thinks it's…foolish of me, to want to be together."

Remus agreed. Not only was Lily willing to risk her relationship with Sirius, reopen dozens of old wounds and potentially make Severus Snape Harry Potter's step-father – she was also, apparently, willing to put her bloody _life_ on the line for the whole thing.

Lily Evans. When she had her mind set on something an _asteroid_ couldn't knock her off her path.

"You're…out of your mind, Lily." Remus sighed, reaching up to rub a hand across his face; "The guy doesn't stand a chance."

Lily smiled.

Remus felt his own smile come in response. And then she giggled and he laughed quietly in response, shaking his head as he looked away.

Lily Potter and Severus Snape.

The world better be ready.

* * *

Severus Snape was an idiot.

Especially when it came to Lily Evans. Potter. Whatever.

Though, in this case, his idiocy had paid off. Lupin took so long to happen upon them that, if Severus had not come to the battle, then Lily probably would have bled to death by the time he'd shown up to offer assistance.

It was blind panic that had made him go to the den in the first place, after his summons to the Dark Lord had revealed the details of the events underway; the Order had been sent to the location, where an ambush was set to take place by the majority of the Death Eaters, the purpose of which was simply to kill off as many of Dumbledore's soldiers as possible, prior to the Dark Lord's reveal of himself.

Another Death Eater, presumably Lucius for Severus had seen no sign of him that night, had been assigned the task of collecting Neville Longbottom from where he was being held while the Order members were distracted with the battle.

Not high enough in the Circle to be deemed worthy of such a precious responsibility, the collection of the boy, nor able to offer his skills as a duellist, as to be spotted by an Order member would blow his cover as a spy, Severus was simply dismissed and told to wait for the due summons once the events had taken place.

Severus had apparated immediately to the den.

Mask and Death Eater robes would be more than enough to keep his identity secret to all, so long as he did not engage with anyone. No matter how tempting Sirius Black's arrogant prancing may have been.

He had remained on the outskirts, watching the battle from a distance, catching sight of red hair in the distance and he tried to keep an eye on her, while simultaneously keeping watch for any other nasty tricks that the Dark Lord had intended on sending their way.

He was forced to take cover, however, when two dementors and a patronus were suddenly launched in his direction – he couldn't cast his own patronus without drawing obvious attention - and then he had lost sight of her, when everyone had fled in the direction of the forest. And it was sheer luck that he had come across her at all, when he had crept into the forest, attempting to catch sight of what was going on overhead.

Of course, the idiocy did not stop there.

There had been touches. Further confessions of affection. _More_ kisses.

And, best of all, discovery.

Brilliant.

Remus Lupin.

Severus supposed it could have been worse. At least the werewolf cared about Lily, over and above any hatred he felt towards him – he doubted that could be said for Black, or any of the other Order members, for that matter – so he would put her welfare over a dramatic scene, that would have revealed the situation to all.

Then again, perhaps he just didn't want to ruffle Lily's feathers and have to endure a slap down of his own.

Spineless prick.

Severus took the remaining downwards steps into the mausoleum, the summons finally having come, about half an hour or so after he had stormed away from them.

The sight before him made him hesitate somewhat in his steps; though he quickly recovered and forced himself to walk on and not look at the lifeless body that lay on the ground.

It was a form that Severus recognised from months before, when Dumbledore had sent the boy to him to raid his memories.

Neville Longbottom.

"Behold, the prophecy child." The Dark Lord's voice came out as a sneer, when everyone finally made their appearances, their grovels, their kisses.

He stood from the chair he had been lounging in, waving a slow hand in the boy's direction; "Neville Longbottom. My conqueror." A low, mocking chuckle escaped him. A few of the Death Eaters joined him, murmurs of approval and chuckles filling the cold room.

"I am sure you have all wondered how it was possible that I should have been defeated by this child. Well. Tonight, I shall reveal the truth to you all. It was not this boy –" he eyed him with distain; "-that saw to my disappearance. Nor was it his parents, the dear, sweet Longbottoms. No. It was magic, my friends. Blood magic, as ancient as it comes, and with their failure is my gain, for I have now gained immeasurable power with that which they sought to turn upon me. With, your help, of course, Severus."

Severus felt his stomach churn.

"Ancestral calling, one of the most powerful of all. It is almost impossible for any to master. Yet, the Longbottoms sought the knowledge, the power, and were granted it. The boy was, indeed, powerful. More so, even, than I for a time. But no more. With the lifting of the magic, the boy was merely a child once more and I have seen to it that this _prediction_ cannot come to pass; for, while he may have sourced the powers of his ancestors with the sacrifice of his parents, he remained susceptible to his own mortality. Which, as you are aware, I am not."

Severus could only stare at the boy, now, barely able to make sense of what the Dark Lord was saying. The Longbottoms had used blood magic to call upon the powers of their ancestors – how was that possible? Severus had never heard of such magic. And, surely the containment of such a power was not something a mere mortal, as the Dark Lord pointed out, could hold onto or control for any length of time.

Severus sought to voice his questions, as respectfully as possible, and received a proud smile from his master in response.

"Severus. You are always so eager to learn. But I must warn you, the calling upon the magic of one's ancestors is only possible for those of purity. Untainted by the blood of muggles. I should not wish you to be disappointed in your endeavours."

Severus cleared his throat and bowed his head; "You are most gracious, my Lord. It was the child of whom I was thinking. Such a weak vessel for so much power."

"You ask all the right questions, Severus." The Dark Lord swept past him, circling the boy's form; "When one calls upon the powers, they can only be harnessed for a limited period before they must be released or bound. For to hold onto the powers after the sacrifice has been made – in this case, the death of Alice Longbottom, triggered the deliverance of the powers, into the vessel of her husband, for it was he who saw to my disappearance some years ago. _Not this boy_." He paused, to eye the body with distain; "And the father's sacrifice led to the transferring of said powers to their only son. And to hold onto the powers leads to the destruction of the mind, as is the case with Black magic, of which we are all more familiar. In the case of blood magic, particularly in this case, the destruction is accelerated and, so, it is required that the powers are bound – as dear Augusta Longbottom saw to for Neville Longbottom these past few years – or released back to the ancestors.

"Upon release; the powers of the holder are offered up as imbursement."

"Then, the Longbottoms chose to sacrifice their own magic to save their son?" Lucius Malfoy said, staring at the boy, looking every inch as if he would be more than willing to do the same for his own child.

"Indeed. Love does have the ability to make people act in the most nonsensical of ways."

_Didn't it just._

"And so now you know, my friends. And, with the 'threat' of the Longbottoms finally dealt with – a far longer task than I had anticipated – we can now commence. Rabastian, deal with this." He waved a hand at Neville Longbottom; "Tastefully, if you will. But ensure that the message is clear."

It was.

With the attack on the Order this evening and, now, the murder of Neville Longbottom – the prophecy child – the Dark Lord had made his grand entrance back into the forefront of the Wizarding World.

War had begun.


	30. November 1987: Checkmate

"You do realise you're missing your own party."

Regulus glanced up as Severus stepped into the office.

The younger man gave him a lop-sided smile and shrugged; "Well, there is only so much fawning over me I can take. Not every day you get brought back from the dead. I ought to tell them all the credit belongs to you and then you can share my burden."

"Ah. It is an honour to serve, as always."

Regulus snorted, holding up a bottle of firewhiskey, and Severus inclined his head; _why not?_

Well, he really oughtn't. Not because a glass of firewhiskey was a great deal in the longer run but because, in Regulus' case, it was a slippery slope. Already Severus had heard the tell-tale moans and groans coming through the other man's bedroom door, deep into the night; the sounds of muffled laughter and women's voices.

When the excitement was wearing off, back when everything was still relatively new, and the consequences of what choosing the Dark Lord actually meant began to sink in, he and Regulus sought to dull the truth of their reality by drowning themselves in the pleasures of sex and alcohol; surrounding themselves with booze and loose women.

The women, Regulus particularly enjoyed, but then he always had done; Evelyn getting pregnant right at the heart of the war a testament to his lack of restraint. Severus actually marvelled that it was _only_ Evelyn who had wound up pregnant, half-expecting a flock of unclaimed offspring to come crawling out of the woodwork when Regulus' status began to rise with the Foundation.

Regulus had played women as if they were a game. He loved the chase. The Challenge. It was always someone new – before Evelyn presented him with a son, he never went with the same woman twice – and it was always the same nonsense he would sprout out, a word about the constellations and the stars – his fast-track ticket into their knickers – followed by whisperings in the ears, until he had eventually dragged his conquest out to the nearest alley for a quick fuck.

Returning with a big, triumphant smirk.

Mission complete.

After potentially _hours_ of game-playing, that is. Regulus once spent four separate nights attempting to get one particularly hard-to-get woman to sleep with him. They called her 'the Big One'. Yes, they were idiots.

Severus hated the chase. For him, the sooner the skirt came up, the better. Four days? Perish the thought. Even four hours was too long to spend on one woman. While Regulus liked to rack up the numbers, Severus' own self-imposed challenge had been to see how quickly he could make sex happen using as little time and words as possible – and he found it far easier to accomplish his own mission by sticking to the same conquest for multiple encounters. In such cases, sometimes words were not necessary at all – though Regulus claimed that only the first meetings counted. So, six words it was.

He'd had quite the triumphant smirk of his own _that_ night.

Of course, his own methods had their disadvantages. Regulus set the women loose after the first go. By sticking around, Severus had often found himself in the less-than-pleasant situation of having to wiggle his way out of ' _the questions'_ ; what were his intentions? Did he have a girlfriend? Was _she_ his girlfriend? How did he feel about marriage? _Children_?

Or, the most dreaded question of all; do you love me?

Severus had only let a situation get that far once and it had been after the war, in Italy, and he had been so baffled by the onslaught that he could do nothing but stare. And, apparently, that meant 'yes'; so that had been a bit of a muddle and he was glad to head back to England a few weeks later with a simple 'farewell'. No declarations of love or promises for the future.

Severus had given that part of himself away a long time before.

"I would have thought you'd be out there working your… _magic_ ," Severus lifted his glass to his lips.

Regulus chucked, waving a hand; "It is probably better I don't alienate the clients. And employees are 'forbidden'."

Severus gave him a smirk, though there was a sheepishness to it, both acutely aware of the reasons that particular rule came about; "So they are."

"Not that it's stopping you, of course."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"What are you doing, Sev?" Regulus suddenly looked serious, even if his eyes were twinkling; "I mean, seriously? I was gone two months and, still, you haven't made your move?"

"I can't imagine what you mean."

"Just go for it."

"As you say, it would be 'forbidden'," Severus said, with a raise of the eyebrow, his own lips twitching.

Regulus was chuckling; "Like that would stop you."

"I take my role at the Foundation very seriously."

"So I noticed. Thank you." Severus met Regulus' eyes at the sincerity; "For reopening."

"It was not only me."

"You just had to do most of the work?"

"It was no great inconvenience," Severus stated, dismissively, feeling uncomfortable under the warm praise, and directed the conversation away when Regulus began to pour himself another glass – Severus had barely even touched his own; "Do you think another is wise? What if he were to call?"

Regulus met his eyes, allowing the glass to fill further; "All the more reason."

Severus shot him a disapproving look; "We are not teenagers anymore, Regulus. He will expect us to conduct ourselves as men, not boys. It is not as amusing when grown men show up in a drunken stupor." And then Regulus laughed at the reminder that, yes, when they had been teenagers the Dark Lord had unexpectedly called upon them when they were engaged in their own illicit activities and both had shown up at their master's feet half-cut and almost wetting themselves – out of fear or overly-full bladders, one was left to wonder.

The Dark Lord had been amused. But he had punished them extensively all the same. Unfortunately, even the effects of alcohol were not enough to dull the agony of the Cruciatus.

"I doubt the Dark Lord needs any further cause for amusement right now. He's still rejoicing over the defeat of the Longbottom boy," Regulus stated, as he capped the bottle. Severus averted his eyes, feeling a stab of guilt shoot through him at the reminder of the fate of the Longbottoms. A casualty of _his_ mistakes. Though he would not allow himself drown in the regret and lose control, as he feared Regulus was on the brink of doing.

"Is it Harry Potter?"

"No." Severus felt himself grown tense.

"It has to be someone."

"Yes. And the Dark Lord killed him. For now, he is satisfied that the prophecy has been dealt with and that he has emerged victorious –"

"He has asked Lucius to scale the ins-and-outs of the Department of Mysteries."

Severus pursed his lips together at the statement. And then he spoke coolly; "I have heard nothing of it."

"It was Lucius who told me this evening. Apparently Dumbledore's silence on the matter is considered 'curious'."

"Did he expect fireworks? We shall just have to see to it that he doesn't get his hands on the prophecy."

"The prophecy would reveal it, if it is truly Longbottom –"

"And if it isn't?" Severus' tone was clipped.

Regulus met his eyes and Severus was sure his friend caught a glimpse of desperation in his own expression; even if Severus would normally force himself to conceal it, he allowed a little to shine through in this instance, knowing that Regulus would respond in kind.

"Then he won't know of it." Regulus finally said, lifting the glass to his lips, and taking a long drink.

Severus drew in a breath, eyes lowering. He had thought the matter of that damn prophecy was dealt with.

"I have to inform the Order."

"You risk Lucius by doing so."

Severus closed his eyes. He risked Lily by not.

"It is my own cover that would come under threat. I would see to that."

"I thought our highest priority was to 'protect the spies'."

"Priorities shift."

When Severus lifted his eyes, he expected to see disapproval. Concern. But, instead, when he met Regulus' eyes they were understanding. Warm. And his friend smiled and nodded; "So they do."

Severus said nothing. The turn of conversation treading on the brink of sentimentality for the second time and he shied away from it; lifted his glass to his lips and finished off what was left, pushing the empty glass in Regulus' direction for a refill.

Regulus poured, not looking at him as he spoke; "I kept Evelyn away. You remember?"

Severus didn't respond. Though, yes, he remembered very well. Regulus had loved her but his regret, his remorse over the past made him shy away; keep her at distance. Never able to give her what she needed.

And then she died.

"I didn't deserve her. I know that. But, in the end, that didn't matter." Regulus capped the bottle, when Severus' glass was filled. He drew in a breath; "She died. And she didn't know. She didn't know how much I…" Regulus hesitated and Severus thought he might look at him but he didn't and Severus was relieved. This conversation was way beyond his own comfort zone and he wasn't even the one speaking.

"Of my regrets – and, you know, I have a _lot_ of them – that's the one. The one that kills me the most."

And then Regulus did meet his eyes; the look in them was haunted and Severus felt a chill run through him.

And then it was gone; the twinkle was back and his friend gave him a shrug and cocked an eyebrow. Game-playing Regulus shining through, as the look he gave Severus seemed to say; _your move._

When Severus neither said nor did anything in response, Regulus lifted his glass, a silent toast. To what, Severus didn't know, but he lifted his own anyway and then downed the liquid in one gulp. Glad of the burn.

Regulus held his look a further moment, looking thoughtful, and then he let his arm fall back to the desk; his empty glass hitting the woodwork with the sound of a gavel and then he stood; "Well. We've been cooped up here long enough, I think. Back to the party?" They stood.

"It's a fundraiser."

"I thought it was a 'Regulus Black is Back' celebration?"

"Sometimes, Regulus, you remind me very much of your brother."

Regulus slapped him on the back and laughed.

* * *

Severus had swept out of the fundraiser almost immediately after their talk in the office.

Off to Dumbledore.

Regulus wasn't surprised.

In fact, what did surprise him was that Severus hadn't left immediately upon learning the information; the Department of Mysteries was next. The Dark Lord was, evidently, still not entirely satisfied that the prophecy had been dealt with.

Severus just couldn't catch a break.

Regulus glanced across the room, spotting Lily Potter in the distance, engaged in conversation with some of their co-workers. Smiling brightly, chatting animatedly, but, every now and then, her expression would become distracted and her eyes would flit across the room, as if searching for something.

Someone.

Regulus felt a smile tug; he was pretty certain he knew who that someone was.

One of the runners tapped her on the shoulder, holding out a folded note to her.

 _A love letter from Severus, perhaps?_ Regulus snickered at his thoughts.

"Why, Mr Black. Who'd have thought I'd find you here?"

Regulus glanced up at the voice, one he recognised, and found himself under the playful eyes of Mrs Potter's lively friend; "Miss Bradbury."

"Julia."

"Regulus."

"Right. So, tell me, Regulus; how is it that you have managed to escape the pawing of your peers? I saw you surrounded by well-wishers, not so long ago."

"Well, there is only so much pawing a man can take."

"Is that right?" Her eyes twinkled.

Regulus let his eyes drift, from her eyes down a bit further, shameless but hey, and then he gave his eyebrows a playful lift; "I suppose it depends on who's doing the pawing."

Julia laughed, shaking her head in mock offence, and glanced away, eyes on the dancefloor; "Do you dance?" She met his eyes, expectantly.

"I do. But not tonight." Or ever again. Hopkins could be watching this very moment. Spies anywhere. He knew how people infiltrated; he was a snake himself. And he didn't doubt that Hopkins had some loyalists, sympathisers of his own, within these very walls.

"Is that due to a lack of inclination…or simply disinterest?"

Regulus met Julia's eyes at the forwardness. And then he grinned. Perhaps Lily Potter ought to take some tips from this girl.

"Definitely not the latter, Miss Bradbury."

Julia's smile widened and then she pulled up the stool next to him, taking a seat, and lifted a finger in the direction of the barman; a drink.

Regulus watched her.

For a moment, his mind flittered over thoughts about the constellations and the stars; the well-rehearsed spiel on the tip of his tongue. And then brown eyes met his, a cheekiness in the expression, and Regulus pushed those thoughts away.

Well. Maybe not _this_ time.

* * *

"It seems your inaction has appeared suspicious."

"Inaction, Severus? Would you have preferred I had acted on your recommendations and sent Harry Potter underground, when your master is quite clearly watching my every move?"

Severus glowered at the old man, but Dumbledore carried on, regardless; "The very fact that he seeks to learn the full truth of the prophecy demonstrates to us his uncertainty. Had he truly believed Harry Potter to be of interest he would have acted immediately. I assume he had assigned no one with the task of finding him yet? His interest no doubt stems from further doubts with relation to Neville Longbottom."

"Who is dead! If he doubts that the prophecy has been dealt with in its entirety, then it is to be expected that his next point of interest will be –"

"Further action will only force him in that direction, as you well know. For now, the wards and protective spells are sufficient. So far there have been no breaches, am I right? I know Lily Potter and yourself speak often and that she comes to you for advice. Be careful of your partiality, Severus, it leads you to recklessness. And the last thing Lily needs is to be influenced by your fears."

"My _fears_? My logic, Headmaster!"

"By all means, Severus, take it upon yourself to protect them, if you think your actions will prove successful. Though I strongly advise against it."

A knock at the door sounded and both men turned at the intrusion; an expected one. Sirius Black, followed by Lupin and then Lily walked into the room.

Black rolled his eyes when he caught sight of Severus.

"Ah. Mrs Potter! It was my expectation that you may wish to sit this one out."

"Sit this one out?" Lily repeated, looking immensely curious; "Is that why I didn't receive a message of my own tonight?"

"I did not want to interrupt the festivities. I was under the impression you were to be in attendance at the Foundation this evening."

"I was. Remus sent me the message; we assumed that was the reason I didn't receive a patronus call."

Lupin and Black sat down on the two chairs further from Severus; Lily made to take the seat next to him and met his eyes as she lowered herself into the chair but he adverted them and that was enough to alert her. Her gaze hardened as she turned back to Dumbledore; "What's going on?"

Dumbledore glanced in Severus' direction and he could have sworn the old man actually looked exasperated for a second, before his day to day persona resumed and he calmly answered.

"It seems that there is an attack to be expected at the Department of Mysteries. Possibly this very night. The Order has already been dispatched to await a possible strike, though the exact details of it are currently unknown. However, upon its commencement, there is a specific task I wished to assign to yourselves, Mr Black and Mr Lupin."

Dumbledore related it to them; they were to guard or, if already taken, infiltrate the Hall of Prophecy, find the Keeper, if possible – as the Order has been unable to them locate so far, having no clue who it is due to the secrecy surrounding his post – and take him to a secure location while the attack took place.

"You expect me to sit this one out, Professor?" Lily met the Headmaster's look evenly, daring him to try her. She connected the dots, quickly.

Dumbledore returned the look, seeming unfazed by her defiance, and then he tilted his chin downwards; "It is in the best interest of all involved that you remain anonymous."

"What's with all this cryptic mumbo-jumbo?" Sirius interrupted; "Why does Lily need to be anonymous?"

Dumbledore straightened; "For the reason I am about to impart. I suppose I needn't ask, for Lily seems to think that holding this over my head will lead to me conceding to her demands, but I shall do so, anyway. I wonder if either of you are aware of the reasons behind Neville Longbottom's death?"

"Because Voldemort is a sick son of a bitch, that's why."

"Perhaps an accurate description in the more general sense, Mr Black, but in this matter, he did have motive."

"Motive?" Remus Lupin spoke up; "To kill a boy?"

"To kill a boy," Dumbledore conceded; "Before Neville Longbottom was born a prophecy was made, claiming that the child would have the capability to defeat him. Since then, Voldemort has made it a priority to eliminate the threat. For now, he wishes to seek confirmation of his success."

"What threat could a little kid have been to him?" Black frowned; "He's been after the Longbottoms since before he disappeared. Neville was just a ba –" He broke off as logic, quite shockingly, began to knit the pieces together for him.

But Lupin beat him to it; "He was after Lily and James as well."

"So we believed, Mr Lupin."

There was a silence. The information sinking in. To Severus, it seemed to take forever. Thick skulls and all that.

"Harry?" Lupin's voice was a whisper.

Dumbledore only inclined his head.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Black suddenly rounded on Severus, eyes flashing; "I told you! Anything to do with Harry's safety –"

"Severus is aware of all these particulars, Mr Black. And as _you_ are aware, Severus is our spy within Voldemort's ranks, as such it is prudent to include him in our discussion for it is through him that we have learned of his intentions. While the Order will be dispatched to deal with this attack, only you two –"

"Three," Lily interrupted.

"Very well – three – shall know the true purpose behind it. It is imperative that he does not get his hands upon the prophecy.

"As I have explained to Severus, the prophecies can only be lifted by those who are subject to its contents. Which is none of you. And to lift it from its stand will afflict anyone unconnected with a most undesirable fate. My advice to all of you in this matter is simple; do not attempt to remove the prophecy."

"Why doesn't Voldemort just go and take it himself?" Black demanded; "He's a subject of it."

"Considering the Ministry's current lock down upon anything related to the Dark Arts in response to Neville Longbottom's murder, I believe it is Voldemort's intention to be cautious. While the prophecies are placed under magical protection in order to prevent them being lifted, the stipulation that they can be removed by those to whom they pertain is a Ministry-invoked one. Meaning, there is a chance that they could adapt the magic, so as to deny Voldemort the access to it. Or, indeed, if that is not possible; they may have placed an entirely new protective measure upon it, to the same effect. Those in the Ministry are bound to be aware of its interest to him, as such they may use it as a means to lure and disable him. A big risk for him, I presume, especially when one considers that he only wishes to seek reassurances, and one he does not seem willing to take; his sanity."

"What sanity?" Black ground out.

Severus felt his lips twitch; for once in agreement with the man.

"It is my belief that the less people who know of the existence of the prophecy, the better. Voldemort's ignorance remains our advantage; we do not want to give him reason to doubt his accomplishment. Considering your own interest in this matter, I know you will treat this task with upmost importance and discretion." Dumbledore pushed on; "The other Order members will be under the impression that the Ministry itself is under attack, whereas your focus will be more localised –"

"I don't understand," Remus interrupted; "If the prophecy can only be lifted by Neville Longbottom, and he isn't willing to touch it himself, why is Voldemort going after it now? No other can lift it."

"Not entirely accurate; it is possible that Voldemort has learned the identity of the Keeper, which leads me to believe he – or she – is the focus of the endeavour."

The Dark Mark suddenly burned and Severus almost flinched at the intensity of it.

Severus stood; "The attack is imminent." And, with that, he turned and swept from the room, leaving Dumbledore to impart the necessary information to the others while he went to the Dark Lord's side.

* * *

Regulus tugged the waistband of his trousers back up over his hips, reaching for each end of his belt as his eyes drifted up the bare back of the woman in front of him.

A hand reached around, trying to catch the zipper with her fingers; "Need a hand?"

Julia glanced over her shoulder at him, face flushed but that teasing smile was back, and she raised an eyebrow; "He takes the clothes off _and_ he puts them back on? Colour me impressed."

Regulus' grinned as he finished off fastening his belt, stepping forward to pull the zipper up, and reached for the bolero that had been tossed carelessly onto his desk when he'd removed it, holding it up between them.

"Thank you." She mock-curtsied with a smile and took it from him, simply holding it in a hand and left to dangle at her side.

Regulus kept his eyes on her. He was pretty well accustomed to the aftermath of these encounters, so much so that it was rarely awkward for him anymore.

Julia seemed just as unfazed as he, only tilting a head to the side under his scrutiny; "Well, Mr Black? What's it to be? A calling card? Or shall we just call it a night?"

Regulus smiled.

And then the Dark Mark burned.

Searing, hot and deep; the battle cry.

Ah.

Fantastic.

"Hm." Julia was grinning.

Regulus frowned. He actually felt guilty; "I'm sorry, I –"

"Hey, don't sweat it, Black. You were an itch. You've been scratched." Julia gave him a wink and then she turned and swept from the room.

Regulus watched her go but the second the door clicked shut behind her, he turned, heading for the office exit into the courtyard.

Off to war, it seemed.

Ah well. Not a bad send off, if he did say so himself.

* * *

By the time the three of them reached the Ministry, the battle was already well underway, the Order members who had been dispatched prior ready and waiting for the onslaught.

As such, they were able to take the Death Eaters off-guard, an ambush of their own this time, and Lily briefly wondered how they would explain away the forewarning that the Order had received. Obviously, it had been Severus that had warned them. Wouldn't them lying in wait, so clearly aware of the details, only serve to give him away? Put him in danger?

Lily didn't have time to consider it further, the thought fleeting, for at the moment her concern was focused entirely upon the task at hand. Keeping the prophecy from getting into Voldemort's hands.

The damn thing had caused her no end of grief for the past seven years, even before she knew of its existence.

Sirius and Remus had asked question after question on the way to the Ministry, both realising from Dumbledore's words that she had known of the threat to Harry and they wanted to know more. But she could offer them nothing, the knowledge she had acquired from Severus so limited and the small amount of information she'd received from Dumbledore the same as what he had imparted at their meeting.

There was a prophecy claiming a boy had the power to defeat Voldemort. And he would decide which one it was.

Remus placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to lower herself, as the three of them crept into the building; easily unseen due to the chaos going on a few feet away. The Department of Mysteries, level nine. Lily had never even been to the building before; James had dealt with the registering both of their marriage and, later, Harry's birth and no other occasion had arisen for her to so.

But, she could see, they were almost there, at the corridors that would lead them to where they needed to be. Almost. And then, Peter Pettigrew suddenly appeared before them.

Who they all now knew, had been willing to give up Harry to that monster.

"You son of a bitch!"

Sirius saw red.

Hell, they all did, but Sirius was the one who lunged for him; forgetting to even draw his wand for a second, as a fist collided with the man's jaw. The physical attack over a magical one gave Peter the advantage, however, as his own wand was already drawn for battle and he easily sent Sirius flying with a spell of his own.

Remus retaliated. And their cover was blown; suddenly they were under the attack of the nearby Death Eaters, as they took in the appearance of the three newcomers.

" _Einlatus!"_

Lily didn't hold back. All restraint she had demonstrated during her practice duels with Severus gone, in light of the reality of war, of their circumstances; just as she had told him it would, when he had teased her about her going easy on him. It was far easier to lose control when you despised the people you were cursing, after all, particularly when their sole aim was to deliver an item to a madman who would most definitely respond by trying to kill her son.

" _Crucio!"_

Lily hit the ground, a scream on her lips; her furious thoughts causing her to lose control, her focus for a minute. Severus had warned her of that, also, told her to block out emotions, do not be driven by them. As the Cruciatus was lifted, she flung a curse their way.

Flashes of light from her own wand joined the others in the room; her incantations cried out, alongside the others. It was as if the war had never ended. Everything was familiar.

And yet, it wasn't. Her motives for being here now were entirely different.

Harry.

And she and Remus and Sirius were allowing themselves to get distracted; they had a task and the task directly affected her son. Fighting here, in the Ministry corridors, when the object of their protection remained nine floors above was insane.

Action in this case got her nowhere.

Brains over brawn. Stop being a Gryffindor. She was sure someone had said _that_ to her before.

So, when she took down her next opponent, she used the opportunity to duck behind the nearest cover she could locate; " _Stupefy_!" she hissed, quietly as possible, but with just as much feeling as it would have been if she had cried it, bringing down a Death Eater who came upon her.

If the men she'd come with were unable to join her in the endeavour, she'd just have to go up there herself.

So she did.

Although much easier said than done; for she was certain it took almost twenty minutes just for her to finally reach the twelves doors that Dumbledore had spoken of. And, now, it was a guessing game of which one was the chamber she sought, stepping through the first cautiously, expecting Death Eaters to be waiting at every turn.

A second door.

A third.

A fourth.

All of them wrong.

Until she, finally, stepped through the fifth and there they were, just as Dumbledore had said; every surface covered with clocks. A bell jar, casting flickering light across the room. The time turners. She didn't have time to marvel at it, the surreal atmosphere; seeking the access that Dumbledore had spoken of, cautiously passing through into the Hall of Prophecy.

Lily clutched her wand tight in her hand, expecting to be attacked immediately, but there were no Death Eaters on guard. She supposed the Order's ambush had thwarted their plans.

But she couldn't take that for granted, casting a quiet _'lumos'_ as her eyes carefully scanned the room, any places where a Death Eater could be hiding; lying in wait and ready to strike.

God, she was becoming more paranoid with every year that went by.

And no wonder.

Lily had not been oblivious to the meaning behind Dumbledore's words back in the office. She immediately noticed Severus' unconcealed concern during the brief glance they had shared. Dumbledore's warning was unspoken but, to her, it was clear as day; Voldemort may believe that Neville Longbottom was the child the prophecy referred to but Dumbledore _didn't_.

Otherwise, he would simply let Voldemort take the prophecy; why not? After all, if it _was_ the Longbottoms there was no longer anything for him nothing to lose, the family already having been lost, murdered, _massacred_ , and Dumbledore failing in his endeavours to help them.

When no assault was forthcoming, Lily allowed her guard to drop slightly, only enough for her to take in the room before her; shivering against the cold as she did. But the thousands of lights shimmering within the orbs that lined the towering shelves almost made her jaw drop, as she took in the sight; allowed herself a second just to marvel.

This room holding the future of thousands.

Including her own. If her suspicions regarding Voldemort were correct.

But the second to marvel, to stand in simple awe, was fleeting; she had a purpose; a mission.

Not only the one Dumbledore had assigned, though she did as he had instructed, keeping her eyes open; on the lookout for the Keeper whom he had spoken of.

But to find the prophecy he had spoken of. And _destroy_ it.

And so she set about looking for it; the prophecy that Voldemort sought. The prophecy that endangered her son.

It took forever.

It seemed to.

There was no order to the way the orbs were stored at all. Everything was random and numerous and bright. She made her way down the rows, eyes scanning, looking for the name. For Voldemort. Longbottom. Potter. Feeling as if she were in a dream, or a nightmare, surrounded as she turned on the spot in some places, seeking it.

Remembered, briefly, that it was the Keeper she should be looking for. Only he could lift the prophecy.

Or Neville. Or Voldemort. So Dumbledore wanted her to believe.

The room was deathly silent; she could not even hear a sound from the battle that she knew raged just beyond the walls of the chamber. Just she in here, alone in the silence, with the prophecies and the answers that Dumbledore sought to keep from her.

The orbs began to blur into one another, the inscriptions becoming unfocused, as she hurriedly tried to go through them all. An impossible task; she would never find it in here. The whole thing made the term needle in a haystack sound laughable; how about a grain of sand in the universe?

She almost missed it. It was so inconspicuous; exactly the same as all the others. It didn't even have her son's name on it. Or Voldemort. Or Longbottom. Nothing seemingly special about it at all, as she had stepped down the aisle that held it, eyes finally finding it.

Except, that this little orb had the power to destroy her son's life.

A simple inscription hung from the stand;

 _S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D  
Dark Lord.  
_.?.  
1980. _  
_

Do not attempt to remove the prophecy.

Dumbledore had been clear. To touch it when it did not pertain to you would mean instant affliction with madness.

It most definitely didn't pertain to her. Staring at the inscription, Lily was left to wonder at it, for it seemed to be connected to no one but 'the Dark Lord'; neither Harry nor Neville's name graced the little tag that hung from it.

Lily wasn't an idiot.

Neville had been killed almost two weeks previously. There was no reason for the inscription not to read his name. Unless, that is, his death had occurred prior to a fulfilment of the contents within it; unless it was not possible for it to have been him.

Which only meant –

"Well, well. Mrs James Potter." A low laugh sounded from her side and Lily spun to face the masked Death Eater than had come upon her; "I'm going to enjoy _this_."

She tightened her grip on her wand, taking a step back, only to feel the distinct sensation of a wand press firmly against the small of her back.

"Don't move."

Lily frowned, even as panic shot through her. She knew the voice but she couldn't place it. But she couldn't dwell on that, even think about it right now; that she knew, yet another, of the Death Eaters, particularly when they were going to stand here and watch her be killed in a moment, if more of them started appearing.

She gripped her wand tighter.

* * *

This was bad.

This was a fucking _nightmare_.

Regulus watched as Lily Potter raised her wand slightly, as she stood face to face with Mulciber, his own wand pressed to her back.

Could he just 'stupefy' her? Would Mulciber let it be?

No. He wouldn't.

Regulus had taken this post to protect the prophecy. To be there, ensure there was no way the Dark Lord would learn of its contents, by whatever means necessary. Severus seemed to think it was imperative that he never know, which seemed to imply hope; that Harry Potter was the child who would defeat him.

Not that Severus would consider it hope, of course, considering the circumstances. The boy was the child of the woman he loved, so obviously there was a conflict of interest. And Severus, he knew, thought that prophecies and the like were a bunch of nonsense; no way could the future be predicted.

Regulus, however, thought differently. Perhaps growing up in a household of constellation worshipers had done it. But divination, while not something he tended to focus much time on, for Regulus' mind always seemed entirely lost in the past, wasn't something to be scoffed at.

If Neville Longbottom was truly the one with the power and he had been killed, then what chance did they have? Especially, considering the methods the Longbottoms' had resorted to; they _had_ the power to defeat him. They did. And he was revived, anyway. And would be again and again and again until the horcruxes were found.

Maybe Harry Potter was the key to it all.

Nevertheless, his and Severus' goal was the same; the Dark Lord must never know.

He would learn of it when Harry Potter struck him down, once and for all.

Though there were more pressing matters for him to focus on right now.

Regulus had not counted on Lily Potter showing up.

Dumbledore's orders had always been clear, just as he had said to Severus earlier that night; 'protect the spies' at all costs. Their lives superseded any of those within the Order because they were of more value to him. Those hadn't, exactly, been Dumbledore's words when he had spoken to him of it, of course. The old man was not so crass; he tended to conceal his more questionable instructions behind a smile and a _suggestion_ rather than coming right out and saying it.

But, said it with suggestion his old Headmaster had; if he were to ever find himself in a situation where he would have to blow his cover to save someone, don't do it. There was a bigger picture to consider. The Greater Good.

_Easy for you to say, Old Man, sitting behind your big fancy desk._

But now wasn't the time for bitterness; how was he going to get Lily Potter out of _this_?

" _Impedimenta_!"

She struck first and it was blocked, swiftly, and another curse sent her way. She blocked it and as she did, she thrust an elbow back upwards and got Regulus in the nose.

He yowled, pathetically, reaching up to grasp at it as it bled; not expecting it, having not been at all in attack-mode himself.

"What the fuck are you doing, Regulus?" Mulciber rounded on him, when he made no move to assist in attacking her.

Thank Merlin, he'd said his name. Maybe she'd react to it. Know to back up; come this way. He'd let her through. He'd help her.

She did. She backed up, careful to shoot a curse his way as she did – keep up appearances, he hoped that's all it was, at the distinctive slice through the skin of his shoulder as ' _sectumsempra'_ escaped her lips. It was restrained, not enough to do real damage and probably the better of the options, under the circumstances. She couldn't jinx him into a body bind or a confundus, after all.

She needed him upright.

But, he had to keep up appearances also, and so he lifted his wand and fired a curse in her direction; careful to direct it a little too far to the left so that it missed. It struck two orbs, sending them to the ground, and when they smashed apparitions floated out of each of them, speaking two different statements, simultaneously, which he hadn't expected.

Nor had anyone, for the spectacle drew the attention of Lily Potter and Mulciber also, but she recovered fast and fired a curse in Mulciber's direction, all but forgetting about him behind her.

But, really, she had to at least make a _suggestion_ of fear that there were two of them there; just as the thought came to his mind, he was suddenly struck with a stinging jinx right up his left arm. And he almost scowled at her. In fact, he thought he did but thankfully his mask concealed the indignation.

He fired a jinx her way, careful to miss her again.

"You're fucking useless, Black!" Mulciber snarled, as he engaged her with ferocity; " _Crucio!"_

Lily's scream filled the room and Regulus cringed; someone would hear. They would come. They'd all come and she'd be dead.

But she struck back, getting Mulciber with a ' _sectumsempra',_ right across the torso, and he stumbled back and the Cruciatus lifted.

She didn't hesitate, firing another jinx in Regulus' direction, and then engaged Mulciber once again.

Their spells fired forth rapidly but, if Regulus _had_ been her enemy, there was no doubt they would have easily floored her by now. Particularly considering that she often presented her back to him, a dead giveaway, and Regulus was beginning to realise his feigned attempts at bringing her down were not quite hitting the mark.

His reluctance was obvious.

Suddenly, Lily struck Mulciber with a spell that sent him several feet backwards, landing on the floor with a thud but she didn't react or run at the sight, her attention turning to the prophecy on the shelf that she had been inspecting upon discovery and she directed her wand at it and Regulus frowned as light fired forth, striking the orb and sending it tumbling from its holder.

All three watched as it tumbled to the ground, smashing instantly on impact as the others had done before it, and the apparition appeared. Mulciber quickly scrambled closer, tearing his mask from his face when he was close enough to hear the words of the destroyed prophecy before it was lost forever; relay it to the Dark Lord through his memories, if not in physical form.

" _The one with the power to vanquish –"_

Lily lifted her wand again – " _Expelliarmus!"_ torn from Mulciber's lips sending it flying – and Regulus understood.

Regulus shot a curse, as if to hit Lily, and then fired a following one on its heels, a quiet ' _confringo',_ that blew up the shelf behind them, sending he and Lily to the floor, arms up to protect themselves against the sudden crashing of the woodwork that came down upon them, along with all the surviving prophecies; each of them smashing upon impact and their own individual predictions filling the air, alongside the offending one that needed to be protected, the object of their mission.

And in the commotion, there was no chance that the words could be heard.

Not even if the Dark Lord were to burst into their minds with the full force of his legilliemency and attempt to hear the words for himself.

" _You idiot_!" Mulciber roared, rounding on him.

Lily Potter met his eyes across the floor, her gratitude palpable, and he forced himself to look away, focus on the fact that Mulciber looked quite ready to _slaughter_ him in that moment.

Regulus bounced up onto his feet, gave a chuckle and shrug, speaking with the same nonchalance he would do as a teenager; "Come on, man. He called me out of my coming home party. Can't help it if I've had a few drinks."

Mulciber glared at him, murderously.

 _Both_ would feel the full force of their master's fury. Both would suffer the Cruciatus. Perhaps, even, the killing curse for their incompetence.

Mulciber rounded on Lily Potter, suddenly, filled with rage as she grasped for her disarmed wand and began to flip herself over; too slow. Vulnerable. Not a chance at defending herself.

Screw Dumbledore's orders.

" _Avada keda-"_

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Mulciber's wand flew several feet into the air.

A deathly silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of the thin wooden object hitting the stone ground.

Mulciber followed it with his eyes, rounding to face Regulus the second that it did, with eyes that expressed shock, confusion and _further rage;_ "What the _hell_?"

"We need her alive," Regulus declared.

"Why?"

_Why, you ask? Good question._

Killing as many Order members as possible was part of the mission, also.

Regulus' mind went blank; there was no way he could talk his way out of this.

Mulciber's eyes flashed with realisation.

Of course they did. Many of the other Death Eaters had been suspicious of him, some of them for years, because of the Foundation.

And now, Mulciber knew the truth.

Regulus raised his wand as Mulciber spun, lunging for his own, and the quick movement meant that Regulus' spell only just missed him and then Lily Potter sprung to action and sent a further curse his way. And, suddenly, the room was filled with lights and further smashes and the murmured voices of the prophecies joined their cries. This time the attacks were ferocious, now that Lily and Regulus were not holding back the impact of their own spells.

The _noise_ , Merlin, if the others hadn't heard her screams before, they would certainly hear _this._

Lily was using a mix of jinxes and curses; _'sectumsempra', 'einlatus', 'impedimenta', 'stupefy'_.

But surely she knew; there was no way. It had to be done. It had to.

For them both.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Lily disarmed him, when they finally managed to overpower him, their attacks coming together, too fast for him to repel them both.

The door to the room burst open, just as the curse left Regulus' lips;

" _Avada kedavra!"_

Mulciber fell to the ground; dead.

Peter Pettigrew stood in the doorway.

Eyes locked on Regulus.

Regulus did not look in Lily's direction; she was concealed behind the shelves. He willed her, silently, to remain so. Don't let him see you. Otherwise, this was all for nothing.

Regulus lifted his wand, swift in his movements, and Pettigrew did the same; Regulus firing a curse in the insufferable man's direction, another killing curse – it came so easy to his lips that it sickened him – and Pettigrew turned his wand on himself and, suddenly, the man was no more.

And a rat went running from the clothes that piled, escaping Regulus' further curses that he fired at the creature, as Regulus raced to the doorway; failing in his endeavours.

Catching sight of it as he reached the doorframe.

The rat escaped through a hole in the wall.

Back to the Dark Lord.

Regulus could do nothing but run.


	31. November 1987: Deception

Regulus forced himself to calm down.

Walk.

Don't run.

Strode, as if with purpose, passing other Death Eaters that didn't even give him a second look, back down the corridor that led to the twelve doors, searching for the nearest exit. He could not be caught running. Not yet.

What did Pettigrew know?

What would he tell the Dark Lord?

These were questions he needed to be thinking rationally about.

In the immediate minutes, his mind had just cried out; _"he knows!" "He knows!" "I'm dead!" "Run!" "Run!"_

But the true extent of his betrayal was not revealed in those ten seconds with Pettigrew. He did not know about Lily Potter in the shadows. Or the horcruxes he hunted. Or his allegiance with Dumbledore.

For now, Regulus was just an idiot who, after receiving his first call to arms, had decided – hey, I don't really want to do this anymore. I shall just forgo my task and _blow up_ the Hall of Prophecy – _with all the subtly of a blasted Gryffindor_ – blowing my own chance at getting out of the Dark Lord's Circle alive in the process and be on my merry way but, hey, it was all worth it just so the Dark Lord didn't get his hands on a prophecy he, well, didn't really _need_ in the first place.

His seeming idiocy and lack of restraint was comforting, at least, for others who would quickly come under scrutiny – for Lucius, for _Severus –_ but the little that Pettigrew _had_ seen was enough to sign Regulus' death sentence.

Why had he never considered this before? What he would do if Severus' blasted _girlfriend_ was to show up during one of his missions. His excuses, his attempts at protecting her, had been just as idiotic as his, seeming, actions; why hadn't he just told Mulciber he had wanted to shag her, first, _before_ they killed her, and then dragged her away? It wasn't as if others had not done so in the past.

But it was too late for intelligent thought, now.

Regulus was masked. Thankfully. It wouldn't take long for his master to figure it out, for the others to confirm his post when the battle concluded, but the anonymity in the meantime bought him precious time to _get the fuck out of there._

He scrambled, almost breaking into a run, when he finally caught sight of a door that led to a side stairwell, a house-elf passageway, bursting through it and, only then, when he knew he wouldn't be seen did he allow himself to speed up. Descending the stairs briskly, stumbling over some of them, as his feet struggled to meet each step for he was desperate to take them two at a time.

Down and down, until he could go no further, and he burst through another door, finding himself in the kitchens. Empty. He tore through it, seeing the door that led to the grounds. Thank _fuck_.

He burst out, eyes scanning the area, and saw nothing but he could hear the battle that still raged overhead in the Ministry.

Good. More distractions. Regulus needed all that he could get.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and when he tried to concentrate, tried to unravel the mess that had just happened in his mind, he heard the harsh pants of his own breathing coming out, evident lack of composure, or perhaps it was because now he _was_ running. Running faster than he had ever done in his life. Running _for_ his life.

By morning, he could be dead. _Would_ be dead.

A masked Death Eater suddenly appeared in front of him, as if materialising from the shadows, just as he was preparing to disapparate.

"Regulus?"

Regulus' eyes widened, and the panic he had been attempting to get under control suddenly flared up tenfold, and he grabbed the other by the arms, yanking him back into the nearest alcove, his voice a hiss; "Severus! What are you _doing_ here?"

"What is it? What happened?" Severus demanded, knowing something was wrong instantly, reaching up to yank his mask off.

"No! Leave it on!"

"Wha –"

"I'm dead!" Regulus hissed, trying to gather the thoughts he had just been having, trying to quickly impart as much information as he could to him, in the little time they had; "It's bad, it's _really_ bad. Cover blown. Life on line. Witnesses and everything!"

"Calm down!" Severus hissed, sounding anything but calm himself; "Tell me what happened."

"There's no time! He could be coming here _right now_. And what the hell are _you_ doing here? If he catches you, you're dead! We're _both_ dead –"

"Stop rambling!"

Regulus drew in a breath, forcing himself to do as Severus said and calm down. What he said was valid, Pettigrew wouldn't have stayed behind until the battle concluded, he would have gone to the Dark Lord immediately. And either he would come to them directly – _was he important enough to warrant that?_ – or they'd be getting a pretty nasty summons any second now.

He released the breath he'd drawn in, shakily, as Severus waited impatiently; "Listen. It was Pettigrew. And he knows nothing. For now, he thinks I just –", he was suddenly cackling, because this was so ludicrous he could do nothing else; "– that I just singlehandedly, _destroyed_ the prophecy, blowing up the entire chamber in the process, and then _murdered_ Mulciber. And then attempted to kill Pettigrew as well. That's it. Nothing else."

And then Regulus pulled himself free from Severus' grip, not realising how tight the hold they had on one another was until he did so; "That's all. So..." He made to disapparate.

"Regulus."

He didn't think he'd ever heard so much emotion in his friend's voice before and he glanced back, even though they couldn't see one another's faces.

Both could only see the masks.

But each knew what lay underneath. And Regulus briefly wondered if this was it, if this was the last time they'd see one another, but there was no time for sentimentality.

The only chance they both had was to get out of there. _Now_.

Regulus was about to say so.

And then the Dark Mark burned. Long and hard and the rage was apparent, even then.

Regulus released a breath, shaking his head, panic rising and his voice a harsh whisper; "Gotta go."

And then he was gone.

* * *

The battle was over.

The Death Eaters retreating as quickly as they had come.

Lily had taken cover, creeping quietly amongst the rubble left behind in the Hall of Prophecy, when the first of them had arrived. No doubt in response to the commotion that had unfolded. And she heard the voiced reactions to the one who lay dead only a few feet from the entrance; Mulciber, she had realised when the mask had been torn from his face.

He and Regulus had been friends.

He and _Severus_ had been friends. The three of them running with one another, and several others, Lily remembered, when they had all been children back at Hogwarts.

But the arriving Death Eaters had barely had the chance to investigate; barely travelled more than four or five shelf widths into the room before they had all suddenly departed without a word.

Leaving in a brisk, steady stream until she was left alone once again.

Left to unravel the muddle and face the reality of all that had just happened.

Lily walked back into the entrance chamber in a daze.

Regulus Black had saved her life.

And, now, he was going to be killed. She knew there was no other outcome for it.

She could barely even muster up a reason for why it had happened, why his cover had been blown – yes, the prophecy. Right. He had helped her. He had joined her in her goal, destroying it, and had succeeded in keeping its contents from Voldemort. But, now, the price was going to be his life.

Lily felt sick.

"Lily!" Sirius was in front of her and she felt worse when she met his eyes.

Sirius' brother had saved her life and now he was going to die.

"Sirius," she whispered, shaking her head; "We…we have to get back to Headquarters. _Now_."

He didn't ask anything else, didn't get a chance, for she strode right by him. Not even waiting to see if he was behind her. Needing to get to Dumbledore, to get to someone, _anyone_ , who could fix this.

But, she knew, there was nothing that anybody could possibly do to help Regulus Black now.

* * *

Regulus burst through the doors to Malfoy Manor, not even knocking.

There was no time for that.

"Malachi!"

"Regulus?" Narcissa stepped out from the drawing room, in a nightgown but still remarkably wide awake, considering the hour – waiting for Lucius – looking concerned; "What's wrong?"

"There's no time. Where's Malachi?"

"He's asleep –"

"Malachi!"

He tore up the stairs, no hesitation in his steps now, even as his cousin called up the stairs after him; hurrying up on his heels, panic in her voice, as she quickly realised something was very, very wrong.

"Where's Lucius?"

"He's fine!" Regulus shouted back, reaching the door to the guest room he knew Malachi frequented when he stayed there, and burst it open; his son was already out of bed, bleary eyed but obediently heading towards the door at the sound of his father's voice.

"Dad?"

Regulus seized him under the arms and turned, fleeing from the room.

There was no way he could leave his son behind. The Dark Lord would use him, use him to draw him out, and then he'd kill them both.

"Regulus!" Narcissa was still hurrying after him, the fear palpable in her voice, and then he remembered the cover; protect the innocent. Not just the spies. The innocent needed to be saved. Him coming here had the potential to make the Malfoys look as complicit in his actions as he; marking them for punishment, _death_ if the Dark Lord felt particularly murderous about it all.

He turned, hoisting Malachi up onto his hip, the rehearsed words beginning before he had even completed the full 180-degree movement; "I'm sorry, Cissy. I'm not who you think I am."

Narcissa hesitated in her footsteps, meeting his eyes with a frown, but Regulus thought he could see the realisation in her eyes. The dots coming together. His defection becoming clear.

Lucius and Narcissa had been suspicious of him for a while. But neither had put voice to their doubts.

He couldn't let her speak them now. Couldn't let her confirm it.

She had to look innocent. She and Lucius.

Or Lucius would die with him. Maybe his cousin, too. _More_ blood on his hands.

"It's okay. You'll understand soon."

"Regulus." Her voice was a whisper, with just as much emotion in it as Severus' had breathed out only minutes before.

"Bye, Cissy."

He ran.

* * *

The only sound in the mausoleum was the sound of the Dark Lord's boots on the ground.

His voice in the air.

A seeming reluctance from all others merely to _breathe_ , lest they draw on his wrath for themselves.

They all knew how it worked. Regulus was not the first to defect.

Granted, this incident was a far more dramatic declaration of defiance than had even been demonstrated before. No one, even the ones who had opted to defect outright, have ever been so fucking _stupid_ before as to do so; to behave so _brashly_.

What the hell was Regulus _thinking_? Blowing up the Hall of Prophecy! Regulus had been almost manic with panic when he had relayed it to him, outside the building, as he had prepared to run and Severus was certain there was more to the story than what he had managed to tell him.

Regulus knew better than that. He was not an idiot. And yet what had led him to behave as such was a question that plagued him and Severus couldn't help but remember the conversation that they had had, merely hours before, when he had almost _pleaded_ with his friend that the prophecy be kept from the Dark Lord's hands.

Was this why Regulus had acted so? Was the threat of the prophecy so great, had almost been delivered to their master, that he had ended up blowing his own cover in an attempt to conceal it – all because Severus had demanded it of him?

Severus forced the thoughts away; seeking blame for the current circumstances doing nothing to help the situation whatsoever.

Regulus' actions would be revealed, with time, when Severus saw him again.

He did not let himself consider any further the fleeting thought that, perhaps, he _wouldn't_.

"I have long believed –" the sinister glint in the Dark Lord's eyes belied the lazy drawl with which he spoke, "-that there has been a traitor amongst us."

The Dark Lord's movements were slow, precise, as he swept around the centre of the circle that had formed; all living Death Eaters present with the exception of one.

Regulus Black.

"Dumbledore's _Order_ being far too aware of our movements, even seven years ago, when my intentions to hunt the Longbottoms became apparent. And so, I let them believe it was Potter. And, as expected, the old man's focus had been entirely upon them. So much so, that my mission was completed with ease or, would have been so, if not for the measures they, alone, sought to take to defy me."

Severus pushed all uneasiness he felt aside; as all charges that could be laid as his feet were being laid, instead, at Regulus'. Culpability was dangerous territory when trying to maintain control.

"The boy was foolish to believe I was unaware of it. His _Foundation_ very easily giving himself away long before I had even returned to you. It was very evident that Regulus Black had turned away from us all."

Severus gathered his memories, all those that he would need, pushed them to the surface. Compartmentalising. Preparing himself. Bring the right ones to the surface. Lock the others away. Maintain composure. The Dark Lord could not be aware he was doing so.

"Though I did receive _assurances_ –" the Dark Lord's eyes were suddenly on Severus; "- that this was not the case."

Severus tensed, preparing himself, but the onslaught didn't come.

Not yet.

"Your task is simple, my friends; find me this traitor. Return him to me. Alive, if you will, for I shall not grant the pleasure of his punishment upon any other than myself."

It would be slow. Regulus would suffer. And they would all watch.

"Go." He hissed, with a wave of the hand.

The Circle began to disperse.

"Oh, and my friends?"

All froze.

"Do make a good show of it, won't you?"

Silence.

And then there were murmurs. Chuckles. Slowly nodding heads.

They made their departure.

Severus fell into step behind Lucius.

"Not. You. Severus."

Severus' blood ran cold. But he was expecting this. He knew it would come. He was Regulus' closest friend. He had vouched for him; staked his life against the other's. And, perhaps more condemningly, he was also the Dark Lord's spy within the Order, within Hogwarts, and if his master believed that Regulus had been the spy within his own circle, that it was he who had relayed all the details that Severus, himself, had done so to the Headmaster, then Severus had done the Dark Lord a _most_ gross disservice.

Even if not a traitor himself, if he could somehow manage to maintain his composure, his own cover, he had most definitely fallen short in his duties as the Dark Lord's eyes and ears upon Dumbledore.

It was very likely he would not survive to see the dawn.

"Well, Severus?"

The Dark Lord's attention was entirely upon him, now that they were alone; the atmosphere so still, so silent, that the sounds of Nagini slithering beyond his line of vision was all that could be heard when the Dark Lord ceased to speak.

"I can offer you no excuses, my Lord. My failings are…most inexplicable. Even to myself."

"Ah. Then you deny any complicity in Regulus' actions."

"Regulus' actions were foolish, my master. Most brash. Not something I would expect even from the most imbecilic of defectors."

Perhaps he was letting his own fury at the situation shine through a little bit. But it would do no harm. In this case, it may even add plausibility to his arguments.

The Dark Lord gave a low chuckle; "Fallen from your esteem so quickly, Severus?"

"He deceived me, my Lord. A friend."

"Wounded pride, I sense."

"Yes."

"And so easily deceived. Do tell me, Severus, how is it that I am supposed to put my _own_ faith in someone so easily fooled by a laugh, a smile, whose main purpose within my Circle is to deceive and fool, arguably, one of the most accomplished wizards of our age?"

Severus dipped his head; "The old man has taken me into his own circle of trust, my Lord."

"Not so much so that he was willing to reveal to you that there was another within ours." The Dark Lord's eyes blackened, suddenly, and then bore right into him; "Or _did he?"_

Severus almost stumbled backwards under the full force of the assault, as his memories were suddenly torn forth to the surface of his mind but he was ready. Had been preparing himself for it since the moment Regulus had spoken the words to him. But the Dark Lord's attack was brutal, punishing, and his mind felt like it was going to combust under the pressure as memory after memory came forth, as if in a blur. So many of them. All of himself and Regulus.

Himself and Regulus at the Foundation.

Himself and Regulus at home.

At functions and parties.

Together during Christmases at Malfoy Manor.

All flittering by; their friendship, their relationship laid bare for their master to see. But not a single instance of treacherous discussions, of questionable actions came forth; locked away in the deepest recesses of Severus' mind. The box where he kept them all; his own deceit and the complicity of those who had helped him. Regulus. Lucius. Lily was in there too. And his most questionable discussions with Dumbledore. All locked away in that little corner, which the Dark Lord had no idea existed; unable to tap upon it.

Yet.

Severus flinched, hand coming instinctively up to grasp at the side of his head, when the Dark Lord ripped himself free from his mind, violently, leaving him disorientated and unsteady in the aftermath.

It took him only seconds to recover.

And then he met the Dark Lord's eyes once again. Preparing himself. Ready for the next attack.

The Dark Lord's gaze bore back at him, his expression contemplative.

Then the red eyes glinted.

"Surely you had _suspicions_ , Severus, for your memories reveal a camaraderie which often belies a deeper understanding, a trust one might say, in one another. An amity which, perhaps, may even supersede one's own politics. Even one's own ambitions. Young Regulus never confided in the man to whom he clearly considers himself…family?"

"He did not, my Lord. If Regulus did consider himself as such, our relationship evidently did not supersede his own aspirations. But then, history has demonstrated that the Blacks are known to be more than willing to forsake even family if it means accomplishment in their own desires and endeavours. _Loyalty_ is not something the family can justifiably boast."

The Dark Lord tilted his chin down, a slow smile spreading; "You dare to speak of them in such a way, Severus? The _ancient_ and _most noble_ house?"

"I do. My own experiences, particularly this most recent one, only fortifies my assessment."

The Dark Lord made a grumbling sound, low in his chest; a laugh. And then it lengthened, becoming an approving chuckle; "You have mettle, Severus. I grant you that." The grumbled laughter continued.

Severus allowed his lips to twitch, when the Dark Lord seemed to expect him to share in the enjoyment.

Barely a minute and then the Dark Lord's amusement died away and he stared at him, once again, with that glint in his eyes that told Severus this wasn't over.

"And yet I find myself… _disappointed_ in you. _Most_ disappointed," and the Dark Lord's tone seemed to suggest that he truly was; "One of my most promising, my most well thought of and you have failed in the task to which you have so devoted yourself to, even for the past seven years, even when others within this very Circle sought to forget my legacy."

Severus lowered himself, somewhat; "I can do nothing but plead your forgiveness, my Lord. And your leniency."

"Which you know better than to do."

"Yes."

"Even if I should grant you either, Severus, there is still an unresolved matter which needs to be addressed and I know you are too gifted in your cognizance to have doubts as to what the consequences are to be."

Severus met his eyes, as the Dark Lord went on.

"I asked you if you were willing to stake your life against that of Regulus Black's and you conceded without hesitation. Your hindsight in the matter now is irrelevant. Because, Severus – and I'm sure you are aware – that when you make a deal with the devil sooner or later…he will come to collect."

The Dark Lord tilted his head to the side, his voice softening as he spoke, making Severus' hairs stand on end with the fear that suddenly gripped him because, yes, he did know. He knew very well. Words were not going to be enough; "And yet, I regret it."

With a sigh, the Dark Lord lifted his wand, pointed it in Severus' direction;

" _Crucio!"_

* * *

"We have to do something!"

"I'm afraid there is very little we can do for Regulus Black now."

Lily stood before her old Headmaster, desperation gripping her; "But he did it to save me! We can't just do nothing, Professor; they'll kill him!"

"As Mr Black was well aware when he opted to draw his wand on those within his own circle. And, as much as I may wish to offer my assistance to him, there is nothing that can be done at the present moment that will do so. For now, the boy's best chance is to go underground until tensions simmer."

"You have to do something now!" Sirius snapped; "That's my _brother,_ Dumbledore!"

"We shall conduct our own, discreet, search as soon as we are able. No doubt Death Eaters are watching our every move, expecting that we may attempt to retrieve him, therefore we must proceed cautiously. As things stand now, the Order remains engaged with reports of attacks within the villages."

"Attacks?" Lily frowned.

"Death Eaters; no doubt conducting a searching of their own."

"Fuck this; if you won't do anything then I'm going after him myself!" Sirius announced, furiously, storming from the room.

And it was only then that Lily allowed herself to address the other matter that had been on her mind, turning back to Dumbledore urgently; "Professor, what about Severus?"

Dumbledore met her eyes, an almost coolness in them when he did.

"Surely…surely this will affect him, too?"

"Indeed it will, Lily. I will not lie to you; Severus' situation at the moment is incredibly grave."

"Then we have to do something!"

"And what would you suggest?"

"I don't know…we could go and…and help him? Or get a message to him – warn him –" Even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous.

"He no doubt is already aware of the circumstances and is probably with his old master as we speak. Any attempts by the Order, by yourself or, especially, by _me_ would only solve to put him in even greater danger than he already finds himself. His connection to Regulus Black, alone, is incriminatory enough at the present moment and any communication between himself and the Order at this time will only serve to weaken his chances of survival."

Lily felt her panic increasing, Dumbledore's words only confirming her fear that it was his _life_ that was at stake this very moment and to do _nothing_ was incomprehensible in such a case; "But he's a double agent, isn't he? Voldemort knows that! He'd expect you to be concerned –"

"No, Lily. I have conceded to your demands once already this night and will not do so again. In this matter, my resolve is set and I ask that you have faith in Severus' abilities to handle his own fate. He has demonstrated an uncanny aptitude at conversing his way out of difficult situations in the past, which is promising for him, and shows a capability in the role which has, so far, never before been achieved. Indeed, Severus' skills of deception far exceed those of Regulus Black's and we do not want to damage any credibility he may be able to establish by acting recklessly which, I know in this case, is driven, not by rationality but by something _quite the opposite._ And I urge yourself and Severus to think carefully in the future – should there be one – when you find yourselves driven to such extreme measures by said feelings."

Lily almost gaped at the virtual slap down her old Headmaster had just given her.

"Now." Dumbledore stood, looking tetchier than Lily had ever seen him – she had rarely seen anything but the warm, grandfather-like persona he presented to the children of Hogwarts; "It is incredibly late. And yet, I find there is still much to be done. As such, I'm afraid I must bid you farewell."

Lily met his eyes, silently, lowering them and giving a small nod.

Even as her stomach twisted and churned with the thoughts and feelings that plagued her. The guilt, knowing that is was her own actions and, yes, as Dumbledore had just implied, her refusal to back down and let things play out without her own interference, that had led them to this point.

 _She_ had demanded she go to the Department of Mysteries that night and it was _she_ that had then gone on to the Hall of Prophecy by herself, forcing Regulus Black's hand upon encountering her. Even when Dumbledore had told her not to. Even when she knew Severus would have said the same, had she asked his opinion of it.

And, now, Regulus Black was hunted and God knows what Severus was going to have to endure as a result.

 _Death_?

Lily felt her breath catch at the thought, eyes squeezing shut.

Lily heard a sigh and then felt a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes opened, meeting Dumbledore's once again, and now the familiar warmth was back as he regarded her; "Have faith, Lily. As I said, Severus has endured a great deal of perilous circumstances before and, so far, has managed to escape them all relatively unscathed. And, while I may be overstepping boundaries by saying so, I have a feeling that, at the moment, Severus is aware that he has…" Dumbledore smiled; "Well, a great deal more to live for _now_ than he has done in the past."

Lily met his eyes and they twinkled. She gave him a small smile, even as her own eyes watered, and nodded, lowering them as she did.

Dumbledore made a small laugh and when she looked back at him he was still smiling; "Good night, Lily."

"Good night, Professor."

* * *

Lily didn't get far.

Merely steps from Headquarters and a quick disaparate back to the house, before Dumbledore's patronus found her once again, calling she and all available Order members back to the field.

Location; The Aurelius Foundation.

She went immediately.

In the middle of the night, the chances of there being victims inside the building were small but it was still possible. Further, there was a chance Regulus Black may have made a stopover there, or perhaps even Severus, if there was any particularly damning evidence within the building that they needed to gather or destroy.

If that were the case, neither were present now.

The only living beings there was that of Death Eaters and Order members and the purpose of the Death Eaters was simple; destroy the building.

Some engaged them in the darkness; a ' _crucio'_ fired in the night, a _'sectumsempra'._

But, upon realising the goals of their opponents, that there was no threat of civilian casualties, the Order fell back; stood watching amongst the trees on the outskirts as the Death Eaters carried on with their objective.

Screams and screeches, not of pain, but of relish reached their ears; savage and unrestrained. The unmistakable laughter of Bellatrix Black filling the air. The laughter and cries of other Death Eaters as they stormed the building; brutal and determined in their movements.

 _'Confringos'_ blasting out objects from the windows with flash of lights and a smash as the glass gave way.

The flashes of lights continued, soaring between window frames, coming in and out of her line of vision as they fired forth within the building. Further items hurled from the heights, landing with a crash onto the decking outside.

It seemed to go on forever until, finally, the Death Eaters emerged once more; but they weren't done.

Each of them lining up, one by one, side by side, raising their wand as if it were a well-rehearsed ritual, and light shot forth from each of them when all stood in place, in almost perfect synchronisation; and, as they collided with the building, the shockwave was enough to send even the Order members standing in the distance to the ground under the force of it, as a ball of fire rumbled, expanded and climbed higher into the air, blasting everything within its vicinity to nothingness.

Manic laughter met her ears once again. Jeers. Cries of devotion to ' _the Dark Lord'_. Along with others such as ' _burn Regulus Black'_.

And then another light fired forth and, above the ruins of the Foundation, the spectre of a skull appeared, a snake slithering from its mouth.


	32. November 1987: Us

Severus was not dead.

The thought was hardly a comfort.

It was not mercy.

It was simply a chance.

A test.

The Dark Lord entirely willing to allow Severus to die for his incompetence. His inability to see Regulus Black for who he truly was. For his failure at making the connection between the man and Albus Dumbledore.

But if Severus could, somehow, see to it that he survived the punishment; then so be it.

He could live.

 _Impossible_.

Severus groaned, hand curling and grasping against the dirt, as he attempted to drag himself across the cemetery; fruitlessly. A futile attempt. Every movement sending further shockwaves throughout his body, wracking him from his head right to the ends of his fingers and his toes, and he whimpered as he slumped, weakly, in the dirt.

 _Pathetic_.

But, then, he ought to cut himself some slack; he _was_ dying, after all.

Death, perhaps, would have been mercy in this case. Slowly bleeding out in a cemetery, as the snake venom slithered within his veins, agonisingly taking grasp of his organs, was hardly a dignified way to go. Particularly considering the vomit that stained the front of his robes.

How appropriate, that he should die here, in the dreariest place imaginable. A cemetery. Surrounded by the dead; cold and dark and sinister, haunted by those who had fallen years before. He wondered if any within it had died as a result of him, his own actions, his role in the war.

Severus allowed his cheek to press to the dirt; breaths rasping out, slowly, the end near. He didn't want to think about that. About the dead. About the war. About Regulus who, perhaps, had already met the same fate that lingered just a whisper away.

His eyes closed. And he saw Lily.

Yes. He could die thinking about Lily.

Bright and smiling and passionate and persistent and infuriating. Green eyes that would gaze upon him with so much trust, trust he had not earned nor deserved, but she granted it to him anyway; though that softness in her eyes could change in a moment, a flash and there was her passionate fury or her frustration or, when he was having a particularly good day, her desire.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathed and he tasted the dirt on his tongue when his lips parted against the ground.

It was hardly the taste that had haunted his senses ever since her lips had pressed against his, the first time, and all the times ever since. He released a puff of air, a meek attempt at blowing out the muck, as he rolled onto his stomach, face fully in the dirt for a second, before he slid an arm up beneath himself; resting his forehead against his forearm as he clutched his wand tight.

It was impossible.

He would splice.

Too weak even to push himself upright.

But, then, what did he have to lose?

Minutes. _Minutes_ and then the venom would finally take hold, the wounds from the curse he, himself, had invented as a child at Hogwarts would overcome him; the blood loss and the agony pushing him over the edge, from haze into unconsciousness until, finally, death would come for him.

At least if he spliced himself it might speed up the process a bit.

He flexed his hand, tightening his grip upon his wand once again, and pushed thoughts of Lily away; thought of Hogwarts.

 _Hogwarts_.

Willed it with every last ounce of strength he had and, with a swirl of the hand, disapparated.

He landed with a jolt and he groaned at the agony as it pierced through him, and he felt himself convulse on the ground upon impact. Peered through slit eyelids, and, yes, there they were. The gates of Hogwarts not so far in the distance.

But he was in the Forbidden Forest.

 _Splendid_.

Rather than dying in a cemetery with the dead, he would instead be discovered in the morning by children – no doubt a bunch of first years – when they were taken on their stroll to observe all the weird and wonderful creatures of the forest with Hagrid.

_Behold the dead Death Eater, children._

Severus' breathing shallowed and he felt himself sink deeper into the grass. Teetering on the edge of consciousness. Life, about to be snuffed out in seconds.

And he couldn't even muster up the strength or even the awareness to be relieved or understand what it meant, when a familiar voice drifted in the haze, brushing against the edge of his mindfulness.

"What've we got here, then… _Snape_?"

Severus drifted.

 _Out_.

* * *

Regulus Black was dead.

So the world was led to believe.

Five days since the young Black's defection and Severus had spent the majority of those, upon his own return to consciousness, believing that to be the case. Wracked with grief, even during his own recovery, and it wasn't until he had finally made contact with Lucius earlier that day that he had learned the truth.

Regulus lived.

But his whereabouts remained unknown. A small group had been assigned with the task of hunting him.

The attack on Aurelius had been a symbol, a message to the public; that they had chosen to believe it meant the death of the founder only served to please the Dark Lord, for he could not have people believing that a Death Eater of his had managed to thwart one of his attacks, defected and then survived with his life.

Not at all.

And, so, the people were left to believing that Regulus Black perished in the inferno that brought down the Foundation. Along with his young son.

Flowers and hand written inscriptions littered the rubble of the building; so many that they almost covered the destruction beneath. Public support swelling. Another newspaper article released, a second feature from the mysterious Meredith Snow, revealing Regulus' true loyalties.

Severus had fought down his grief, in the days he was left to believe Regulus was lost, the boy; focused on upcoming work within the school, for the Foundation was no longer there to occupy his thoughts, but Poppy had admonished him for his behaviour, telling him that he must _rest._

Severus did not think he had ever _rested_ in his entire life.

There was always too much to be done.

Nevertheless, she was insistent and demanded that Dumbledore see to it, that he did, and so he had spent the four days following his return to consciousness in the Infirmary, recovering in his own chambers.

Truly, he was glad of the peace.

When his mind did not linger too long over thoughts of Regulus 'death' and the truth of what had happened; that he had blown his cover to save Lily, as Dumbledore had revealed to him, then he allowed himself to simply _think_ about everything else that was going on. Everything that had happened.

Mulled over the prophecy. Neville Longbottom. Harry Potter. His increasingly complicated relationship with Lily.

There was no Order to answer to. No Dark Lord summoning him. No classes to teach. No Foundation to go to.

Purposeless.

Left to mull over his current options which, really, were only two; wait until the Dark Lord summoned him once more, for he surely would at some point, or go and reveal his survival to him, himself. He was sure his old Master knew of it already, as he would have had others search for his body, would have been watching for an announcement of it being found.

Whether he would be impressed or displeased over it remained to be seen.

Either way, his cover remained intact.

_Miraculously._

When the Dark Lord had concluded his torture, it was still not the end; as he peered down at Severus, contemplatively, wand clutched tight in his hand. Severus had been certain, then, in those moments, that it was the end; he would die there, the killing curse ready on his master's lips.

But then he had turned and, with a hand raised, made an indication; it did not take long for Severus to realise what it meant, as the snake had suddenly lunged and sunk its fangs into the tender flesh of his stomach and a scream had escaped his lips; unable to help it, the venom pulsing within him within seconds and, then, both had swept from the mausoleum.

Severus was left to live. Or to die. Slowly.

A knock sounded at the door to his chambers.

An expected one.

The Order had reconvened for the first time that evening, since the battle at the Department of Mysteries, and Severus had been excused from it by Dumbledore, who stated his attendance was neither required nor warranted, urging him to carry on with the rest as prescribed by Poppy days before.

It did not take a genius to guess who was on the other side of his door now.

He felt a smile tug at his lips, even if it shouldn't, even if the events that had taken place should have only strengthened his resolve to keep her away; but, _Merlin,_ did he want to see her.

And, it was with that eagerness, that he pulled open the door, confirming his expectations.

"Lily."

* * *

Five days.

 _Five_ days in which Lily had been left to think the worse. And think the worse she did. Various scenarios playing out in her head. That Severus was being held; captured, tortured. Or, as her mind has gradually began to supply; _dead_.

There was no other explanation.

Even if it had been torture; under the Cruciatus, the advanced Dark Magic that Voldemort was sure to use, there was no way he – _anyone_ – could survive five days of torture under it.

Madness afflicted the victims within hours – she knew that, she'd seen it before, with James – death surely not far behind.

And her fears were only reinforced by the fact that Regulus Black had been caught and killed within mere hours of his deception being discovered.

Regulus Black, executed, along with his young son – because of actions taken as a direct result of her own heedless actions. Short-sighted, as always, this time seeing only Harry, his life, the prophecy, entirely determined that Voldemort would not get his hands upon it and determined that she would accept any consequence, that nothing was more important in that moment but her son, then, _this_.

Part of her wasn't sure how she would ever be able to even face Severus again, if he _were_ to live. Severus wasn't the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve – _not anymore_ – his deepest feelings and emotions always supressed, hidden from view, but they were _there_ and she knew, without doubt, that Regulus Black was one of very few people Severus actually loved.

And Lily had gotten him killed.

But still, even that sombre reflection was not enough to keep her away when Dumbledore had just _casually_ announced at the Order member that night that – _what do you know? Severus is quite alright! In fact, he has been recovering at Hogwarts this entire time. Since Saturday night; yes, yes, five days ago._

When the joy had come under control, Lily had glowered at the Headmaster as the meeting carried on, for surely the old man would have known – he was hardly subtle, after all, the night everything had happened, what with his talks about ' _irrational feelings driving them to extreme measures'_ and Severus having ' _much more to live for this time around'_ – he would have _known_ that Lily would want to know of his safe return. Would have wanted to go to him; see him for herself.

Lily had gone to Hogwarts at once, upon conclusion of the meeting.

Knocking on the door of Severus' chamber with all the urgency that had been building up; five days worth of grief and panic and imaginary scenarios driving her every move.

And, within mere seconds, the door was pulled open.

"Lily."

Severus was there.

Upright.

Breathing.

 _Smiling_.

_God._

Lily launched herself into his arms.

Barely there a second before his hands seized her by the arms and yanked her back, his voice a hiss; "Lily!" The smile was gone. He made a quick glance up and down the corridor – _yes, we are alone, Severus_ – before he pulled her into his chambers, closing the door swiftly behind them; "You can't –"

"Shut up," she breathed and then her arms wound around him again; around his neck and her face pressed into the little spot behind his ear, breathing him in. She never thought she'd be able to hold him as such, breath him in like this ever again and the scent of him, alone, was a comfort.

She heard a sigh and then felt Severus deflate, his arms winding around her waist, and his head dipping so that his cheek pressed to the side of her head.

Lily could have stayed like this forever.

She holding him, she in his arms.

But, no; reality made itself known quickly. Severus was alive. He was here. And, with her immediate need to touch and feel him satisfied, the guilt and shame flared up quickly.

"Severus," she whispered, forcing herself to draw back, even if she let her hands slide down and linger on his arms, his own loosening but remaining around her waist as he looked down at her; "I'm so sorry."

Severus frowned.

Lily shook her head, her own voice wavering – the emotion of the moment or the guilt over what had happened making it so – "Regulus. I…I was so…so stupid. I wasn't thinking. I…I just…I just saw red. I don't – there's no excuse. I'm so sorry, Severus."

Severus was remarkably calm, composed, barely even flinching; "You take too much upon yourself, Lily. Regulus is…he has always wanted to be a man of principle. It was impossible for him, that role; he could not stand back and do nothing when another was under threat. Not anymore. He would have done what he did, had it been anyone."

Lily frowned, his words seeming so _rational_ , considering that the entire ordeal had led to Regulus' _death_ ; "But…he…he died because of me, Severus. His son…"

Severus' brow furrowed, for only a second, and then realisation came to his eyes. He swallowed, averting his eyes, and then her met hers again, looking hesitant. Seeming to contemplate something. And then, seemingly, made a choice; "Regulus and Malachi are fine, Lily."

Lily's eyes widened.

As the news sunk in, the information, the _relief_ that came over her rendered her speechless for a moment. She almost _laughed._ She could have _kissed_ him.

She didn't though. Not yet. Not ready for yet _another_ of his rejections.

"He's alive?"

"Yes. For now, his and Malachi's whereabouts are unknown. And it is best that they stay that way, from all; I don't expect to hear from him. Not for a while, if ever. But, he lives."

That seemed to be enough for Severus.

Always so rational, so composed, so able to keep himself under control.

If it had been one of her friends, Remus, Sirius, Julia, who had found themselves under such circumstances, Lily would have wanted to hunt for them. Help them. Do something, _anything_ she possibly could to help them.

Severus knew better. Was able to step back. See that, in some instances, actions only served to aggravate a situation further. Put the person in further danger. So able, willing, to let go, if that's what the other person needed.

If that's what he _thought_ the other person needed. No matter the pain it caused to himself.

Lily felt the love she now knew she had for him swell up inside of her.

Her hands curled, gripping tight; _screw it._ If it meant she could kiss him, show him properly, what she felt for him, even for a second, then it was worth whatever words Severus thought to throw her way in the aftermath.

Lily leaned upwards.

But she was not to be so lucky, it seemed, for Severus' resolve tonight apparently extended beyond his self-control over the situation with Regulus; he drew back, instantly, when he twigged on to her intentions.

A hand coming up between them, pressing to her shoulder; "Don't."

His tone of voice left no room for argument.

And then he suddenly released her, turning away, making his way towards the counters a few steps away; the open plan kitchenette she recognised from her first – and only – visit, months before.

Lily felt her frustration rise, once more, unable to help it.

"Would you like some tea?"

"No. I don't want tea, Severus."

Severus hesitated in his movements at the bite in her tone but didn't look at her, carrying on; "It's been a long week, Lily."

"No kidding. I've spent the past five days thinking you were _dead_."

Another pause.

He did look at her then. Eyed her up and down, seeming to think for a minute, before he drew in a breath and gave her a stiff nod, before turning back to what he was doing; filling a teapot, set about casting the warming charm.

There he was, so controlled, so distant, so incredibly _Severus_ ; there, living, _breathing,_ speaking to her as if all of this had never even happened. That she hadn't just been through one of the most painful experiences of her life, believing he was _dead_ – only one other time in her life came close to it – and here he was, speaking to her as if the status quo had been resumed, just like that.

She wanting him.

He denying her.

Denying _himself._

Fuck this. She _knew_ he wanted it.

Lily walked up to him, determination in her stride, and Severus eyed her warily when she made the few steps across his small chambers, coming up next to him.

"Severus –"

"Don't."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

A puff of air left his nose, a laugh, though there was little amusement in it; "I think I do."

"You think you know _everything_."

"I have made it my life goal to at least attempt to."

"Don't try and distract me with your cute little comments, Severus."

Severus made a face at the word ' _cute'_.

"I fear nothing can distract you, Lily, when you have your mind set on something."

"You're learning!"

"What an accomplishment. Shall I assign fifty points to Slytherin?"

"Five would suffice."

And then she smiled and she thought Severus might as well. Instead, his eyes softened but his chin dipped, still not giving in. Not allowing it.

Tough.

Lily stepped forward, taking his hand; "Sev. Please, just -"

And exasperated sigh left him, even as his hand tightened around hers, and he shook his head, looking away from her; "Enough."

The same tone as before; firm, no room for argument.

And then he sighed, sounding every bit as exasperated as his sigh had revealed beforehand; " _Enough,_ Lily."

Lily could only stare back at him, feeling her stomach tighten, as she prepared herself for _yet another_ of his rejection speeches.

"Surely you see, surely _now_ you see why I cannot let this go any further? We have already let this go on longer than it ever should have."

"No, Severus. All I see is a life that has been lost, wasted, on a man who made promises, drew in _children_ to serve him and his dogmatic, racist _dragonshit_. I see you refusing to open _your_ eyes and see that all you're doing right now is _wasting our time."_

"I may have been a child when I joined the Dark Lord, Lily, but that by no means excuses that I did. Nor does it negate the consequences of those actions."

"Those consequences don't have to dictate your entire life, Severus!"

"They do. They do, even if I wish it were another way, it is not. Look at Regulus. Look at his _child_. They will never be free. Never. Not until the Dark Lord falls and, I'm sure you'll agree, that does not look to be very likely. Certainly no time soon. Malachi will grow up in shadows. He will live his life in fear. Hunted. Forever looking over his shoulder because of his father's mistakes."

"Severus –"

"No. This is the truth. A truth that you need to hear, for if the outside dangers that threaten your life are not enough to make you see sense, then perhaps this will. You say you have spent the past five days believing me to be dead? Well, try doing that _every day_ for however long you expect this to last. And how long _do_ you expect it to, Lily? What is it, truly, that you want from me? Because I can assure you, this very moment, I have nothing to offer that would tempt you in the slightest."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't expect anything but this. Us."

"Us? And how does that look to you?"

Lily stepped towards him, taking his hands in her, looking him right in the eyes; "It looks like you and me, Severus. Together."

"That's all? Well, let me open your eyes to the reality of that then. I am a spy. I live to serve. I do not enjoy it, hence my ever-sunny disposition you have become accustomed to but, unfortunately, I have no choice. I _made_ my choice. I answer his call when he summons me; I answer Dumbledore's when he does also. The rest of the time I am lying, deceiving, playing the part, whatever part I need to play, in order to maintain my cover –"

"But you wouldn't have to do that with me," Lily interrupted him, stepping closer, her eyes expressing all that she felt; "I could be there for you, Severus. I could –"

"And what could _I_ give _you_ , Lily? _Nothing_. A life of lies and deceit. Perhaps, as you say, I would not be that way with you but you would have to be so with others. What of your son? Of Lupin? Of _Black?_ You would lie to them?"

Lily swallowed, eye flitting back and forth between his.

"They couldn't know."

"Death Eaters have families. And you're a double agent. You work at Hogwarts. You could always claim it is part of your –"

"I will not have you be a cover. As if the Dark Lord would fall for _that_. And even if he allowed it, it would only serve to draw more attention to you, which is _not_ an option. It is a secret, as you suggested, or nothing. And, nothing it is. Because a secret, as you so flippantly did suggest some weeks ago, would be unfair. To you and to everyone you know."

Lily shook her head, drawing in a breath; "I could do it. I _will_ do it."

" _Why_?"

Lily opened her mouth to speak, to answer, to _tell_ him but he carried on, regardless.

"Every day I left you, you would be left feeling, thinking the same thoughts that you have done so this week; that I am dead, that I _could_ be dead. And that is not even the worst of it – what if I were to find myself in the situation that Regulus now finds himself? On the run, fearing, not only for his own life, but for the life of his son also. What sort of life is that? I have _nothing_ to offer you."

"I don't want you to offer me anything!"

"You will. You _will_. If this means what I think it might, if you want what I think you do. And if it's not, well, then this most definitely is _not_ worth the risk."

"What do you think I want?"

"I think you want a family."

Lily met his eyes, surprised at the bluntness of his statement.

Severus held her look and then nodded, slowly, when she didn't deny it; "Something that I could _never_ have."

"You're just saying this to push me away."

"I don't need to say it to push you away, Lily. It's the truth. The fact that it _does_ serve to push you away only proves my point."

"Well it's not working!"

"Very well. Very well, let us assume that that is true. That you would be willing to lie to those you love. That you would be willing to give up a chance at such a life. A _real_ life. Let us go back to the other factors that prevent us from being together. Hopkins –"

Lily finally snapped.

"I don't care. You hear me, Severus? I don't care what Hopkins will do. I don't care about your _Dark Lord_. Or what Sirius or what fricking _Dumbledore_ has to say about it. I don't care!"

"You are being unreasonable."

" _I'm_ being unreasonable? Listen to yourself! _You_ risk your life _every day_! And I know that a big part of the reason you do it, I'm responsible for –"

"Responsi- you are not _responsible_! I do it because –"

"Sev."

She didn't want to hear it. She was over this. She was so _over_ his excuses, his self-loathing speeches for why they couldn't be together. She was _done_.

"You don't get to go out there, fighting for something that _you_ believe in, risking your _life_ for it, and then turn around and tell me that _I_ don't get to fight for what _I_ believe in, also."

"It is hardly the same thing."

"Severus. I'm in love with you."

His impassioned expression, ready to fight, suddenly dropped.

Now, he simply stared back at her, dumbstruck. Stricken.

She should kiss him.

That's what you were supposed to do. Like they did in the movies. Declarations of love, especially first ones, weren't supposed to be made right in the middle of an argument. They were supposed to be meaningful, felt, _shown_.

If you meant it.

And, oh hell, she did. She loved this stubborn, infuriating pain in the ass from his head right down to his toes.

And if he was so determined to go out there and get himself _killed_ over mistakes he had made over a decade ago, then, by God, he would know it first. He would _feel_ it.

So she kissed him; vaguely aware of a half-hearted hand that rose, suspended in the air between them, as if reaching up to stop her but faltering. Unable to do so.

And, after a second, she felt his fingers on her neck, thumb on her cheek, barely touching; soft lips moving in response against hers.

And when she drew back he simply stared, his eyes searching her, and the guardedness was gone; regarding her with such open vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely let her see. His own feelings suddenly laid bare within them; resolve falling away, along with the awe that seemed to have come over him in the immediate aftermath of her words.

A smile came to her then, unable to help it, and then he exhaled and leaned back in, his hand taking her by the hair and drawing her back; claiming her lips with his with a hunger that caught her off guard. But not for long, her own urgency quickly matching his, when he, finally, after all this time, gave in to what he felt for her.

And the intensity of it almost knocked her off her feet.

Severus gripped her tight, his kiss hard and deep, tongue delving into her mouth, and he growled softly in the back of his throat when she responded in kind, the hand in her hair tightening, splaying, pressing her closer to him. But then it released her, slipping down to her neck, pulling back the hair that had gathered over her shoulder and his lips left hers; going to the flesh that was now exposed beneath her ear.

Lily bit her lip, eyes fluttering closed as her head tilted instinctively to the side, vaguely aware of his other hand sliding up her ribcage as his attentions went entirely to her neck, kisses pressed to the flesh, and she felt her heartbeat quicken as his hand rose higher. But it stopped, resting high on her stomach, going no further.

Severus lips found hers again; kissing her with the same hunger as before and she sighed into his mouth, as his hands came back up to bury in her hair, as he inhaled deeply, seeming to want to drink her up. She realised she was letting him do all the work here; allowing herself to be overcome simply by the passion by which he was touching her, kissing her. Bumped herself up closer to him, her own desire intensifying rapidly under his attentions.

She felt hot all over. Gripped his shoulders under his arms, tried to press up against him, as his hands slid down her back once again, kiss carrying on as before, the passion increasing with every second, driven by something almost primal, instinctive and she moaned into his mouth.

But it wasn't close enough. An unexpected, but not entirely unfamiliar ache centred within her and she had the sudden desire, the _need_ to be closer, _now,_ and her eyes spotted the perfect solution, so, with a tight grip of his shoulders she urged him in that direction and he barely even reacted, allowed her to take him wherever she wished. Carried on touching, kissing, gripping her as they bumped against one another, as they made the few steps to her desired destination.

Lily pushed him down onto the couch. Only then, when their bodies parted, did Severus look up, eyes dark with lust and unconcealed yearning, and Lily thought she caught a glimpse of surprise in them as well but she didn't give him, or herself, any time to question it. She went with him, straddled him, legs on either side of his waist.

"Lily," Severus breathed against her lips, when they were suddenly pressed flushed against one another; gravity finally giving her what she had previously sought. The pressure and the friction she had craved. It had been so long since she had felt the need that she could barely identify it as what she had wanted until she finally had it. Severus' hands slid up her back and he pressed himself up against her, seeming to want the same thing, his lips moving against hers until she slowly drew back.

Lily reached up, touching his cheek, and then she smiled.

Severus smiled in return, even with his breathing ragged, his eyes almost wild as they looked back at her, it the most relaxed she had ever seen him, and Lily felt the hands on her back slip down, coming to rest on the top of her thighs, where they rested on either side of him.

Lily touched her forehead to his.

Severus did nothing. Waited for her. She would decide. His thumbs gently moving against her, in a soft caress, as he stared right back at her; daring her to go further.

It had been a long time.

And, by his kisses alone, Severus had already demonstrated himself to be a far more intense partner than any she had been used to. Any being _one_. And her previous experience had been a long time ago, only twenty-one, and it was still laced with the awkwardness of teenage fumbles and sweetness.

Nothing at all like the way Severus had just kissed and touched her.

She was nervous.

But she wanted it all the same.

Lily sighed and leaned in, claiming his lips once again, and that seemed to be all the encouragement Severus needed, the direction of where this was heading clear, and his hands gripped her thighs and then slid upwards, while hers went to the front of his shirt; undoing the buttons.

Her cloak pooled to the floor.

She didn't even feel Severus unfasten it.

But she quickly sensed his frustration when he was suddenly presented with robes and, underneath them, _more_ clothing and then she laughed and he glanced up at her, his own lips twitching. She released her hold of his buttons, quickly unfastening the robes and shrugged out of them; leaving him with only jeans and a blouse to deal with, even the playing field a bit.

She reached for his shirt, finally unbuttoned and pushed over his shoulders, and then reached for the hem of her own blouse, pulling it up over her head, not waiting until his fingers had finished undoing hers.

She hesitated when she heard Severus draw in a breath and glanced at him, expecting to meet his eyes, but, instead, they roved over her, darkening further as they did so. He glanced up at her, the intensity in his gaze making her own breath catch, and then he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, and then they went lower; pressed to her throat, her chest, as his fingers trailed down the skin of her back, making her shiver.

Lily tugged him up, drawing his lips back to hers, and pressed up against him once again, without the fabric of their clothing between them now, and _God_ it was incredible. She had forgotten; the sensation of another's skin against hers. And she felt herself grow heady with the ever growing lust within her, as she trailed a hand across his shoulder, moving downwards, skimming his chest, fingers trailing down his stomach until they rested at the waistband of his trousers.

"Lily," Severus breathed her name against her lips; "I…do you…should we…"

"Lost for words, Professor?"

"Please don't call me that here."

Lily grinned against his lips.

"If we're going to…I _do_ have a bed."

A bed? _Who cares_.

She'd happily do it on the _floor_.

Lily didn't realise she'd voiced the thought out loud until Severus growled, suddenly, against her lips and his hands tightened their grip of her. His lips moved hungrily against hers, tongue delving deep into her mouth, before his lips travelled to her throat, her neck, her chest.

And then, with surprising swiftness, he flipped them, so that she was beneath him and he above her.

* * *

This couldn't be _real_.

Severus could barely think. He'd never been so turned on in his life. Lily's most recent statement - the fucking _floor_ \- almost making him lose control completely.

Already he felt his arousal straining, uncomfortably, telling him to _get in there now._

Severus pressed his lips to her throat once more, tongue flicking out and relishing the taste of her, the very fact that this was _Lily_ beneath him and that there was no doubt in his mind where this was headed.

Lily arched up into his touch.

She seemed almost shy, which was quite unexpected, a far cry from the take-charge woman he was used to in all other aspects of their relationship. And she seemed quite keen for him to take the lead in this which, alright, he was quite happy to do, even if she had been the one who initiated it.

He reached down, fingers going to the button of her jeans, and then he disposed of them quickly. Bra and knickers away with them, also.

No need for either of _those_.

He took a moment to just look. To marvel. To see the woman before him, who he had wanted, _dreamed_ of being with, for so long.

Her cheeks were flushed; the black of her pupils bled out into the green; red hair mussed and fanned out across the cushions behind her – no doubt due to the quick turnaround they'd just had a few moments before – and her chest rose and fell with each breath. And, well, _naked_.

 _Fuck_. She was _beautiful_.

Hell, _years_ of fantasies didn't even come close to preparing himself for the reality of it; she was so much _more_ than his mind could ever have imagined.

Lily blushed under his gaze which only served to make her more endearing.

Severus sighed and leaned down, kissing her slow and deep.

Severus took his time; wanted to touch and kiss and explore every inch of her. His fingers led the way, lips and tongue following suit, gave particular attention to the swell of her breasts when she gasped and arched up into his touch, her pleasure evident. And then he slowly nipped and teased elsewhere, listened for every hitch of breath, every moan and sigh that told him what she liked, what she wanted.

Started up high and worked his way lower and felt his own arousal increase – _if that was even possible_ –with every sound she made, every tremble, his trousers tightening to the point of discomfort but nothing was going to interrupt him in this. He'd held back for too long. He'd waited _forever_.

And if he was really going to give in to this then, _hell_ , was he going to do it _right_.

When he'd teased her enough, a hand slipped between her thighs, fingers touching her in the spot he could tell she ached for and she sighed when he did. He leaned down, claiming her lips once more with his, as he gradually found a rhythm she seemed to like; kissing her slow and deep until his ministrations eventually meant she could no longer concentrate on her mouth, only on the tension building within her.

He pressed his lips to her neck, as he carried on; listened to the increasingly rapid sounds of her breathing, drawing back when they became soft pants; little sighs and moans filling the air.

He wanted to see.

And, when he did, when she was finally trembling and writhing beneath him, his name gasped forth followed by a wordless cry escaping parted lips, as her neck arched and her head pressed back against the cushions…

_Oh shit._

_Nothing_ could have prepared him for the sight.

Tension releasing her, Lily gasped and collapsed back onto the cushions, breaths coming in hash pants, eyes closed as she reeled in the aftermath.

And then, after a few moments, they opened and met his.

A slow smile came to her lips and then she reached for him and he went, more than willingly, lips meeting hers once again. Her hands tugged at his belt as their lips moved against one another, and she disposed of it with deft movements, with expert skill, and then she yanked his trousers down and off; freeing him from the discomfort of the fabric that trapped him.

Severus reached down, grasping her thigh, and shuffled a little closer, meeting her eyes as he did. Making sure she still wanted it; that she was still sure. Lily gave him another smile and that was enough. He leaned down, kissing her as he pushed forward; felt himself there and then, _inside_ , and a harsh breath escaped him at the indescribable sensation, mind lost in the haze of it.

It had been a while.

And, fuck, this was _Lily_ , his mind reminded him.

Severus drew back slightly, pressing his forehead against hers, and she met his eyes.

"Okay?" she whispered.

"Mmmm."

Words failed him. _Thoughts_ failed him. All he knew was he was here, with her, and, in that moment, nothing else mattered. He pressed his lips back to hers, to her neck, and then he began to move.

Lily's sighed against his ear, a soft moan, and he heard his name escape her and, _oh_ , he wasn't going to last long. That wouldn't do. Tried to hold himself back a bit; take it slower. Drew back again to look at her. _Big mistake_. The sight of her, alone, her own pleasure building up once again, eyes squeezed shut and the tension in her expression – _so damn erotic_ – almost made him lose control there and then.

A groan escaped him as he moved.

Lily's eyes opened, meeting his, and she stared back at him, as if transfixed by the expression on his face. He guessed he looked more than a _little_ pained at that moment, as he tried to keep himself under control.

And then she reached up, pressed a hand to his shoulder, and he froze; his movements ceasing.

"Do…do you want to stop?" he rasped out; praying to all that was fucking Holy that she didn't because how in the _Hell_ was he supposed to _stop_?

Lily smiled and shook her head, but she still pushed him back, upwards, she coming with him, until he was on his knees and she straddled his waist once again. And then she moved, hands on his shoulders where they met his neck and her eyes on him from above and he could only stare up at her; his breath coming in harsh rasps as he took in the sight of her, as she set the rhythm, the pace, and his toes curled, unable to help himself his hips moved in time with hers; meeting her movements.

It was a mix of agony and ecstasy, another groan escaping him as he fought to hold himself back; wait for her. Thankfully, it didn't take long; the tell-tale signs of her lips parting, eyes becoming hazed, before her eyelids fluttered, her head tilted back once more, and then another cry.

The sight, the sensation of her own climax, quickly pulled him over the edge with her – as if he hadn't already been on the bloody _brink_ since the beginning. But thoughts left him when his own swept over him, her name gasped from his lips as his hips jerked, out of rhythm, before he went still and his mind went blank; knowing nothing but the exquisite relief of release.

When he came back to himself, his face was pressed into her chest, arms tight against her, breaths coming in little pants as his heartrate returned to normal.

He slowly drew back, lifting his chin, meeting Lily's eyes; not entirely sure what to expect. And, either, it seemed, was she, for she looked back at him with the same uncertainty that he felt, though with hopefulness in her eyes and, _fuck_ , how could he do anything but _melt_ under them.

Severus smiled at her.

And then her uncertainty fell away.

She smiled back and leaned down, pressing her lips back to his, and he kissed her back softly; slow and sweet.

But, he noted, this was a little odd. They were on the couch. Should they, just…get up? Start getting dressed. That seemed a bit, well… _rude_. Especially considering that this was Lily and he was in love with her and she, apparently, was in love with him also – _he still hadn't gotten his head around_ that _announcement_ – and he didn't want to just send her on her way now that they had finally been together.

He didn't consider himself to be a romantic, not at all. But basking in the afterglow, even for a little bit, seemed like a natural occurrence following finally being with the woman he had loved for…well, _forever_.

But sitting stark naked on the couch wasn't a very appealing alternative, either.

What if Poppy decided to floo in to check on him? Or _Dumbledore_.

He should have insisted on the bed.

Severus shifted and Lily seemed to take that as a sign for her to get off. So she did. Leaving them both incredibly exposed. He fought the urge to reach for his clothes.

But Lily, as ever, put end to his misery. Lifting her wand and, with a quick casting of a charm, transfigured her cloak into a blanket and, leaning back on the couch, pulled it up over herself and, with a raised eyebrow in his direction, lifted the other end as an invitation to join her.

So he did

Reaching to take her back into his arms as he did so.

* * *

Well.

 _That_ escalated out of nowhere.

Well done, Severus. Good job.

One minute he is telling her they cannot be together; the next he is tearing her clothes off!

In just a few careless moments, he had effectively given up any and all rights to turn Lily away. Whether for her own good or not.

He had laid it all out for her; the truth of the matter. The reality of their circumstances. Had done so for weeks. Hopkins. The Dark Lord. The life of a spy. How he could never be what she deserved, could never give what he _knew_ Lily must want – a life, a family; he knew she must want more children. All things that were simply impossible for him. How could he possibly bring a child into this world? Even if he was not right in the heart of it, if he were a simple bystander to the nightmare, he would be hesitant.

Severus had told her that; made it clear. He could offer her nothing. Nothing at all that she deserved; that she ought to demand of him. Of _anyone_ who should ever wish to be a part of her life.

He had played his cards.

And, then, she had played hers.

And, _Merlin_ , was it a _fucking_ cracker.

Lily loved him.

She _loved_ him.

Even now, when his senses were finally returning – as much as he fought to keep common sense at bay for the time being – he could barely comprehend it. _How had he let this happen?_

Perhaps by allowing his weaknesses to rule him, his mind offered up as a reason, for he was beyond weak under her influence. All it took were those five words and he had crumbled; taken her by the hair – _you're_ in love with _me_ – and shown her _exactly,_ to the letter, how it was that _he_ felt for _her_.

Given it all up to her, unable to help himself even if he tried.

Some who knew him, mostly mere acquaintances, old colleagues from the Foundation whom he never had much chance to get to know – those outside the immediate circle of Researchers – would describe him as distant, perhaps even cold, if he had inadvertently managed to offend them.

But even Severus Snape was not so cruel, so callous, so much of a _jackass_ that he would act in such a way in the situation he now found himself; he could not stand there and hear those words – _spoken by Lily –_ and then, after weighing up options – _not that much thought processing took place in the aftermath_ – opt to drag her off to bed – _well, couch_ – have his way with her and then, once done, turn around and say to her that his arguments still stood. That they could not be together.

The very idea was unthinkable.

They were so far beyond that point now that the option of doing so was a mere speck in the distance behind them.

Severus was in this now. Right up to his ears.

And the only person who could decide what happened next was Lily.

The choice was hers.

Severus sighed.

It was too late for rational thought on his side, now.

And so, he let such thoughts go, instead opting to simply surrender to the pleasures of the immediate happenings.

He, lying on the couch – still quite naked beneath the blanket that Lily had transfigured for modesty's sake – with Lily in his arms, as they came down from the highs that their most recent activities had lifted them to.

It wasn't something he had ever imagined, even in his dreams; that he should ever find himself this way with her. His boyish fantasies had been one thing but they had never managed to conjure up images of these levels of intimacy with her before; never such levels of contentment.

Severus had wanted to bask in the afterglow.

And bask, he did. Lay there, eyes closed, breathing her in, feeling her next to him, trailing his fingers down her side, feeling the way she curved; willing everything to memory. Taking the moments, locking them up tight. Treasured.

Lily's pillow talk, however, left _much_ to be desired.

"You can't be serious."

He made a little 'hm' sound in the back of his throat; eyes closed as he carried on trailing his hand across the soft skin of her back.

"He almost tortured you to _death."_

"If he wanted me dead, Lily, I would be so."

Lily sighed, turning from her side, onto her stomach, so she now lay half on top of him and he cracked an eyelid open to glance down at her, before settling back against the cushions; eye closing once more.

"Dumbledore told us what he did to you, Severus. The Cruciatus, the sectumsempra, the _snake._ No way did Voldemort expect you to survive that!"

"And yet I did. He will be most impressed with me."

"Most likely he will finish what he started!"

"Lily. There is no option in the matter. The entire process is a test, one which I have passed. You do not know how the Circle works but I know it very well. And let me assure you that 'walking away' is not an option; my chances of survival are far greater – guaranteed, in fact – if I were to return to him, than if I were to run. Only the foolish run. Running is the _last_ option, before death."

"Severus." He heard her sigh and he tightened his arm around her; "I'm _trying_ to make you see sense."

"For the moment, I am trying _not_ to think sensibly. I have already demonstrated my own common sense to be significantly lacking this evening so far as it is and I see no reason to start calling upon it now. For the time being, it is hardly necessary. _Sleep,_ in fact,would be a far more appealing concept."

"Sleep?"

Severus peeked an eye open again and saw Lily glance in the direction of the timepiece; a little disappointment in her eyes when she did, and then sheepishness when her eyes met his.

"Time to go?"

"I can stay a bit longer."

"Hm." Severus made a hum of approval, pressing a kiss to the skin of her shoulder, and leaned back; flinging his free arm over his eyes.

Content.

"Really, Severus –"

He sighed.

"- if you go back there, what do you expect him to do? Applaud your survival?"

"' _Applaud'_ may be pushing it a bit. But he will most certainly approve of my perseverance. My extraordinary sense of self-preservation. My resilience in the face of certain death. I shall perhaps be hailed –"

"I'm being serious."

Severus, eyes still concealed beneath his arm, grinned.

"Severus." She shook him and he lowered his arm and opened his eyes, meeting hers properly.

Those eyes expressed everything he never wanted her to experience; the fear for him very evident as he looked at her. Her concern, her apprehension, both of which would eventually give way to worry, to dread, as circumstances became critical.

It was starting already.

Reality tap, tap, taping away; eroding at them.

Severus sighed again, reaching up to brush the hair back from her face, fingers lingering behind her ear when he tucked it behind; "Please do not concern yourself with matters which you cannot help. You _know_ that I must do this."

Lily swallowed, lowering her eyes.

Severus hesitated, still a little unsure of himself here, but he was more than a _little_ certain that his attentions would be welcome; he dropped his hand to her shoulder and tugged her forward, pressing his lips to hers.

Soft, sweet; offering her what reassurance he could.

Lily sighed against his lips as she drew back, tilting her head to the side with an endearing smile that made his heart _leap_ and, _Merlin,_ he was pathetic. Totally at her mercy as he stared back at her.

"So." Lily folded her hands on his chest, resting her chin on top of them as her smile became impish; "Do you remember, _this_ is the very same couch on which you revealed your deepest, darkest secret to me several months ago. I feel like…it has become _sacred_ to us."

Severus' lips twitched, and then he snorted, unable to hold back the snicker.

A silence, a comfortable one, descended and he simply looked back at her, reached up to touch once again. Trailed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, fingertips whispering against the side of her neck, tendrils of hair stirring beneath them. All the while she stared back at him, her feelings for him laid bare in her eyes, her expression; the love she had claimed, with a little hint of frustration still lying in those depths, lingering from their most recent topic of discussion. But then, if there wasn't that hint of fire, it wouldn't be Lily.

Yes. Severus could stay like this forever and be a _very_ happy man, indeed.

Lily leaned in then, pressing her lips to his, and he submitted without so much as a hint of a fight, neither physically nor mentally; fully accepting the truth of the matter, on his side, for the first time, for he had spent so long trying to make her see the truth of it on hers that he had closed his eyes to the simple fact;

He was not the Dark Lord's.

He was not Dumbledore's.

He was _hers_.

His hand slid back, winding into her hair; still revering the feel of it in his hands, as soft curls slipped in between his fingers.

But when she drew back there was uncertainty there now and Severus wondered what had happened in those few seconds of _bliss_ that had made it so.

"What is it?"

She drew in a breath, meeting his eyes, looking nervous; "Should we talk?"

Severus held her look.

"About…this?" she elaborated.

"If you like."

Lily still looked hesitant, pausing for a moment, as if in thought, and then she met his eyes and nodded. She drew back slightly, so that she was more upright, and he mirrored her actions, pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at her more fully.

"What are we now?"

Ah. Right to the point.

What are we.

But that was the brunt of it. Because they had been playing a game for the past two months – perhaps even longer than that – one that had only resulted in them becoming wound up in an incredibly complicated mess, one which Severus feared was about to continue. But he couldn't lay the blame entirely at Lily's feet for where they now found themselves.

Yes, he had turned her away. Given her reason after reason why they ought to stay apart. But, being honest with himself, his resolve in the matter was far weaker than he allowed her to see. He lingered, often, allowed his own affection, his own desires to shine through in the looks he gave her; allowed her to see that she was not alone in this. He wanted her also. Which only served to increase her will and _no wonder_. This was Lily Evans. And if Lily thought there was even the slightest chance, of course she would try to take it.

He had allowed the touches, the kisses, not to mention the _sex_ , and had spoken words that made his feelings _more_ than evident.

It was no wonder they now found themselves here; the mixed signals finally forcing them to sit down and untangle the web. Make sense of it all.

And, when it was all over, Lily would make her choice. Whatever she decided, that would be it; if she chose to walk away, there would be no more of it; no more lingering, no more stolen kisses, or affectionate glances, or unnecessary touches.

But, if she chose to stay…

"It's up to you, Lily."

She met his eyes, surprise evident when she did.

"I have said all that I possibly can on the matter. I have told you the truth, the reality of the situation. You were listening, I hope? You understand what it is I was telling you?"

"Yes."

"Then…" Severus broke off, looking at her expectantly. Ready to hear what she had to say.

She drew in a breath; "You first. What do _you_ want?"

"What I want is irrelevant, Lily, as I said before. Regardless, you know very well what I _want._ But what I want and what is right for you are two very different things; though we are past the point where I can choose the option for you."

Lily drew in a breath, looking down.

"Don't make this decision about me, Lily. Think about you. What this would mean. Only you can decide if this is worth the cost. What you're willing to do; what you're willing to give up."

Lily met his eyes; "You act as if it's all sacrifice."

"There would be some, at least."

Lily smiled, shaking her head; "Maybe. But…" Her eyes glanced between them, thoughts undoubtedly going to considerations of their current circumstances, what they had just done, the intimacy in the aftermath.

Yes, such moments were, undoubtedly, incomparable but were fleeting moments of happiness worth the cost in the larger scale? Or did it only make things harder. Little glimpses at what one _could_ have had, if only they had made the right choices. Chosen the right path. Why even bothering teasing when it is something that can never, truly, be?

And that was only on his side; Lily's was entirely different. She had not been the one to make those choices. She should not have to bear the burden of _his_ mistakes.

"It wouldn't be forever, Severus," Lily said, drawing him from his thoughts; "Voldemort _will_ fall. This war will end."

"Lily. That may not be for a _very_ long time."

"Maybe."

"There's a chance we may not even live to see it."

"Perhaps."

"Even if we did; our best years could be behind us by then."

"All the more reason to make the most of them now."

Severus titled his head to the side; "You call this 'making the most' of your best years? Hiding. Lying. Living in shadows?"

Lily shook her head, eyes on him when she spoke; " _Lying_ would be to walk away from this. Pretending that I even _could_. You may call it 'living in shadows', Severus. But I call it something different; the opposite, actually. Because, right now, the whole damn _world_ is in shadows and we need to find happiness wherever we can. If we want it, we need to _make_ it for ourselves. Find a _reason_ to keep fighting. The moments, the light ones, the _stupid_ ones, the one's that make us _human_ , they're what make this war worth fighting. If we just turn away from that side of ourselves, focus _only_ on the fight, then what's the point in even breathing?"

Severus could only stare back at her, unable to answer. Since before he could remember, all he had ever done was fight; always railing against something. The muggles in his childhood who looked down on him for his poverty; his father; the prejudices he faced for his blood before he proved himself to his Housemates; James Potter and Sirius Black; Dumbledore; the Dark Lord.

There was always a fight. Even trying to hold onto his friendship with Lily back then had been one; faced with the judgmental interference of their Housemates.

"There's so much more to us than that. So much more to live for than just to _fight_. You say you're a spy. But you're not _just_ a spy, Severus."

She took his hand; "He's already taken too much from us as it is. Our youth. People we love. But he doesn't get to take our choices from us, our lives as they are now. He doesn't get _this_."

Severus drew in a breath, meeting her eyes, knowing very well what it was she was saying here.

Lily wasn't going anywhere.

She would give herself to him, now, despite all the reasons she should not; the reasons he had lain before her. And yet, in face of her arguments, he could find there was nothing he could possibly say to dissuade her. Except:

"It will not be easy."

"No. But the best things rarely are."

And then she smiled.

Severus sighed, drawing her back to him, not fighting it, not anymore; pressed his lips to hers. She returned his attentions keenly, parting her lips against his, and what started out as a mere concession to the inevitable quickly escalated into something more, and as they moved, skin against skin, his body quickly became aware of the fact that they were still wonderfully naked beneath the blanket and responded as one would expect in such a situation.

Lily giggled against his lips.

Severus shrugged, a smile of his own tugging at the corners.

Her eyes darkened and she leaned back down, claiming his lips once more, this time with intent and he murmured against her lips, voice coming out husky, low; "I thought you have to go?"

"Mhm. In a little while."

It was all the invitation he needed, his hands slipping up her back as he parted his lips for her again.

Both surrendering to one another once more.

* * *

Sirius heard the click of Lily's bedroom door close and scowled, wondering if she had really been with _Snape_ all that time; listening to tales about the torture his master had inflicted upon him.

He would get no sympathy from _him_.

The man had made his bed.

It was probably all for show, anyway; part of his cover so he could carry on spying, relaying every Order secret to that monster, that would lead to more collapsed plans, more deaths.

Like his brother's.

His nephew's.

What sort of world let people like Snape live – someone who demonstrated no remorse _whatsoever_ for his decision to join those people in the first place – and took people like his brother, who had spent every waking minute trying to atone for his sins. His grief obvious. Pushed into joining in the first place by his manipulative, overbearing parents.

Snape, on the other hand, sauntered about the place like he owned it, practically flaunting his transgressions in Sirius' face. Like at that first Order meeting. No shame as he had announced his whereabouts on the night of Voldemort's return; why, with his master, of course. Where else would Snape possibly be?

Sirius hated the man with the passion of a billion suns!

Blood boiling in his veins at thoughts of him, combined with the grief of Regulus' death made sleep impossible; he threw the covers off of himself and headed from the room, back downstairs, past Julia where she lay asleep on the couch, having come to take care of Harry once again while the rest of them had gone to the Order meeting.

Into the kitchen and he barely managed to stop himself from slamming the items he reached for; a mug, a teapot. And then thought, screw it, he needed a _drink,_ reaching up to the rack above the top cabinet, pulling down a dusty bottle; a testament to how often anyone drank in the house.

Poured it into the mug, forgoing a glass, and sat down at the kitchen table; losing himself in brooding thoughts.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, a while he guessed, but he was eventually drawn from his thoughts when he heard shuffled footsteps on the stairs and lifted his head to see Harry standing at the bottom of them, watching him hesitantly.

Sirius forced a smile; "Looks who's up way past his bedtime."

Harry smiled, heading over, all hesitancy gone; "I couldn't sleep."

"Why's that then?"

"I was sad. About Malachi."

Sirius swallowed, his own grief stirring, and he nodded, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder; "Me too, little man."

"I know." Harry hugged him; "His dad was your brother."

Sirius dipped his head, holding him tight, appreciating the gesture of comfort. But the last thing he was going to do was pour out his grief and lay the burden on his seven-year-old Godson. He drew back, lifting his chin with dramatic defiance; "But – life, as they say, goes on."

"It's okay to be sad."

"So it is, Harry. And it's okay if you're sad about Malachi. He was your friend."

Harry gave him a smile, then, but it was laced with sadness and he lowered his eyes. Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of his head; "You wanna talk about it?"

Harry met his eyes, then drew in a breath; "I don't want you or mum to die. Or Uncle Remus."

Ah.

"Is this about us fighting? In the Order?"

Harry nodded.

"We'll be alright, Harry."

"My dad wasn't."

"Harry –"

"And now Malachi's dad is dead too. Because he was fighting."

This was far too heavy talk for three in the morning. And yet, he could hardly send Harry back to bed in the face of it, merely because he was tired. Sirius reached for him, wrapping an arm around him; "It's because there's a war now, little man. Bad people that we need to stop."

"Why does it need to be you and mum?"

"Because it needs to be _everyone._ Everyone needs to fight against it, otherwise we won't win."

"What will happen if we don't win?"

"That doesn't matter because we _will_."

"You're just saying that because you don't want me to be scared."

"No. I'm saying it because it's true. But you're right, I _don't_ want you to be scared, Harry, not for a second. You don't have to think about this stuff, okay? You're too little to worry about it."

Harry met his eyes; "But…people keep dying. Malachi's Auntie Andie –"

"Shh," Sirius quieted him, giving him a squeeze; "I don't know what to say to you, Harry. Yeah, people sometimes have to go. Sometimes. But you can't go around scared of that all the time."

"But it's _scary_ , Uncle Sirius."

"I know." Sirius nodded, drawing Harry back and taking him by the shoulders, looking him right in the eye; "But, you know, me and your mum, we have a really special little boy waiting at home for us and, hey, no way are we gonna not come home to that kid. 'kay?"

Harry's brow furrowed, as if he didn't quite believe him. His fears not quite quelled. But then he gave a slow nod, whispering; "Okay."

Sirius smiled and drew him back for a hug; "I love you, little man. Alright?"

"I love you too, Uncle Sirius," his voice was muffled against his shirt and then he drew back, flashing him a bright smile.

"Why don't you head on back up, then? It's way too early for you to be getting up."

"What about you?"

"I'll be along." Sirius gave him a nudge; "Night, night."

Harry crossed his arms, not budging; "Can I get a hot chocolate?"

"Ha. At this time of night? No chance."

"But I'm thirsty."

"Water." Sirius stood, making his way to the kitchen sink; "And then bed."

"But I don't want _water_."

"How about hot milk?"

Harry gave a dramatic sigh; "Fine."

"With an attitude like that you'll be lucky to even get the water, Mister."

A tap at the window.

Sirius ignored it – a bird – heading to the refrigerator; "If you're really lucky, I might put a bit honey in it for you."

Harry brightened; "Yeah?"

"Yup."

Another tap at the window.

"Can we go flying tomorrow? I don't have school anymore, now that the Learning Centre's closed."

"Sure. Why not?"

Two taps.

Sirius frowned, glancing in its direction, as he cast the warming charm on the mug of milk he had poured.

"Do you think Mum will come with us? She doesn't have work anymore."

"I think she has an interview."

"What's that?"

Another tap at the window.

"Another Fellowship she's applied for, now that the other place has closed down."

"She's a Healer now?"

"Not yet. One more year."

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Harry, here." Sirius handed him the mug; "Go on upstairs now, you can drink it in your room."

"Really?"

"Really. Off you go." Sirius urged him towards the stairs with a nudge to his back.

Harry walked off with a spring in his steps, though he carefully nursed the mug in his hands as he did, wary of spilling anything, and began the climb up the stairs.

Sirius waited a few moments, until the sound of Harry's shuffling footsteps could no longer be heard, and then headed over to the window; peering out into the night. The tapping had stopped and he could see nothing.

He frowned, something stirring within him; intuition or something else. Whatever it was, it made him head towards the door, unlocking it with a quick flick of his wand, and he stepped out into the night, eyes cast around the garden, searchingly.

He pulled the door closed behind himself, stepping out further and taking the few steps to the window; peering around the frame curiously, not entirely sure what he was looking for. A branch. A bird. Some tell-tale disturbance in the structure; the house about to fall down.

He heard a shuffle behind him and he turned, quickly, wand raised reflexively, being in the middle of a war keeping him on edge at all times.

And there, amongst the shadows, was a figure, stepping out into the moonlight; his brother. Malachi, looking exhausted, filthy, clutching Regulus' robes at his side.

"Reg." Sirius' voice was a whisper.

Regulus drew in a breath.

"Hey."


	33. March 1988: Caught

The floorboard creaked beneath Lily's feet and she winced; the second from the dresser. Damn thing got her every time.

Severus slept soundly behind her, undisturbed and a contentment in his expression as he did that made her smile, as she reluctantly reached down to lift her jersey from where they'd cast it the night before.

Winter had passed in a blur of snowfalls, Order battles and stolen kisses; the adrenaline from it all keeping her high up on a cloud as she and Severus fell deeper into one another. The lingering darkness of the outside world seeming unable to touch them, to bring them down, not just yet. Both of them spending the past few months reeling in the almost surreal condition of falling in love and finally giving in to it.

But reality lingered, all the same, even if it couldn't dampen their feelings. Every decision they made was measured, every touch seeming a risk, every kiss. On the rare occasion they could find to go further, hands tugging off robes, kisses pressed elsewhere but needing something a little more, an ache needing satisfied; all over too fast and there was rarely the time for them to simply melt in the aftermath. Too soon they were dressed and saying goodbye; back off to reality. Back to war.

But Lily handled it better than either had thought she would. Eventually, the questions that she couldn't help slipping from her lips stopped; asking where he had been, where he was going. The worry for him that she seemed unable to keep from expressing eventually becoming manageable; taught herself to focus on the moments, the time they did have together, and to be stronger, if not for herself then for him, because she could see the uneasiness in his eyes when her concern for him was too evident. She buried it and left him with lingering kisses and smiles and confident assertions that they'd see one another again soon.

Lily pulled her jeans up over her hips and Severus stirred as she did, rolling from his side onto his back, but his eyes didn't open. Still asleep and the space that opened up next to him looked so inviting, his bare chest making her own longing stir, that it took all said strength she had developed not to just drop her clothing once more and climb back under the covers.

It was a simple wish, really, just to wake up next to him in the morning. Lazy mornings in bed. Lingering touches, kisses, sleepy musings on the day ahead.

It was something Lily had taken for granted before, the first time.

Another life.

Another man.

It was foolish of her to compare them. Both men she had been with were so different, it would be an understatement to say it would be a case of apples and oranges. Everything about each relationship, even the way each made her feel, were different.

She and James had been barely grown when they had come together, in many ways still children, and it wouldn't be fair of her to compare the boy James had been with the man that Severus was now.

James had never had the chance to grow up, to be who he was supposed to be.

And, even now, Lily knew that who her husband was supposed to _be_ was someone great.

Their future snatched from their fingers.

But, further than that, their circumstances were poles apart.

Until Voldemort had opted to hunt them, there had been very little conflict at all for them to deal with. Time had passed them by, their relationship developing from casual to serious to marriage with little effort made on either of their parts, once they had finally become official. The two of them just carried away on high of being young and in love and full of hopes and dreams. And even Harry had come along easily, having been unplanned, unexpected, well before they had even discussed having children.

Blessed without even looking for it.

Nothing at all like the relationship she shared with Severus now. Every decision made carefully. The stakes so much higher and the intensity seeming to increase with each day that passed.

But then, her relationship with Severus had always had a lingering intensity to it; their earlier friendship had been wrought with it, debating and enthusing and arguing over things with a passion that her connection with James never quite seemed to reach. Especially when they had stepped into the castle, Hogwarts, the reality of their new world so much more than either had expected, even with the information Severus had known and shared with her in the years prior to their arrival. And Severus had always been reserved, guarded, and that only strengthened as the years went by; becoming more and more difficult for her to read to the point that it became a challenge for her, to figure out what it was he wasn't saying.

The things that he held back.

James had held nothing back.

Everything he thought, felt and wanted was expressed, openly and unabashedly. Always on the surface.

Lily never had to work at it.

James was utterly besotted and he made sure that she – and everyone who happened to be in the near vicinity – knew of it. And as conflict was minimal, aside from the contemptuous bickering of their earlier years, the most passionate of their arguments tended to be over the most mundane of issues; if Lily didn't want to go to a party; if James and Sirius had gone too far on a night out; whose turn it was to do the midnight feeding of Harry.

Even those arguments were few and far between, happiness seeming to be the default setting of their relationship and their brightest moments had been all sweetness and light; their ultimate goal most of the time simply to have fun.

It was all action; parties, Quiddich matches, hanging out with friends, sneaking away for a quickie whenever they could. Unable to keep their hands off one another.

James was the first person to ever make _her_ feel loved.

As a child, before Hogwarts, she had been far more self-assured than she had been when she had finally stepped into the Wizarding World; those two years before with Severus building up her excitement, her expectations right alongside their friendship. She had been totally unaware of what lay ahead when they had stepped onto that train; the prejudices she – both of them – would face, because of their blood. As such, it had come as a huge, unexpected slap in the face when she had come under the first attack for it; _'mudblood'_ spoken from a Slytherin two years older, with a distain that told her that it should mean something. That there was something about her that she should be ashamed of and she had wilted, keeping it to herself, the word. Nursing it over in her mind and it wasn't difficult to figure it out. But it wasn't until she had come under fire the second time – _Mulciber_ – in their second year, that Lily had finally asked Severus outright what it meant.

Severus had clammed up for a second, which told her all she needed to know, and for all his insistence in the following minutes that it didn't mean anything, that it didn't matter, that people were just being stupid saying that, there was little that her friend could say to diminish the twisting in her gut that told her that it _did_ mean something and that it _did_ matter

Lily had buried it; the insecurity.

Only Severus got to know the truth, how much it hurt, held her hand tight when she had cried but then she pushed the feelings away. Because it would do no good to let the others know the weight she carried and each time in the years that followed, when the word would fall from their lips – the Slytherins, the others – she would brush it off; a flip of the hair, a narrowing of the eyes, a curt turn on the heel as she strode away.

Only once had she faltered, barely able to keep up the pretence, the script; fifth year, by the lake. But she had managed it, all the same, and Severus had recognised it instantly. The moment everything changed.

Just too far. It couldn't slide. Not when Severus was the only one who got to know; the only person she had trusted with it. The only person who knew the weight, the sting, the infuriating, ridiculous but ever-present shame that she concealed, was made to feel by the intolerance, and his reassuring words in their second year hadn't managed to diminish it.

The slip in their fifth only making it coil tighter.

Then had come James.

Showy, bold-as-brass and entirely devoted; not caring that he looked like an absolute _tool_ even to his closest friends, to their entire _year_ , as he pursued her. Making a fool of himself over her. Taking every knockback with a grin; another assertion of his resilience until, eventually, she had lost a bet – _a bet_ – and had conceded to a date.

One date.

_Why, Evans, I do believe the stars burn brighter when you're around._

Yes, James was an idiot for her and she wanted that. She _needed_ someone who loved her like that. Totally unrestrained and carefree; lifting the burden. Someone who took the weight away and who made her feel worthy, special.

Young and insecure and so tired of fighting.

A far-cry from the woman she had now become.

A soft snore sounded at Lily's side, as she drew her seater down over her head, and she grinned, affectionately, down at him where he still slept soundly in the bed she had just vacated.

Not wanting to go but their circumstances leaving little option; even the night before was an indulgence. Entire nights were rare and, most definitely, not advisable. Should Sirius have sought her out, he would undoubtedly wonder where she was, and Lily knew he would quickly put the pieces together if he got even the slightest hint that she was involved with someone.

And Sirius knowing wasn't an option.

Even Remus didn't know, not really, though he obviously suspected considering their past discussion of the matter. Lily glanced at the timepiece; just a little past five in the morning.

With a resigned sigh she sat and leaned in, reluctantly waking him for goodbye.

* * *

Kisses on his neck.

Now _that_ was a wake-up call he could get used to.

Severus reached for her, eyes still closed, but his brow furrowed when his hand came into contact with knitted fabric and his eyes opened.

Lily smiled down at him from where she was perched on the bed, fully dressed and ready to leave. Too soon, as always.

Severus tried to glance by her, at the timepiece, noting the sun had barely even risen yet.

"It's early," Lily confirmed, her voice a murmur, before she leaned down to press her lips to his; "Go back to sleep."

"Hm." Severus pressed his lips back to hers.

Her kiss was soft, slow before she drew back; "Remus is bringing Harry back early, he's going back undercover later tonight. And Sirius has been…oddly preoccupied lately."

Severus scowled at the mention of him.

Lily ignored it, giving him a grin and a shrug; "I think there may be a lady involved."

No doubt.

Regulus had been gone barely a month before Sirius Black had come crawling out of the woodwork, laying claim to everything his brother had built, and, despite Lily making him aware of Regulus' continuing survival, Black had set forth with the legalities that saw to it he would receive anything and everything that he may be entitled to – Malachi's 'death' meaning that Black was undeniably Regulus' next of kin – and, legally, he was entitled to everything.

Bastard.

Although it made sense. Severus was far from surprised when he thought back on it and blamed missing the obvious signs of Black's intentions on the fact that he had often gone out of his way _not_ to think about the other man in the slightest since parting ways at Hogwarts, but it was all startlingly clear when he did so now. It had been after the war, after the Foundation had been founded, when it was growing more and more prominent, that Black had begun to make his first attempts at reconciliation with Regulus. Continuing as such in the years that followed; now, his goal was clear.

Four weeks after Regulus' disappearance, Severus was served with notice to either vacate the premises at Newton's or cough up Regulus' share to purchase it outright. Severus had no wish to do so, anyway, having spent most of his time at Hogwarts or the dwellings he now temporarily rented, but he resented doing anything that in any way assisted Black with his moneygrubbing. In fact, he had considered taking it to the courts, or at least to Lucius; demand he have Narcissa challenge him to the rights. She had been more family to Regulus than Black ever had the past few years.

"Hey." Lily's nudge drew him from his thoughts.

He forced thoughts of Black away. The man was already a potential sore spot between them, even if Lily – and Dumbledore - had seemed to agree with him that Black's actions had been opportunistically callous, and the last thing he wanted to do was waste precious time, that could be much better spent in other ways, so much as even thinking of that imbecile.

"I have something for him." Severus threw the covers off and stood, unable to help the little smirk of satisfaction he got when he noticed Lily's eyes lingering when he walked to the dresser.

"For Sirius?" she said, confusion in her voice.

"Lupin."

Severus lifted the box of phials, ignoring the temptation to voice his thoughts that phials of poison to give to Black would give him far more satisfaction than what these held for Lupin. He held it out to her; "He knows how it works."

Lily looked from the box, up to his eyes, and he saw the realisation come to hers; with it came surprise, gratefulness, along with a warmth he was beginning to realise was reserved only for him. He felt his stomach flutter a little, embarrassingly, and he glanced away; "Dumbledore demanded it."

"Ah." Lily grinned but the warmth in her eyes was still there when she took the box from him; "Thanks, Sev. Remus will be –"

Severus waved a hand, cutting her off; even talking about Lupin was a waste of time. He knew very well that Lupin would be grateful for the offering. And, frankly, Severus couldn't care less. If Dumbledore hadn't of insisted, he wasn't going to stand here and pretend he would have gone to the trouble of brewing the potion, as such gratitude was unwarranted.

Lily seemed to get it. She always seemed to, these days. Adapting far better than he had expected to the dark, dreary life he had promised her some months before; carrying on as bright and as resilient as ever. And he was selfishly grateful that she seemed to be able to handle it, seemed to be just as happy as he with where they were.

Lily stood and approached him, winding her arms around his neck; something he recognised to be the beginning of goodbye.

"So. I'll see you tonight, then?"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Order meeting."

"Right."

He kissed her.

She smiled up at him when he drew back; "Right."

Severus had often seen couples; two people who would linger, touching and kissing and expressing sweet nothings to one another publically, seeming completely engrossed in one another and entirely oblivious to everything and anything going on around them. Sappy, bumbling idiots that only served to cause embarrassment to those unfortunate enough to observe them.

It ought to mortify him that he was quite certain that he, himself, now fell under such a category.

It didn't though.

Severus was more than happy to indulge himself; lips pressing behind her ear and then to the side of her neck, hands slipping beneath the fabric of her sweater to touch.

Lily giggled, drawing back; "Enough of that, Professor. I really _do_ have to go."

He kissed her again.

Lily gave in, drawing him closer, pressing herself against him. Sighed into his mouth, a little moan that she knew had the capability to drive him wild, but then she drew back and her arms slipped downwards; hands resting on the side of his arms. She raised an eyebrow with a cheeky smile.

Little tease.

Severus only smiled and her own brightened when he did. She pressed her lips back to his, quick, once, twice, and then she drew back; "Okay." She turned, lifting her discarded cloak from the floor, glancing over her shoulder as she straightened up; "I'm going to go now."

"So I see."

"Because if I don't go now, I won't go at all."

"Is that supposed to threaten me?"

"Think you can handle me full time?"

"I do not shy away from a challenge."

Lily laughed and brushed by him, eyes meeting his, sparkling and affectionate when they did; "See you later, Sev."

With a careful glance out the door, she checked the area and he briefly wondered why she hadn't brought the invisibility cloak. A moment later, she was gone.

Leaving him alone with his thoughts.

When Severus was with her, rational thoughts always seemed to leave him, at least somewhat; easily forgetting himself when they were together. It had always been the same, the world always seeming to take a back seat, even when they had been back at Hogwarts. Back then, he fooled himself into thinking it couldn't touch them; now, though, he knew better.

Concerns over such things were unavoidable, understandable. Bigger than the lesser issues his mind also seemed to see fit to dwell upon on occasion.

Today, thoughts lingered on Potter; the mention of the boy to whom Lily had to return home to inevitably leading to them. Had they been anyone else, people not caught up in the heart of the war, perhaps it would make sense to ponder it. The entire issue seeming laughable in light of the other obstacles that he and Lily faced.

Yet, his mind lingered on the issue all the same. On the questions he wasn't sure he could even ask, the answer having the potential to shatter the little glass house they had built.

Where did Potter factor into their relationship?

Or, perhaps more appropriately, where did Severus factor into their _marriage_?

Other than his outburst some months before, Lily's choice of husband was a subject which never came up, both avoiding and changing the subject whenever it seemed to come close. Especially now.

Part of him told himself to ignore it, the lingering uncertainty. He would know eventually, if occasion were to arise to warrant it, so just enjoy how things were as they were now. Being with her _at all_ was more than he could possibly have even hoped for and it made little sense for him to dwell on if and how it would end. There were many reasons why it would and Severus would be fooling himself if he said he believed that what they had was actually going to last.

Soon enough, something would happen, something would take her away.

What did it matter if it was Potter?

At least, that's what he thought, rationally. Irrationally, he imagined scenarios such as Potter awakening – it was a possibility, there were studies ongoing that could result in revival – and the masochistic side of himself could picture it clearly; Potter returning and taking Lily away.

But he was uncertain if it was even fair for him to bring up the subject with her. He couldn't expect her to answer questions regarding a scenario which may never happen in the first place and Lily had already expressed to him, well before he had even confessed to his own transgressions, that she had struggled with letting go of the other man in the first place. Laying such questions at her door would only lead to musings that were, undoubtedly, painful for her, particularly now that she had opted to let go and move on.

Is that what this was though? Was she moving on or was she simply passing time?

_She says she loves you, you idiot._

Yes. She does.

For now, he could content himself with that.

Severus stretched, eyeing the bed and considering heading back into it for another half hour, before heading back to Hogwarts.

The searing burn that suddenly seized him by the left forearm put end to the thought.

* * *

"Uncle Sirius!"

Malachi leapt into his uncle's arms, smiling widely as Sirius stepped into the little shack that he and Regulus had been hiding out in for the past few weeks.

"Hey kid." Sirius laughed, giving him a squeeze, before dropping him with a plonk back to his feet. He swung around the knapsack he sported, holding it up; "Hungry?"

"Starving!"

Regulus smiled slightly, as Malachi quickly seized a sandwich Sirius presented him with, making his way to the entrance that Sirius had just enter through; peering out at the trees.

"'s alright, little brother. I'm getting to be a pro now at stealth and approach."

Regulus smirked, rolling his eyes, before he drew back.

Sirius shrugged, holding up the cloak he held in his hand; "Or I may have borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak."

"Can we keep it?" Malachi's eyes widened, excitedly.

"Nope." Sirius grinned, tucking it away; "I'm afraid he doesn't know I have it."

"You _stole_ it?"

"Borrowed, kid," Sirius said with a wink, before he proceeded to unload what he had brought; various food items, copies of Daily Prophets from the past couple of weeks since his last visit, clean clothing, blankets. Transfiguring them into their normal size from the smaller state he had reduced them to so they would fit in the small carrier.

Sirius tossed some magazines in Malachi's direction, along with another, smaller bag that Malachi eagerly lifted. Pulled out items Regulus recognised from his son's room at Newton's. Some books, toys, a photo frame with a moving image of his son and Evelyn inside, a toy snitch he'd received from Severus the Christmas the year they had lost her.

Malachi stared down at the picture, reverently, before raising his eyes and smiling shyly at his uncle; "Thanks."

Sirius ruffled his hair; "Don't mention it."

"You got Newton's sorted, then?" Regulus spoke up.

Sirius nodded, leaving Malachi to his things, and approaching Regulus without the same ease he always demonstrated with his son; "Uh, yeah. I got the deeds in this morning and headed over. It'll be a couple more days before I can get it all straightened out for selling up. I have to take Harry tomorrow, Lily's started that new fellowship now. Won't take long though, people have already started sniffing around asking when it's going up for sale."

Regulus nodded; "Right." He swallowed, glancing around and avoiding his eyes; "Thanks."

"Is there anything you want me to bring? From the house?"

Regulus shook his head; "Just Malachi's stuff. I think most of it is there. The rest is replaceable."

Sirius nodded, slowly, eyes seeming to study him and Regulus shifted, uncomfortably.

He hated this. Hated relying on his brother for anything. But he had no choice. Not even a week of running, hiding, and he and Malachi had barely survived; no one to turn to. Just finding food was an almost impossible task, especially as he had been so unwilling to let his son out of his sight for even a second.

And he couldn't go to Narcissa; he knew the Malfoys would be under scrutiny as the Dark Lord searched for him and Severus would be even more so. The idea of going to him for help was unthinkable. It was a relief to learn from Sirius, when they had been discussing the legalities of getting everything liquidated, that Severus was even still alive himself and had been able to maintain his cover following his own exposure.

Sirius was the only one.

And, despite their estrangement and how little he wanted to have to turn to him, Regulus had known his brother would step up. That he would protect him, if he asked.

So he had. For Malachi, as well as for himself. His son couldn't be expected to suffer just so Regulus could maintain his own pride. He already had to suffer enough for his father's mistakes.

"Hey." Sirius placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder and he met his eyes, fighting the urge to step away; "Is there anything else you need?"

Regulus shook his head.

Perhaps he was being foolish, childish, ungrateful by maintaining his distance; demanding Sirius help him when he was unwilling to offer up anything of himself in return. Sirius wanting to reconcile, properly, and Regulus wanting to keep punishing him, nurse the grudge, the feelings that his brother's abandonment still brought up within him.

Yes, it was childish. He was acting like a brat. Hardly something he ought to be proud of. But, hey, he _was_ the little brother here.

"Look, Reg, maybe it's time I went to Dumbledore, yeah? He could help you a whole lot better than I can."

"No. Not yet."

"It's almost sorted. I'll get Newton's sold within the week; once we've got somewhere else you'll be under the Fidelius and then –"

"And then we'll tell Dumbledore. Not now, Sirius. It's too risky."

"Reg –"

"Just drop it!" Regulus snapped. The last person he wanted to think about was Dumbledore. As soon as he revealed himself to him he'd be back in it; back in the war. Taking on whatever new role the old man decided he would be best suited for and, right now, the only thing Regulus wanted to concern himself with was making sure there was a safe place for Malachi to hide while he did so.

Some dingy little shack in the woods was hardly the place he had in mind, the charms Sirius casting over the place meagre, barely a deterrent if the Dark Lord or the other Death Eaters discovered the location of their current hide out.

"Just you, Sirius."

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to insist, but he didn't; he, too, feeling the strain of civility that hung over them. This wasn't brotherhood, Sirius knew that, it was necessity.

For immediate survival purposes, yes. But also the fact that something more was needed to ensure they could carry on living this way. And no one else could access what Regulus needed; his money. Black blood once again proving essential.

Sirius drew in a breath, seeming to realise he wasn't going to get anywhere with him, not this time. Regulus felt the burn of mortification as he remembered how he had wept in his arms as he had reeled in the aftermath of the blood curse; confessed his innermost feelings of remorse.

 _Merlin_.

Even Severus hadn't been privy to such an outpour prior to that; no one had. Of course, Severus had been there, also, witnessing the whole thing.

Regulus cleared his throat, turning away.

"Guess I'll head off then."

"What?" Malachi perked up, attention on his comics evaporating and met his uncle's eyes, looking disappointed; "But you only just got here."

Sirius hesitated, glancing briefly in Regulus' direction; "Yeah…I uh –"

Regulus shrugged; "Stay if you want."

He reached down, lifting one of the Prophet's Sirius had brought, and headed to the other side of the room; which was merely a few feet. Sitting down and settling to read it. He didn't blame his son for his eagerness at keeping Sirius around. Even if he wasn't as fond of him as he was, he doubted Malachi enjoyed being confined to the tiny dwellings they had been moving back and forth between, with only his father for company for the past few months.

Sirius took the invitation and sat down next to Malachi; proceeded to offer commentary on what Malachi was reading for a while until his son cast the magazine aside, toys forgotten, as he became engrossed in Sirius' stories.

Regulus didn't join the conversation.

Pretended to read the newspaper as he listened in. His son eagerly posing questions and Sirius answering them with a familiar over-dramatic manner than he recognised from when they were children; when Regulus would ask him questions of his own and his big brother – oh, so much older and wiser – would humour him and tell him the answers; sometimes lies, mind you, sometimes utter nonsense that Regulus would go on to repeat only to learn he had been duped.

His big brother was always an arse.

Regulus couldn't help it; fighting a smile as he listened to his son interact with him. The little boy's laughter filling the air, his brother's chuckles following suit. And he felt himself longing for those days, back before, when everything was different. The world hadn't touched them yet.

Still innocent. Still pure.

Sirius met his eyes then, seeming to hear his thoughts.

And, for the first time in over decade, Regulus gave him a smile.

* * *

Severus did not consider himself to be sentimental.

Perhaps finally allowing himself to succumb to Lily and the ensuing relationship had weakened that side of himself, somewhat. Emotions so much easily touched upon these days than they had been in the past.

Or, perhaps, it was the ever present, ever rising sense of dread that came over him whenever Regulus came to mind.

When Sirius Black's attorney had served him with notice to vacate Newton's, he had long since cleared out his own belongings; the threat of Hopkins' potential strike rendering the property useless to him. But he had gone back, all the same. Barely a minute within its walls before he had emerged with a single framed photograph.

A gift he had received some years before – he had _not_ gotten this thing framed himself.

Within it, the figures moved; a younger version of himself – the foolish one, who had still followed the Dark Lord blindly – and of Regulus, barely seventeen and with a sparkling mirth in his eyes that they had long since lost, for his smiles rarely reached his eyes anymore.

Severus was certain that was still the case, despite their current separation.

Within the frame, the young Severus scowled, middle finger being presented to the camera in lieu of a smile, and the young Regulus sat behind him, arm resting over a bent knee with a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, laughing at Severus' response.

That was them all over.

"You are concerned?"

"Obviously." Severus had to keep himself from snapping at the old man, as he and the Headmaster made their way to the Order meeting.

"The very fact that Voldemort remains caught up with the search for Regulus indicates his continuing survival. That he has not sought our help or attempted to make contact with either of us can only mean that he wishes to remain anonymous at this time."

"Or that he is unable to reach us, despite wishing to do so."

"Severus, wasn't it you, yourself, who said that it was best we do nothing to attempt to locate him? You were right when you said it held the risk of posing further threat."

"That was three months ago!" Severus did snap now; "Surely it is now time – _past time_ – for the Order to intervene and attempt to assist him."

"Very well, Severus, if that is your wish. We shall assign a small group with the task of locating him."

The relief that Severus felt was dampened by the statement the old man had just made; that, yes, any attempt at locating Regulus did come with risk. While it seemed that the Dark Lord had withdrawn his focus upon the Order, leaving only Severus to carry on with monitoring their movements, there was still the chance that they could draw the interest of the Death Eaters assigned with the very same task.

"I suppose you understand that it would be unwise for yourself to be included within that group?" Dumbledore added.

"Of course."

Severus was not entirely sure he had escaped monitoring himself, for the time being, his previous failures still neither forgotten nor forgiven. He had all but been banished from hearing any current Death Eater movements, called upon only to relay information he had learned regarding the Order and receiving no other task in turn.

An uneasiness took the place of the relief, then, as he considered what it was going to take for the Dark Lord to accept him, fully, into the Circle once more. For now, he skirted the brink of it. To be embraced once more, he would have to offer up something more than a little substantial. A secret. A life.

Severus pushed the thought away, the two of them finally reaching their destination, stepping into the Burrow; down the narrow hallway into the room where Order members already awaited, chatting amongst themselves.

Lily passed by him, mere inches from the door, as he stepped through the threshold; met his eyes briefly and offered him a small smile, before she carried on her way, taking her customary seat between muppets one and two.

He took his own; directly opposite. Avoided her eyes.

The familiar grip of longing took hold, as it always did, whenever he looked at her. He could blame it on the fact that it had been almost a week since he had last seen her. But that would be a lie. He would have thought that finally being with her, his attentions wanted, sought and, when possible, carried out, would mean the longing would be quelled somewhat. That he would finally be satisfied.

Not so.

If anything, the fact that he was permitted to touch, to kiss, only made him want her all the more. All the time. Furiously distracting.

Severus cleared his throat, composing himself and pushing such thoughts away, and focused on whatever it was Dumbledore was saying.

" – number of aurors and their families have been targeted. And in each case, it has been suggested they logged reports that they believed they were under watch."

"So, the Death Eaters are coming after us now while our backs are turned?" Sirius Black remarked; "Now that's honour."

Like _Black_ would know anything about honour. Moneygrubbing scum.

Severus controlled himself, not voicing the thought, but glowered in the other man's direction all the same and received a corresponding one in turn.

"It seems that Voldemort is focused almost entirely upon recruitment at this time, rather than any particular offensive strategy; opting, instead, to send his Death Eaters out to pick off his opponents as the opportunity arises. Severus has stated that he is currently focused upon enlistment of the Giants, as well as dealing with final negotiations with the werewolves." Dumbledore glanced in Lupin's direction at that; "Which we hope to hear more information on soon?"

Lupin, who looked even more pale and sickly than usual, gave the Headmaster a stiff nod and a forced smile.

"Then Death Eaters are stalking us?" Emmeline Vance spoke up; "I had a feeling I was being followed a few nights ago."

Hushed chatter erupted and a handful of others spoke the same concerns; paranoia or truth, it didn't matter. Panic quickly set in.

"For the time being, I suggest apparition as the first option of transportation," came Dumbledore's resolution; "And a watchful eye. For now, it would be prudent for us to carry on with recruitment of our own." He made a nod of indication in the direction of three newcomers to the group, introducing them, before going on to assign tasks to others; verbal negotiations, for there were no known imminent attacks to respond to.

Then again, how would the Order know?

Severus, having dropped so many grades in the Dark Lord's esteem, now only learned of them, himself, mere minutes before they were due to take place or, in some cases, after they had already done so; merely so he could relay the Order's casualty list and response.

After all, Severus was not needed to fight. And what Severus didn't need to know, the Dark Lord didn't share.

And with the diminishment of his worth is the Dark Lord's Circle, came a corresponding diminishment of his worth to the Order. For he could offer little information of value.

For the time being, only, Dumbledore had countered, stating that patience was what was needed. Obedience. Compliance. The old man assuring him that, when the time was right, he would offer up information of value that would elevated him back to his previous levels of standing. When memory of his failings were not quite so fresh.

Playing the game.

The meeting carried on another half hour, as each relayed information, questions and concerns of their own, all which led to brief discussion but there was very little of great significance. Another dud meeting, really, if Severus were to speak frankly.

He easily found himself distracted by Lily, instead, particularly when she shifted, meeting his eyes across the table, and she held his look; eyes lingering on his until Lupin glanced her way and she averted them.

The wolf looked at her curiously, before glancing over at him, and Severus held his look, evenly, even if he ought to have just looked away. Not one to back down from a challenge from a bloody Marauder.

Nonetheless, he didn't look Lily's way again as the meeting continued, attention back on what Dumbledore and various other Order members were saying. And it wasn't until after it concluded, when he lingered in the room as the others left, that his attention turned upon her once again when Lily cautiously approached him, under the pretence of retrieving her cloak nearby.

"Harry is staying with Julia tonight." Her voice was low, despite the quickly uttered ' _muffliato'_ she cast when she reached him. Ever vigilant.

A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, as he slowly stood, pulling on his own cloak. Understanding instantly what it was she was suggesting, even without looking at her when he answered; "Is that wise?"

He didn't need an answer. The question was rhetorical. Only six days before, she had spent the night with him. And he could count on one hand how often she had done so since this had started, in part due to both agreeing early on that such occurrences needed to be spread out, and also due to the fact that time was, most definitely, not on their side these days.

"What about Black?"

Lily shrugged, drawing her own cloak on, stepping around behind him, keeping her head down and her voice still low as she passed by; "I'll wait until he goes to bed."

He contemplated it for barely a second.

"I'll leave the door unlocked."

Severus caught the smile tugging at her lips but she didn't look back at him, making the few steps to the door and leaving without any parting glance.

Severus cursed the little thrill that shot through him, hitting him due to the mix of elation at getting to see her that night as well as the little jolt of excitement that came whenever they made such plans, secretly, clandestinely; forbidden little meetings.

Fool.

This wasn't a game.

And he should have said no.

But, well, the opportunities were so little and far between. With the boy away for the night, it seemed only logical they seize the chance. Sensible. It could be weeks before the opportunity rose again and Severus knew he couldn't last so long; weak, now, not only when faced with Lily but also under the strain of his _own_ wishes.

And, hell, there was no denying it; he wanted to have sex with her tonight.

So, driven by primal lust, he had not refused or offered up any resistance or reminder of the dangers; let himself be led by his own desires. Let himself become complacent, careless, as he had done so with her in the past.

And, as always, such a drop in his guard would prove to be less than prudent. Consequences. Consequences.

Although, Lily would be the only to bear the brunt of them this time.

* * *

Sirius poured over the paperwork he had received that morning.

Newton's was done. Sold. The final paperwork awaiting clearance. The last of the items within ready to be disposed of. More money than he could even picture in his mind soon set to fill the new vault he had opened up at Gringotts.

It wasn't his, mind. It was his little brother's.

His little brother who, for the first time in over a decade, had actually, willing, come to him. And Sirius wasn't going to screw up this chance; the chance to make it up to him. To finally make amends for what had happened in the past.

His own pride and arrogance had led to losing James; to alienating Remus.

He wasn't going to let it destroy his relationship with Regulus as well; his brother could use him in whatever way he wished, so long as he got it. That Sirius would do anything for him.

Including pouring over mind-numbing documents detailing the legalities of purchasing the new property he had finally managed to settle upon.

A cottage in Scotland; secluded but not as forsaken as the dingy dwellings he had put them up in for the past few months. Caves, shacks, ruins.

It was a wonder Malachi hadn't come down with a respiratory ailment over the winter.

This place was perfect. An island just off the mainland.

They could even step outdoors once in a while, if they wanted to, such a small population that the island itself could hardly even be considered to be truly inhabited. Besides, once the Fidelius charm was cast, it no longer mattered; Voldemort couldn't touch them, then, even if he were to someone learnt the location. The cottage would be unseen and his brother, his nephew, would be untouchable.

It wasn't a way to live, no. Sirius had seen it before, with James and Lily; the strain threatening to break them as time went on. Cut off from civilisation. But at least they would be alive.

Though, from the sounds of it, Regulus had no intention of remaining cut off. He would hide, yes, but he would still fight, he had made that clear. He would stand against the monster he had turned from in whatever way he could.

Sirius couldn't help smiling as he thought of it; proud, even if he had nothing to do with it. Could take no credit for how his brother had turned out. Regulus had done it all on his own.

The door to the kitchen suddenly clicked open, quietly, and Sirius grasped for his wand; raising it as he got to his feet, as he quickly confirmed that, yes, it was past four in the morning.

Lily stepped through; froze in her movements when she caught sight of him at the table.

She looked incredibly caught; guilty.

Sirius frowned.

"Sirius."

Sirius glanced back at the timepiece, needlessly, before meeting her look; "Where have you been all night?"

Her cheeks reddened; "I…I was taking a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes."

"At four in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Sirius eyed her sceptically; mind wondering if it was really just a 'walk' she had gone on, then why was she acting as if he had just walked in and caught her with her knickers around her ankles; "Uh, yeah. Not buying it."

Lily straightened, suddenly looking defensive; "I wasn't aware I needed your permission to leave my own house, Sirius."

Sirius suddenly grinned, the puzzle fitting into place. Lily had been _with_ someone. _That_ explained it. She had been acting weird for weeks. Staying out later than he knew was necessary, he was certain the new Fellowship she had taken up didn't require her staying late into the evening, not as often as she claimed. And she carried herself different; practically walking on clouds, _humming_ as she dotted about the house.

And, more pleasingly, she had stopped hanging about with bloody _Snivellus_ now that the Foundation had closed down.

At least one good thing had come of his brother's legacy being destroyed.

And now, it seemed her attentions were on some new mystery man.

Someone she had met at St Mungo's, he guessed, and he put down her uneasy defensiveness due to uncertainty over how he would react. He had been, was, James' best friend, after all. Perhaps she expected him to confront her? To feel betrayed on James' behalf?

Not at all. This was great. Lily was finally moving on.

Sirius raised his eyebrows; "Does he have a name?"

Lily bristled, walking behind the counter; "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sirius laughed; "Oh come on, Lil'. It's so _obvious_."

Lily shook her head; "There's no one."

"I don't mind. It's great! Do I know him?"

Lily ignored him.

"It's not Remus is it?" Sirius couldn't help it; he didn't like the thought of it. The thought of either of them being with Lily, after being practically brothers with James all that time, gave him the icks. He'd rather it be someone else; someone who didn't know them. Someone new.

And someone new would come into their lives on _their_ terms. He may be getting ahead of himself here, but he wasn't going to stand back and be cast aside by some _stepfather_ that came along and tried to muscle in on Harry's life.

"It's not Remus. It's no one." Lily rolled her eyes and then she shot him a grin of her own; "Not that you're one to talk, mind you. I've noticed _your_ little disappearing acts for the past few months and they've been far more frequent than my midnight walk tonight."

Sirius paused as she turned the tables on him. He hadn't told her about Regulus. Partly because Regulus had insisted only Sirius know about his situation, and partly because, well…things just weren't the same with Lily anymore.

It wasn't that he didn't trust her. He did. She was family. But a distance seemed to have come over them, one he couldn't blame on a new man, for it had been growing for months. Ever since Peter had escaped from Azkaban. Sirius going after him being the defining moment; Lily no longer being able to count on him.

Or, maybe, it was Snape that had caused it. The sting over her siding with that man, keeping the truth of his past from him, even when he had been certain, had voiced his concerns, still hadn't completely diminished. He didn't care what cock and bull story the git had offered her; Sirius had been right and Lily hadn't cared.

There was a growing distance between them now that Sirius wasn't sure could ever be joined.

Sirius shrugged, smirking; "Gotta get my jollies somewhere, Lil'."

Lily's eyes widened and she suddenly smiled, delightedly; "Seriously?" And then she laughed, shrugging out of her cloak and approaching him with unconcealed interest; "Who is she?"

"No one in particular. Just a bird."

Lily shot him a disapproving look.

Sirius gave her an unabashed grin; nothing to be ashamed of, after all, for there was no _bird._ Just his kid brother and nephew, held up in a crumby little shack.

Rather, he enjoyed it. The light in her eyes and the teasing in her voice as she attempted to coerce information from him, in much the same way he had done so about _her_ new beau, and it seemed to reach back to the camaraderie they had had, years before; after James, when the pain was fresh but they had still counted on one another. Leant on one another to get through it.

And he pretended that, yes; they'd manage to bridge it, this distance.

He could fix, hold onto, his relationship with Lily, the same as he could with his brother. The same as he was doing with Remus.

They'd be just fine.

* * *

Remus wasn't fine.

No matter how much he insisted it; both verbally to those who asked how he was doing and silently, in his own head, as he told himself to get a grip.

Sirius seemed to see past the insistence, suggesting the two head out and scout the area Greyback intended on prowling next.

Almost six months undercover now; five full moons. The first two had been bearable, if terrifying, Snape's offering of Wolfsbane in exchange for his blood taking the edge off his transformations; maintaining his humanity, even as he became the monster.

It was freeing, such relief that he had almost wept when he had come back to himself; to know that it was possible and to have it.

He had heard of it before, Wolfsbane, read all about the potion, but he had never before had the opportunity to take it. When the concoction became better known, the instructions and ingredients list made available, the expense of them had floored him; he had refused when Lily had offered to purchase them but she did it anyway. Only for them to go to waste because the skills required to brew it were so advanced; one mistake and all was lost.

Lily tried again the following two months, in vain, until Remus had told her to stop. Wasting money that he would never be able to repay. And time that, he knew, she would have much rather be spending on her whole 'Save-James' mentality she had been plagued with, at the time.

Snape's offering had been a godsend; so much so that he doubted even Snape knew how much Remus appreciated it, even if it was simply an offering made for the other man's own gains.

However, having it and then losing it, only made the natural transformations all the more unbearable. The third, the forth, the fifth. The task of spying, of becoming one with the werewolves, taking its toll harder and faster than it had done the first time.

He guessed it was obvious; Sirius and Lily asking him frequently how he was doing. Reminding him that they were both there. He could go to them. And he was certain that it was Lily who had convinced Snape, somehow – he had an idea, though tried not to think too much on it – to provide the Wolfsbane for him once again that month.

Lily was with Severus.

Remus knew it; no doubt whatsoever.

Even if Lily hadn't confided in him once again. Even if their outwards behaviour seemed to indicate a disconnection, Remus knew from the conversation before everything really hit them, the feelings that lingered there.

That knowledge, along with the strain of just keeping himself _together_ right now, meant that Sirius' questions and musings only served to make him uncomfortable. And irritated.

"If there was someone and it was serious, she'd tell us."

Sirius seemed to find the whole thing incredibly exciting. Lily with a new man. Not exactly the reaction Remus had been expecting though there was still time for it; for the inevitable ' _intentions'_ discussion with the poor man who happened to catch Lily's fancy, along with the ensuing ' _hexing of the testicles'_ that would be sure to follow.

Remus was one hundred percent certain that Sirius would not be so animated about the whole thing if he knew the truth; that it was Severus Snape who Lily had, apparently, been sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet with.

"Do you think we know him?"

 _Most definitely_.

"No."

"Yeah, me either. Someone new, right? From St Mungo's, I'm guessing. She seemed, I don't know, _guilty_ or something when I asked her about it. Probably because of James."

"Hm. Must be."

"I mean, I've told her before, that I wanted her to move on. I meant it, too. I don't expect her to be Prongs' wife forever."

"Yeah."

"It's not good for her."

"Right."

"And James wanted that for her too, you remember? He said so. That he wanted her to move on, keep living, if anything ever happened to him."

"I remember."

"Yeah. I mean…What's up with you?"

Sirius was looking at him with a frown.

"What?"

"You're barely even listening."

"I'm listening. I just don't see the point in this."

"The point? You don't care?"

"That's not what I meant."

Sirius began to speak, looking exasperated, eyes flashing, but then he hesitated. Seemed to think for a moment. And then his expression softened; "How you doing, anyway?"

The concern in Sirius' voice caused a surge of guilt to shoot through him; at keeping the whole Snape and Lily truth from him, when his concern, his care for her was so evident.

But he had a loyalty to Lily, too. And it wasn't his place to reveal the confidence.

And really, like Remus was going to be on the receiving end of _that_.

"I'm fine."

Sirius looked sceptical, concerned, and Remus was glad that the focus of his friend's thoughts seemed to have shifted away from Lily, for the time being, so he no longer had to dodge the questions Sirius was innocently voicing. Really, had Remus not known the truth, he would be immensely interested in the whole thing, himself.

Sirius suddenly clapped him on the back; "Well, I think we've gotten all we can do out of this scouting mission. How'd you fancy heading over to my brother's mansion for a bit? You really ought to see this place. It's _obscene_. And it'll be gone by this weekend."

Remus had deliberately avoided commenting on Sirius' encroachment on Regulus Black's estate the past few months. But, hey, the man was dead. It wasn't like he was going to miss it. Sirius wasn't hurting anyone.

And he wasn't blind to Sirius' intentions; he wanted to take Remus' mind off the approaching full moon. Show him a good time. Act like kids again.

Remus, too, wanted to take Sirius' mind off of things; Lily's love life, more specifically.

"Why not?"

Sirius wasn't kidding. Newton's was immense. And he and Sirius had just walked straight from gates right up to the door, without any inhibitions, passcodes or wards to keep them out.

"You don't worry someone will break in?"

Sirius scoffed; "Nothing in here I need. But no, I put up a bunch of protective wards, advanced ones; you don't need passcodes for those. They can identify the owners of the place; only I can get in."

Remus nodded, approvingly, both of his words and of the estate as he curiously looked around.

Sirius gave him the 'grand tour'; nodding, winking, pointing and gesturing with wide movements. A few instances, he would slip into praise for the younger Black, his pride in his brother's accomplishment evident, and Remus couldn't help but smile.

Sure, Sirius may have seemed like an arse, going after his brother's fortune when he had passed. But, maybe, it was more than that. He knew how Sirius had felt the loss, the need to reconcile with Regulus, the past few years. How his eyes would frantically search the list of the dead during the first war, assuring himself that his brother's name was not on it, entirely certain he had joined Voldemort's ranks.

Maybe it wasn't fortune hunting. Maybe Sirius just wanted, _needed_ a part of his brother. Needed to just see the life he had built for himself, even if he wasn't allowed to be part of it.

Remus couldn't grudge him that.

A soft giggle drew him from his thoughts. A laugh. It came from somewhere down the corridor; behind a closed door.

Sirius met his eyes, the confusion in his perfectly mirroring what Remus felt.

"I thought you said only you could get in here?" he spoke lowly, quietly.

"Yeah."

Sirius drew his wand, made an indication with his chin that Remus do the same; follow him.

The two approached the closed door.

The laughter had stopped now. A silence on the other side. Perhaps he had just imagined hearing anything at all. Or, more likely, it was just the house elves. A place this big no doubt had a number of them.

A voice put end to those thoughts.

A very, very familiar one.

Suddenly, comprehension dawned upon him.

Yes, Sirius had cast wards over the place so that only the owner of the property could enter.

But Sirius Black was not the only owner of this place.

Another laugh. The other person. Also familiar.

What the hell were they doing _here_?

"Ahh, Sirius." Remus quickly seized him by the arm, preventing their approach; "Maybe –"

Sirius' eyes turned on his. The same understanding that had come to Remus plain on the other man's face. He knew. Even if the evident understanding was mixed in with shock, disbelief; nonetheless, there was no way that Remus could possibly stop him from opening that door.

Or, as the case may be, bursting it open with force and stepping inside.

The voices, the laughter, stopped.

Lily, encircled within Snape's embrace, spun to face them, as Snape straightened from where he leaned back against the cabinet.

Their dishevelled state of dress left little to the imagination of what he and Sirius had just interrupted.

 _Caught_.


	34. March 1988: Black Out

They seemed suspended in time.

No one seeming to fully comprehend what had just happened. What was _still_ happening.

Sirius sure as hell couldn't believe _his_ eyes. Rendered immobile, speechless by what he was seeing.

Lily, blouse half unbuttoned, pushed over her shoulder and revealing way more than Sirius had ever seen before, in the arms of one Severus Snape; who was, equally, inappropriately half-dressed, and he didn't know which sight disturbed him more.

But the bare flesh of either of their bodies was _nothing_ compared to the unrivalled disgust that quickly arose within him when his mind unravelled the sight and told him what he had just walked in on; Lily and Snape about to _shag._

Snape spoke first; cold, biting, so much so that even Lily flinched; "Get out."

_So you can carry on?_

Sirius saw red.

"You son of a bitch!" he snarled, raising his wand and firing a spell, the first one that came to mind, the other man's way but Snape was ready for him; blocked it and Sirius was too slow, too _furious_ to react properly and he suddenly found himself slammed back against the wall before crumpling to a heap on the floorboards.

He felt Remus reaching down to help him up and shrugged him off, going to raise his wand again.

"No, don't! Stop!"

Lily reached up, then, touched Snape on the arm, and suddenly all the rage he felt was no longer directed at the man who had dared to touch her.

"What the hell are you _doing_?"

Lily flinched back under the force of his words.

"Have you lost your _fucking_ mind, Lily?"

"Back off or I'll see to it you lose yours, Black," Snape growled, as if he had the right to step in, to defend her.

"Sev," Sirius heard Lily say quietly to him, making his blood boil further; his rage increase. The betrayal, the disgust almost paralysing. But not quite.

"Sirius –"

"Save it."

He ground out the words through clenched teeth, not even looking at her, his attention now back on Snape; imagining all the things he wanted to do to him in that moment. Things that would make the Shrieking Shack incident look like child's play.

"Let's talk about this at home, yeah?"

Remus.

Voice of reason as always.

Sirius didn't miss the fact that he didn't sound in the least bit disconcerted, not at all surprised what they had just walked in on. In fact, he had tried to stop Sirius from coming in. Tried to cover up this monstrosity.

"At home? No. Like hell am I – what are you _thinking_ , Lily _?_ " His attention was entirely on her once more; "Merlin, this is fucking _Snape_!"

Snape's fingers twitched against his wand.

"I know who it is, Sirius." She glowered at him; "And I –"

"How can you even think about this? It's disgusting! How can you let him _touch_ you?!"

"That's enough! Severus and I, we – "

"Stop! Just stop. I don't want to hear it."

Just hearing the words 'Severus and I' escape from her lips, the 'we' that followed was enough to make him feel _sick_. Had he and Remus walked in five minutes later his eyes would have exploded from their sockets.

His mind raced, as it quickly put the pieces together; Lily's behaviour for the past few weeks. Late nights at the new Fellowship. 'Meetings with Dumbledore', which he was now beginning to suspect never took place. How she and Snape had suddenly stopped speaking at the Order meetings; going from the warm friends they appeared to be to pretty much nothing.

That had happened _months_ ago.

Sirius was so blind.

"Well you _need_ to hear it." Lily was speaking, furiously composed, almost calm; "If you want –"

"If I want what, Lil'?" His temper flared; "If I want to be in your life? If I want to see Harry?" Lily shook her head, even if he knew that's what she must be thinking, the card she held in her back pocket; "Go ahead, say it!"

"Sirius, calm down." Moony again. The infuriating, spineless, voice of reason within the group.

"You can't approve of this?" Sirius rounded on him; " _Calm down_? Are you _serious_?"

He caught Severus roll his eyes and his tempered spiked, turning back to the person who actually deserved it; the man that he loathed with every fibre of his being; "You stay the hell away from her, you hear me?!"

Snape looked at him then and Sirius could have sworn there was a look of self-satisfaction in his eyes, before it was overtaken by the familiar distain he was used to.

"I mean it, you stay away from her or I'll…I'll fucking _kill_ you, Snape!"

"I'd like to see you try."

"You'll get your fucking wish then!"

"Stop it." Lily stepped forward then, away from Snape – small victories – and in front of him now; "We're not kids anymore."

"You're right, we're not. In fact, you've _got_ a kid. Harry. Remember him?" Sirius turned his eyes to Snape then; "That's James' son, by the way, in case you didn't know."

"Sirius." Lily glowered at him; "Let's go home."

"Yeah. Say goodbye. Because you sure as hell won't be going anywhere near this git once we're out of this place."

"And who are you to make assertions like that, Black?" Snape practically drawled and Sirius could swear the bastard was actually _amused_ by all of this; taking more than just a little bit of pleasure that he had gotten one over on him in this. Screwing his best friend's misses.

"I'm her family, Snivellus. _That's_ who."

"Ah. And family is something you take very seriously."

Sirius bristled at the thinly veiled nod to the situation with Regulus. But, hey, he could have some fun of his own with _that._

"That's right. I do."

"So much so that you cannot wait the customary time for your brother to turn cold in his _grave_ before you coming crawling out to take everything he made for himself."

"You're one to talk. Nice big house you've got here, Snape. Freeloading off my brother for the past ten years sure paid off."

"He's not even dead!" Snape snarled, temper beginning to flare, and Sirius felt his own self-satisfaction flicker. Even if fury and rage were still the more prominent emotions he felt at that moment.

"So you claim. But we all know what _you_ are."

"So _Dumbledore_ claims, you opportunistic bastard. And when Regulus returns, all that you've taken from him will go right back where it belongs."

"We'll see."

Snape's eyes flashed.

"You know he cannot reveal himself; that he is running from the very enemy you stand against."

"Maybe he ought to have made better choices then. Rest of us can't be expected to open our arms up to damn _Death Eaters._ All of them should burn in hell."

Snape's hand clenched around his wand.

"All of _you._ " Sirius glared right at him, eyes boring into his; "Regulus made his bed."

Wands flew up then, Sirius more than ready for it; hell, he was _asking_ for it. Asking for a reason to send this son of bitch down to the hell just spoken of.

Their spells lit the room; furiously clashing against one another in the middle of it; merciless attacks; blocking what was fired; corresponding jinxes and hexes fired back. Then he moved onto curses. Those he only resorted to on the field, for enemies.

And, hell, Snape was certainly one of _those_!

"Both of you, stop it!"

He could hear Lily shout at them, even as she stepped back, out of the way. Heard Remus make a similar plea; telling them both to pack it in. They were above this.

_Sorry, Remus, I'm really not._

Sirius had never wanted to cause physical pain so much, _ever_ ; this man who dared to speak of his brother as if he were blood, who dared to touch James' wife and laugh in his face about it. Threatening _everything._ He would take Lily away; he would take _Harry_ away.

And they were telling him that he needed to _calm down._ As if _he_ was the crazy one here.

That honour most definitely went to Lily.

Both wands suddenly flew from their hands; disarmed with an 'expelliarmus' that sounded from the other side of the room. It didn't stop him.

Sirius fist quickly collided with Snape's jaw, sending his head back with a snap; the satisfaction Sirius felt at the physical attack making him grin, but only for a second, Snape quickly responding with a strike of his own; a hook to the stomach that winded him.

The two became a blur of thrown punches; grunts and thuds and smacks sounding with each collision but before either could get the other to the ground, to finish them off, Sirius felt himself seized and hauled backwards, away from him.

Bloody Remus, he realised, when he caught sight of the man's wand trained on him. Lily went to Snape and stood in front of him, between them, placing a hand on his chest to keep him back and saying something Sirius didn't catch.

Snape still looked as livid as Sirius felt.

But the hand Lily placed upon him, her words, seemed enough to stop him. It was _disgusting._

Sirius shook his head, growling at Remus to let him go or else he'd be getting it next, and when Remus released him he snatched up his wand from the floor, storming from the room.

"Sirius." Lily was close on his heels; "Sirius, wait."

Sirius rounded on her once more when they were in the hallway; "Him? _Him? He's_ the guy? _Bloody hell,_ Lily!"

"Let me explain –"

"Explain? There's an explanation? It's _Snape!_ Merlin, if James could see you now."

"Sirius." Remus suddenly spoke up, warningly, from behind her. Sirius could punch _him_ right now, too.

"What, Moony? You think he'd approve of this? Do _you?_ Why don't we find out? Yeah. Yeah, let's go tell him right now. See how quickly it sends him to his grave because I'd be willing to bet anything that this would _kill_ him."

Lily only stared back at him, chin lifting defiantly, even if her eyes betrayed the hurt that he would attack her like that. Use James against her.

He would. He'd say anything to get her the hell away from Severus Snape and James would thank him for it, if he could.

"You're out of line, Sirius." It was Remus who spoke.

" _I'm_ out of line? The only person out of line, here, is that slimy, greasy son of a bitch."

"That's enough, Sirius." Lily snapped; "This is Severus' house, you can't just barge in here –"

"Like hell it is, this is my _brother's_ house."

"Sirius –"

"Just shut up!" He snapped, throwing his hands up; "Both of you. Just go to hell."

He turned, strode down the hallway in a haze of blind fury, half a mind to turn back and go back to the room Snape was in; finish him off once and for all.

He didn't.

He didn't want to have to even _see_ him. And he didn't want to look at Lily, right now, either.

He burst through the main entrance, gratified by the release that slamming it outwards awarded him with, if only for a second, as he stormed out into the night.

* * *

"Go after them, if you want."

Lily did want to. She _needed_ to. She had to speak to Sirius, to sort this out, before things got any worse. If that was even possible. She couldn't imagine a worse possible way he could have found out about them.

But she didn't want to just go running out of the place, either. She needed to smooth the whole thing over here, as well.

Lily buttoned up the rest of her blouse, flustered, embarrassed and furious at what had just happened.

"Was a duel really necessary?"

"He fired first."

"And a fist fight?"

"Again. He struck first. Do you expect me to just stand there and take it?"

"Of course not," Lily sighed; "I just wish…I just wish you two could sort it out. Come to an understanding."

Severus shook his head, turning away as he straightened out his shirt, reaching down to lift his robes; "You know we can't, Lily. Don't even ask."

Yes, she did. The scars were too deep. The wounds still fresh. Just as Remus had warned her.

"A ceasefire, then," she said and she noticed Severus' lips twitch when she did. She reached up, running a hand through her hair to tidy it somewhat, and then stepped towards him; "Are you alright?" She could already see the tell-tale signs of a bruise forming on his cheek, a trickle of blood from a swollen lip.

Severus shot her a look; "I can handle Black." He turned to face her fully then, tilting his head to the side as he regarded her; "The question is, can you?"

Lily frowned.

"That conversation isn't over."

"I'll deal with it."

"You have to make sure he knows the stakes, Lily. Lupin, too. No one can know about this. It's –"

"I know, Severus." She silenced him, placing a hand on his arm.

Severus drew in a breath and Lily held his look. She half expected him to throw in the towel on them there and then. Because of discovery and the danger it posed, or, even, simply a wish to disentangle himself from her now that he had just had a front row seat to the dysfunctional family dynamic that he'd eventually have to contend with when this war was finally over.

Severus' hand came up, instead, fingers tucking her hair behind her ear and his thumb trailing her cheek; "You should go. Now."

Lily nodded; "Yes." She took a step closer, kissing him softly, careful of the cut on his lip, before pressing her forehead to his; "But I'm not done with you, yet."

Severus smiled.

"We'll try again soon." She winked as she stepped back and he rolled his eyes, but the smile still lingered, even as she turned and headed from the room.

* * *

This was unbelievable.

Had Sirius not seen it with his own eyes, the ghastly sight so brutally before him, he would never have considered it to even be _possible_.

Lily was sleeping with Snape.

Even when they had fought about him, when she had so adamantly defended him against Sirius' accusations, he had not entertained the thought. The idea that Lily would even go there so improbable, so ludicrous that it didn't merit a second's thought.

But, Merlin, it had been so _obvious_. And just because he considered Snape to be the most repulsive being on the planet, that did not mean he should have left himself completely blind to the threat that he posed. An error in judgement that could not be rectified.

He knew this wasn't the first time.

To think just a few hours ago he had actually been happy, thrilled even, that Lily was taking those steps, opening up and finding someone new. Oh, how his ancestors must be _laughing_ at him right now. And for Lily to let go of James only to end up doing the horizontal tango with that odious excuse of a man _;_ not acceptable. Revolting. _Outrageous_.

If ever asked to provide an example of a physical manifestation of evil, Severus Snape would be it. Everything that Sirius had turned from, had run from as a child, he could see it in him from the moment they had first set eyes on one another. Slytherin house and pureblood supremacy and the Dark Arts they coveted. Snape, up to his ears in them and wielding them, _creating_ them, without shame and then spending his days grovelling at the feet of a man who wanted people like Lily _dead._

People don't come back from that. People don't change that much.

"That went well."

"Piss off, Moony."

"Charming."

" _You_ don't seem surprised."

"I had an idea."

"And yet you did nothing."

"What could I do? It's Lily's life."

"You're alright with it, then? Lily and him. It's fucking _Snape_ , Remus!"

"I know who it is."

"Do you? Do you remember? He's gonna break her; he's gonna get her _killed_!"

"It doesn't matter what I think about it, what matters is what Lily thinks. Not me, not you. Don't push it, Sirius, or you'll lose her."

"She's fucking Severus Snape. She's already _lost_."

"Don't. I'm serious. You'll push her away. We're her friends, not her keepers; we don't get to decide who she gets to be with. Who she loves."

" _Loves_? Don't even go there, Remus."

"Why not? Lily's there."

"She told you that?"

"I can see it."

This was so much worse than Sirius could get his head around. The thing between them so far gone that _love_ was now involved. How could this be?

This had to be a nightmare.

"From what I gather, the relationship is something they want to keep to themselves."

"Good. Least it shows that Lily knows it's wrong; that she's ashamed of it."

"I don't think shame has anything to do with it. Snape thinks –"

"Now you know what _Snape_ thinks –"

"Snape's a spy. It's dangerous for people to know about them."

"All the more reason for Lily to stay away." Sirius shook his head, still in a state of disbelief; "What is she _doing_ , Remus?"

"What she wants. If it's a mistake, let her make it."

"No."

"You've got no choice."

"There's _always_ a choice. And Lily's the one making the mistake here."

"You can't stop her. Neither of us can."

"I can give it a damn good try."

"Then you'll lose her. You'll just make her fight harder for him; push them closer together. You hit the nail on the head back there, Sirius; if you want to be part of her life, part of Harry's, then you have to stand back and let her live it."

"You said it yourself; he's dangerous. He'll hurt her. If not himself, he'll _get_ her hurt. People will come after her."

"He wants to keep her safe; that tells us something. It tells us he cares."

"Like that matters. He's so wrong for her it's unreal. How can she even _want_ him?"

"Ask questions like that all you want, Sirius; it's not going to change the fact that she _does_."

* * *

Lily could find no trace of either of them on the grounds when she left, little option left other than to return to the house and wait.

Sirius would come home, eventually, after all. And, in the meantime, she could try and compose herself a bit better, try to figure out how to handle this whole thing.

Sirius actually coming upon them like that was the last thing she expected. Yes, he had inherited the property from his brother, but Lily didn't think he actually spent any time there. Late at night. With Remus. He had just finished finalising selling the place up, after all, and had told her he was done packing it all up days before.

Lily could be grateful for one thing, at least; that Harry hadn't been with them, having been invited to stay with the Weasleys for the night as a late celebration for their youngest boy's birthday.

Sirius returned sooner than expected.

"Where's Remus?"

"Went home. Thought we needed to talk. Alone."

Lily gave a nod, supposing that was true.

Sirius seemed hesitant now that the information had sunk in, no longer consumed with the fiery rage that had been apparent in his expression when Lily had last seen him.

A humourless smile came to his lips; "I'm an idiot."

Lily frowned.

_An apology?_

_That_ was a surprise.

"You were angry."

"Not about that," Sirius bit out, glancing away; "I'm an idiot for not seeing it sooner. It's obvious, now, looking back. You'd get so fired up about him. Always spending all that time at the Foundation. But then, it's not exactly the first thing that would come to mind. Even now, I _still_ can't believe it. You with Snape. Of all people."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means. He was a Death Eater, Lily – he still could be – he was one of _them_. Those people ruined our lives; they took James from us."

"Sirius." Lily shook her head, speaking quietly; "He's _not_ one of them. Not anymore."

"It doesn't even matter. The fact that he _used_ to be is enough. The things he's done, you can't seriously condone them, can you?"

"No worse than your brother. Everyone makes mistakes. Holding onto them doesn't help anybody; people move on. We can't expect them to remain static, in the same place they were when they were kids."

"Regulus spends every second of his life regretting it."

"So does Severus."

"Hell, Lily, It's not even close to being the same thing! Regulus was _forced_ into joining by our parents and their brainwashing. Snape grew up with muggles, for Merlin's sake, he obviously didn't have pureblood superiority drummed into him when _he_ was a kid."

"You're making assumptions about things you don't even know."

"I know my brother."

"And I know Severus."

"You only know the side he's letting you see. The side that wants to fuck you. He wants you so he'd say anything to have you. You forgetting the guy lies for a _living_?"

"He's fighting _for_ us, Sirius. He can't change the past. He can't go back and change what happened; all he can do is be the person that he is now. You may not like him but even you must see what he's doing for the Order. He's giving it everything that he can."

"Doesn't mean you have to drop your knickers for him. You don't owe him anything."

"That's not what it is. I –"

"Please don't say it."

Sirius drew in a breath, meeting her eyes; "How long?"

"Does it matter?"

"I want to know."

"Three months."

Sirius shook his head, slowly, looking away; "Right."

"I know it's difficult for you, Sirius. I know there's history. I'm not going to say you have to get over it. I'm just asking you to look past it; see _now_. Like what you're always telling me to do."

Sirius shook his head; "No."

"I trust him, Sirius. I _know_ he's good. If you don't, then just trust me."

"It's not just that, Lily. You lied to me. For months. And now you're telling me to trust you? Bad enough he spends _his_ time skulking and lying; now he's got you doing the same, too."

"I'm sorry," Lily whispered, shaking her head; "It wasn't just you, Sirius. It's…it's the way it has to be. With everyone. Because of his role in the war, he can't –"

"Anyone he's connected with is in danger. Yeah, I got that. Seen it with Reg. Good to know you get it too. Though it does bring us back to the whole ' _what the hell are you thinking_ ' aspect of our conversation."

"Sirius, you don't understand –"

"Damn right. I don't understand how you can throw your life away – again – over some guy who's asking you to lie to us; to your family, to your friends, to your _son_."

"It's bigger than us. It's Voldemort. It's the war."

"Lil', you've spent the past seven years _frozen_ because of what happened to James; not moving. Wasting your life away. And now you're finally letting go, finally ready to be with someone else, and you choose _him_. Snape! Even if he was a decent guy – which he is _not_ – _no one_ is worth putting your life on hold over. No one. You deserve better than that – _Harry_ deserves better than that."

Lily closed her eyes, shaking her head; "I –"

"If you say you're in love with him, I'm walking out that door. It's not good enough."

"It is for me."

"What do you expect me to say, Lil'? Huh? That it's alright? I'm fine with it? That I'm _happy_ for you?"

"I don't expect you to say anything. I…I just hoped you might understand."

"You knew I wouldn't. That I don't."

"Sirius –"

"We're talking about _Snape,_ Lily. I mean, do you have any idea how much I – how much _James_ hated him? He wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want him anywhere near his _son_."

"You've spent the past seven years telling me to stop making my decisions based on what James would want."

"Spitting in his face wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Screw you, Sirius, that's not what I'm doing."

"It's hardly respectful to his memory."

"James would want me to be happy. I know that. So do you."

"Not with fucking _Snivellus_. And don't stand there and tell me you're happy, how can you be? This isn't a life. It's a lie."

"Look, it's complicated, okay? I know that. But if it's enough for me, it should be enough for you. He _does_ make me happy, Sirius. More than that. I've never…I can't walk away, alright? I just can't."

"You're throwing everything away, Lily. If you do this, there's no going back."

"I don't want to go back, Sirius. I want to move forward. With him."

"Well I can't be there when you do."

"Wh - what?"

Sirius lifted his chin, his resolve evident.

"That's not fair." Lily's voice shook now; "It doesn't have to be that way."

"That's the way it is. I can't stand by and watch this happening, okay. I don't accept it. I never will. Go ahead with it, if that's what you want, hell, I'll even keep my damn mouth shut about it – not that it's something I really want to broadcast from the rooftops anyway – but if you do, I'm out. We're done."

"But…Harry –"

"We'd work it out. If you want. If you'd still let me see him."

"Of course I would!" Lily swallowed, shaking her head and stepping forward; "But…Sirius, please. Don't – think about this, will you? I know it's always been James, he's what kept you with us, but…but you and me, we're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are. Least I thought so. That's why I'm saying this – because I _do_ care about you, Lily. It's got nothing to do with James, not all of it, anyway. You deserve better. I've spent this whole time since he's been gone trying to protect you, to help you, and you've been doing nothingto help yourself. _Nothing_. You've just been coasting through life and, even now, when you finally have a chance, you're choosing _wrong_. It was different when it was with James, I got it, but now _Snape_? I'm just…I'm _done_. You wanna do this; you do it alone. That's it, Lil', it's your choice."

"You said it yourself, we're family."

"Then choose me."

"Sirius." Her voice was a whisper, shaking her head; "I can't."

The fight in his eyes was suddenly gone, his expression crumbling as he looked away, and when he looked back there was grief there; wishing, hoping she had chosen differently. But his resolve was still apparent, also. He would do it. He would leave them.

Lily bit her lip, stepping closer.

"Sirius –"

"I'll be gone by morning."

"No, that's – that's too soon. We need to talk to Harry first –"

"You're his mum. You do it."

"Don't do that. Don't punish him for what I'm doing."

"I'd never do that. If he wants me, he's got me. But I'm not fighting any more battles for you. Not anymore."

Sirius shook his head, passing by her, making to go upstairs.

"Wait."

Her voice came out choked, pained. She had known for some time now that this would happen, that it had to happen; she and Sirius had to stop what they were doing. They had to put some distance between them. But not like this. Not so final. Not with goodbye.

Sirius looked at her, seeing the sadness she felt, and he drew in a breath, a sigh and then shook his head; "Lil', I want you to be happy, alright? I do." He shrugged; "I just know you won't be."

Lily said nothing, shaking her head slightly.

"G'night, Lil'."

Sirius was gone before dawn.

* * *

His Uncle Sirius was there but he wasn't allowed to play.

It was well past bedtime, his dad had declared, when Malachi had eagerly gone to greet him, realising who had burst through the door. But then, he had quickly picked up on the fact that his uncle wasn't in a good mood. Malachi didn't really like it when anyone was angry, never knowing quite what to say or how to behave, and it was his first time seeing his uncle so; before that, he didn't think the man ever _did_ get angry.

He was always so happy, so good-humoured whenever Malachi saw him, that the dark fury radiating off of him meant that he offered up little protest when he was sent back to bed in his little corner of the shack.

But, despite his uneasiness, he listened in all the same to what he and his father were saying; feigned sleep, even when his dad's chuckles met his ears.

"Good for him."

" _Good for him_?" his Uncle Sirius repeated, as if scandalised; "You must be…no, actually, you're right. It _is_ good for him. Pretty much everything is! Nice house, good job, pretty girl, who just so happens to be his worst enemy's wife, spreading her legs for him –"

"Do you mind; my kid is here." Regulus interrupted, sounding stern, but when Malachi peeked an eye open his dad's eyes were dancing with amusement.

"It's disgusting!"

"What's the problem? It's not like _you're_ sleeping with her."

"It's Severus Snape, that's what the problem is!"

"Don't be a jackass, Sirius."

"He's a slimy, dangerous, crafty little bastard who ought to be –"

"Ought to be _what_?"

His dad didn't sound amused anymore; his tone was snappy, laced with something Malachi wasn't quite accustomed to, a tension in the air seeming to come out of nowhere, for his father had been acting as if his Uncle Sirius' rage was the funniest thing in the world up until this moment.

He guessed his dad didn't like him saying bad things about Severus.

Thinking about it, Malachi didn't either.

"It's not the same thing."

They were still speaking, quieter now, seemingly on the brink of an argument. Something Malachi had become used to, in the past few months, for the two men always seemed to only be pretending to like one another when his uncle showed up for his visits. Then again, that was no surprise. His dad had told him from the start that he _didn't_ like his brother and was very, very angry when Malachi had finally got to meet him.

"It is the same thing," his dad hissed, volume lowered; "We're _exactly_ the same."

"He's –"

"And you know what else, we're _all_ the same. You think you're so much better than him?"

His Uncle Sirius pursed his lips together, eyes darkening; "No doubt about it. And I've got the clean, unbranded arm to prove it."

"Go back to Potter's wife, you're not staying here."

"What? Getting too personal, little brother? We have to talk about it."

"I don't have to talk to you about anything."

"I know it wasn't your fault."

Malachi quickly squeezed his eyes shut once more when his dad stood up, chair creaking and scraping when he did, for he had launched himself to his feet so abruptly that it was forced back slightly by the movement. He strode away from him, away from his Uncle Sirius, to the other side of the shack, coming to a stop at the window and Malachi guessed that, had it not been for the walls, for the fact that he and Malachi were not supposed to step out beyond them, that he would have happily carried on and on until his legs could carry him no further.

Ready to run.

That was something Malachi was learning, fast; his dad was really good at running.

"You're not one of them, Reg. You never were. You're damn _constellations_ apart from what men like Snape are like."

"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? You don't even know him. You don't even know _me_."

"You're my brother."

"Blood isn't everything. Believe me, _that's_ something I've learned the hard way time and again for the past two decades. It doesn't bind people and it doesn't segregate them either; _people_ do that. We make the choices."

"Reg –"

"Just don't. You don't get it, okay? You never will."

"I can –"

"Sh."

Something was different. The way his father spoke changing in a second; no longer laced with resentment, shame, now replaced by guardedness and, as Malachi was quickly beginning to identify, fear.

Malachi's eyes opened fully at the realisation, lifting himself slightly up off of the bed.

"Malachi." His dad was suddenly at his side, yanking him out from beneath the blankets; "Malachi, up!" His tone was hushed but it did not conceal the urgency.

"How did they –" his Uncle Sirius' voice held the same panicked note.

His dad yanked up the floorboards, quickly pushing Malachi towards the passageway they had created; "Go, _go_. You remember, right?"

Malachi did. They'd rehearsed this, the escape routes, for every place they had been held up in the past few months.

He jumped down into the tunnel, his Uncle Sirius following immediately after him, just as a roar sounded overhead; a shattering and a blast, before the floorboards suddenly rearranged themselves above, locking him and his uncle beneath them.

His dad was still in the shack.

"Lucius."

Malachi could still hear his dad's voice.

Lucius? His uncle.

Malachi hesitated, eyes on the boards above, even if he couldn't see anything; could only hear the voices. But, then, surely everything was okay; it didn't matter if his Uncle Lucius had been the one to find them, did it? He was his Auntie Cissy's husband; he was family.

The thoughts went no further, Malachi suddenly finding himself seized by the collar and forced further down the passageway. He started to speak, to tell his Uncle Sirius it was alright - it was Uncle Lucius – but the man's hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him, and his urging was rough, hurrying him away.

The hand didn't release him until they stumbled out into the woods, some distance away; "It's okay, Uncle Sirius –"

"Be quiet!" he hissed.

His Uncle Sirius was frantic, eyes darting around the woods. Suddenly, a crashing sounded, drawing both their eyes to the direction of the shack. Lights lit up the inside; firing forth between the two tiny windows. Voices, cries joined them; more than just the two men they had left.

Others had come now.

They had come for his dad.

"Da –" Malachi lunged forward, panic gripping him, but his Uncle Sirius seized him once more; told him to hush up, be quiet, _get down_.

Malachi was forced down onto the rough ground below, and he forced back the protest as pain shot through his knee, branches scraping and tearing at the skin of his arms.

"Come here, come here." His Uncle Sirius was whispering, quickly, dragging him across the ground by the arm; "Can you fit in there?"

It was a little gap, tiny, beneath the ground and a fallen tree; fallen so long before that shrubbery and weeds had grown all over it.

Malachi didn't think he could; "I don't –"

He didn't get a chance to answer, quickly being pushed towards it, making him try. Pushing him down.

"I need to help your dad."

"Sirius."

They both spun around, looking up from the crouched positions they were in, his dad suddenly behind them.

"Dad!"

Malachi launched himself at him and he was swept up into his arms; held tight. Not in a hug, a relieved greeting, but still in panic and he registered his dad saying that they were still coming. They had to go.

 _Now_.

His Uncle Sirius disapparated merely a second before they did, disappearing with a pop, and his dad made the same motion after. But Malachi was sure he saw something, someone, not too far away when he glanced back over his father's shoulder.

Malachi almost smiled but it faltered when he realised it wasn't possible, because she was gone.

But, for just a second, Malachi thought the woman he saw watching them, head tilting to the side, a little in the distance; she looked _just_ like his Auntie Andie.

And then he and his dad were gone.

* * *

Lily had only herself to blame.

Remus had been right in the first place; she and Sirius had gotten themselves into an impossible situation, only digging themselves deeper as time went on, entwining their lives in a way that just wasn't possibly sustainable. Not if they weren't planning on taking it further, on committing to one another in a way which neither of them had ever intended.

Young and grieving, they had leant on each other much too heavily in the aftermath of James' death. She depending on him and Sirius stepping just a little too much into James' shoes, so much so that they allowed even themselves to become confused by the situation in the end.

But their own confusion, the fallout of their decisions, paled in comparison to the confusion of one little boy who, at first, could only stare at his mother is sadness, shock, when she had been forced to reveal the circumstances to him the following day.

His Uncle Sirius had moved out; it was just the two of them, from now on.

"But…why?"

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid it was time for your Uncle Sirius and I to make a change. Things as they were, they were only supposed to be temporary. We were never supposed to live with each other for so long."

"But I liked us all living together."

"I know, Harry. So did I. But it just wasn't appropriate. Not anymore."

"What does that mean? Appropriate?"

"It means…usually at our age, when a man and woman live together, it means their relationship is…well, that usually only happens when they're in relationship. When they're married. Or very soon will be."

"Is…is this because of my dad, again?"

"No, Sweetheart. No. It's because of me. It's time to move on."

"Move on?"

"Yes."

"You mean…you want to get married again?"

"No. Not just yet. Sometimes it's good for grownups to live alone for a little while. Before they're with anyone else again. For now, it's just you and me. Which makes _you_ the man of the house; how does that sound?"

"Rubbish!" Harry declared; "I want Uncle Sirius here too!"

"You can still see your Uncle Sirius whenever you like. It'll be just like how it is with Uncle Remus."

" _Whenever_ I like?" Harry repeated, carefully.

"That's right."

"I want to see him now."

Lily almost rolled her eyes; "We'll send him an owl, then. When we're finished talking." She hoped Sirius would answer; that his fury with her would not lead him to ignore it, to punish her and, in doing so, Harry because he was still angry.

"Sweetheart," Lily sighed and reached out, squeezing his arm; "I know this is hard. I know how much you love him. But this is…it's how things should be. If we stayed together like that, then things would never change, things would never get better."

"Better? How?"

"Well, think about your Uncle Sirius. What he did for us was very kind. He loved your dad and us very much, so much that he stayed with us, waited until we were ready, for him to go and have a family of his own –"

"But I don't _want_ him to have a family of his own. Then I'll _never_ see him."

"Harry, that's not true. You'll always be special to him. He loves you. We both do."

"But you don't love each other anymore?"

"We never loved each other that way. Not the way that people…well, not the way that people need."

"Need?"

"That's right. The kind that makes you happy. You and me, we're very lucky, we have each other. And, although you don't remember it, we had your dad before also. Your Uncle Sirius deserves to have that with someone, too."

Harry looked like he was mulling over the information, the reasons she was giving him, but it was too much, too suddenly, Lily knew, for him to fully understand. Sirius had never even presented Harry with a girlfriend before, nevermind dropped any hints at hoping for a wife. For all of his insistence that she move on, there had been very little inclination on his side to do so, either.

Harry, however, had once expressed a wish for it from her. But she couldn't even, really, make the promise of that to him. The situation with Severus was too uncertain and she would not get her son's hopes up, make him think that there was the possibility for a future for them, too, if she could not follow through with her words.

If Lily allowed her mind to go there, of course. She and Severus had never really discussed the future. Certainly never discussed what it would look like, the two of them and Harry, once the war was finally over. In truth, she and Severus had never spoken about the long term plans of their relationship at all. Severus seeming adamant, before they even got together, that he could offer her nothing of the sort - a family – and that was something she had to accept. Told her to walk away.

But she hadn't, she had stayed and they didn't elaborate any further on the issue.

And, besides the fact that everything was incredibly complicated, it was also still very, very new. They were barely out of the honeymoon stage; still not entirely passed the phase of just wanting to have one another whenever they got the chance. And, yes, she was in love with him, and, right now, every hope she _did_ have for the future included him in it, but maybe it was too soon for them to be talking about such things. What it would mean when Severus was finally free from the war and if, when he was, whether or not those things he was adamant he could not have would be suddenly on the table.

But it would be irresponsible for her to let it go on, as things were now, without broaching the not-exactly-minor issue of how Severus felt about her having a son. James' son. What was now happening with regards to Sirius making that plainly obvious.

Remus had warned her months ago to get it sorted; to ask him.

She hadn't.

The fact that Severus could have nothing to do with Harry right now meant that the question could be easily avoided.

Both Lily and Severus knew that what they had, now, could be all they were ever going to get.

But assuming that to be definite would be just as imprudent as assuming Harry and Severus would never have to meet. That those two pieces of her world would never collide.

And she had just received a rather unwelcome taste of how such a thing could go, if she were not to prepare herself for it.

Lily couldn't avoid the issue anymore.

Remus' concerns were valid. Even Sirius had brought up Harry, seeing the concern even through his blind rage.

And surely Severus must have considered it, even if he had not broached the subject. It wasn't as if she never mentioned her son, whatsoever.

As difficult, as awkward as the subject may be, Lily couldn't allow them to get into a situation where, a few months, years even, down the line, they would be suddenly faced with the prospect that her son was a deal breaker. That Severus could not reconcile the truth of his parentage. Or, even, just that he didn't want children at all. Even if he had known about Harry from the beginning.

But Severus had promised her nothing for the future. Entirely focused on the nowwhen he had told her his thoughts, his feelings regarding their relationship and his message had been clear.

He had said nothing about _after_.

He had not spoken of the child that already existed.

Looking at her little boy now, as he struggled with what was going on, already bearing the burden due to _this_ mistake – one of many – she knew that she couldn't let it happen again. She couldn't bury her head in the sand and assume things would work out themselves out.

"Can we send him an owl now?" Harry finally asked, meeting her eyes.

Lily smiled, nodding. Used a summoning charm to bring parchment and quill to the table; "Do you want to write it?"

Harry nodded, "Okay."

He began to do so, while she sat next to him, offering assistance only when he asked. He looked up at her, smiling when he was done, and held it out to her; "Can I stay with him sometimes, too? Like I do with Uncle Remus? Will I get my own room?"

"Hm. That's something you'll have to ask him."

"He'll let me."

"Oh will he?"

He nodded, confidently, giving her a bright smile. Lily couldn't help returning it, just glad of the fact that he was offering a smile, rather than tears, after what he had learned. She reached up, giving his shoulder a squeeze, rolling her eyes knowingly when he asserted with confidence.

"Uncle Sirius will let me stay with him whenever I want!"

* * *

Remus managed to resist the big fat ' _I-told-you-so_ ' slipping from his lips in the aftermath of what had happened.

Catastrophic, indeed.

Quickly, the change in their dynamics had made themselves known. Lily's previous upset when Remus had checked upon her the following day quickly giving way to anger at what had transpired, at the way that Sirius had both reacted and attacked her.

Remus didn't agree with him, either, but he wasn't shocked by it; not in the slightest.

No, shock right now was reserved only for Sirius. Who had turned up the following evening, looking shaken and just as furious as ever, as he had come in response to Harry's owl; long after his Godson had retired to bed.

Punishing Harry for Lily's choice was unacceptable, even Remus agreed as much, though the ensuing argument that followed between she and Sirius was nasty, brutally honest truths and accusations fired back and forth between them.

"Where the hell have _you_ even been the past seven years; don't tell me _I'm_ not there for him!"

"Don't give me that, Sirius. You knew he needed you here today; that's why you did this. To punish me."

"I don't give a damn about punishing you, Lily; you're practically dead to me right now as it is."

"Then where were you? Harry's been waiting here for you all day."

"Not shagging bloody Death Eaters, I can at least promise that! Where are you all day when _you're_ not here, huh?"

And so it went, on and on, until they _finally_ listened to him and settled down to talk rationally about the situation. About Harry.

Lily and Sirius bickered throughout as if they were undergoing a divorce. It was almost as if they actually _were._

The topic of discussion; visitation rights.

* * *

Well.

Black's theatrics certainly did have _some_ benefits.

Lily was here, with him, in the residence that he rented, with no immediate plans or need to depart; looking, for all intents and purposes, as if she _belonged_ there.

It was their first real test, the 'great reveal'. Prior to the recent discovery by Black and Lupin – _Lupin again, as if he had some sort of radar that detected their illicit affairs at every turn_ – he and Lily had remained almost blissfully ignorant from all the influences of the outside world that ought to keep them apart.

Being more than a little private, himself, he doubted the reality of a relationship with Lily, even under other circumstances, would be all that different; he would always be discreet in public, his true feelings saved only for her.

With Black's detection, and his ensuing hissy fit, they receive their first true douse of reality that they had so studiously avoided in the three months since they had come together. And the ensuing consequences were exactly as Severus had promised her they would be, when he had attempted to convince her to just walk away.

Any satisfaction he may have gained from being proven right was chased away by the very real possibility that she _would._

Past the point of restraint, now, he knew he was in deep enough that Lily doing so would crush him. _Idiot_. And Severus had not been at all certain, in the moment she had gone after Black, that when faced with an ultimatum, that Lily would actually choose him.

But she _had._

Perhaps he should feel shame, guilt, that being with him had led to it; that such measures had to be taken in the first place. Even if it was only Black. But there was little that could measure up to the elation he had felt when she had come back to him, telling him what had happened, and reassuring him that he was still what she wanted. That the ordeal had not weakened her will.

They would go on.

In fact, following the incident, things had turned out rather well. For _him_ , anyway.

An ensuing, almost, _custody_ arrangement had then taken place regarding what would be done about the boy – Lily's son – now that Black was no longer living with them. Severus had pointed out that the boy was _Lily's_ son and that Black had no claim to him whatsoever but his indignation on her behalf was unwarranted; she was fine with what had been arranged, comfortable with him remaining so prominently in little Potter's life.

She had said it through practically gritted teeth, which belied her current feelings about the man.

And so, the arrangements were made. Harry Potter would spend two days a week with Sirius Black; Monday and Tuesday nights.

For them, a compromise.

For Severus, _bliss._ As, suddenly, Lily was now freed up two nights a week to do as she wished.

And Lily opted to spend said nights with him _._ Their previously indeterminate time together now giving way to a certain schedule; Monday nights, Lily would come to him, leaving only when work or Order business called upon it, and wouldn't return home until Wednesday evenings, when Harry Potter returned.

"Sirius was a complete jackass about the whole thing when he came to collect him this evening."

It seemed that Lily was still angry.

Severus fought a smile, held back any interjections of his own, as he leaned back on the couch, book in his lap, while Lily paced the floor in front of him, a font of livid words regarding one Sirius Black – _he who dared to question her state of mind, her devotion to her son, her ability to make her own choices. He who dared to use said son against her, not to mention her husband's –_

Lily had quickly broken off, then, meeting his eyes almost guiltily, but Severus only returned her look evenly, unaffected by the mention. The slip. She forgot herself for a moment, there; they did not talk about Potter. Steering clear, her ravings quickly resumed when the simmering fury quickly boiled over once more; back to Black.

Lily raged in exactly the same way she had when they had been children.

It was a rare occurrence, only resulting when Lily felt particularly slighted by someone, but it was comfortably familiar, taking Severus back to times long before when he had been the one she would come to. It was always him she sought out and he would sit patiently, much the same way he was doing now, and just look and listen, offering only the occasional utterance which went practically unnoticed until she had satisfied her need to _explode._

It was a welcome return to how they had once been.

Lily broke off, suddenly, frowningly; "What is it?"

"What?"

"You're _smiling_."

Severus realised he was. He quickly corrected himself. Matched her frown.

The tension in her seemed to break then; her shoulders dropped and she rolled her eyes, looking away for a second, and then meeting his with a sheepish smile.

"God. I'm ruining this, aren't I?"

Their first two days together, uninterrupted, just the two of them.

Severus found he didn't mind; he quite liked the seeming return to normality for them, back to how things had once been. Almost as if another hurdle had been leapt, another step taken, Lily turning to him in her time of, well, _fury_ and happy enough to offload her woes

"It wasn't the evening I expected. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying this."

She _was_ ranting about Black, after all, and though she was saying nothing that he couldn't have concluded himself – _pig-headed, self-righteous douchebag, had she called him, well, that was rather tame when compared to Severus' thoughts_ – it was rather amusing to hear the various profanities escape her lips with regards to the man.

Of course, the part of his mind that always enjoyed raining on his parade reminded him that Lily wouldn't be furious like this if she didn't care. If Black didn't mean something to her. She was hurting, here. Black had done that.

The man was, by no means, _gone_. Even if he had opted to walk.

He would be back.

Lily sighed and sat down in front of him, looking regretful now; "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"I just –"

"You needn't explain." Severus spared them both the heartfelt rationalisation for her outburst, the reason for which he had only just contemplated; "I know how it is."

"Still, I shouldn't be…well, dumping all this on you."

"You're not 'dumping' anything on me, Lily. Besides, what is happening is not unexpected and I'm not entirely free from responsibility with regards to what is happening."

Lily's eyes flashed; "That doesn't excuse him –"

"That it doesn't." He conceded, figuring they were otherwise on the brink of a further outburst.

Lily rolled her eyes; "Or me going on and on about it."

"As I said, I don't mind."

"As you said, you're enjoying it?" She teased, a slight smile on her lips. He doubted she knew the reasons for it, that he was happy they had reached the stage where her guard had dropped, completely, for a moment but he wasn't going to elaborate; let her think he was just amused at hearing the insults thrown at Black, instead. After all, that had only added to his amusement.

Severus shrugged and reached up, hand caressing the side of her neck. The fire in her eyes softened, then, and she smiled, tension leaving her completely.

"Alright. I'll stop," she said, lightly, her smile widening, before she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. Once again, his mind answered, he didn't mind, but he found that, as endearing as Lily's outburst had been, _this_ was a far more appealing way to engage themselves, for the time being.

* * *

"Breakfast!"

Severus squinted against the sunlight, Lily's voice rousing him.

She smiled at him, brightly, wide awake and dressed only in a shirt of his; plopping down onto the side of the bed next to him, placing a tray of food down atop the covers.

Severus rolled onto his back, tucking a hand behind his head as he looked up at her.

Everything about this was all incredibly new to him.

Under normal circumstances, he would be long gone by now. Forgoing breakfast entirely. Off to Hogwarts to prepare for the upcoming classes of the day. Today, though, and every Tuesday and Wednesday for the foreseeable future, he was certain that he would be stumbling through the floo of his office at the castle mere minutes before his first classes were to begin.

He glanced at the timepiece. 6.50am. Still plenty of time to enjoy himself, here.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Lily leaned down, giving him a kiss.

She drew back, lifting a slice of toast from the tray she had presented, and taking a bite; "I might be late tonight. There's a case that Healer Clay wanted to go over with me."

"Alright."

He figured that was the appropriate answer to such a statement. What else would he say, after all? That he demanded she be home in time for dinner?

This was just _strange_. Following the conclusion of Lily's outburst the previous night, they had quickly found other ways to engage themselves, interrupted only when the need for food had drawn them back to the kitchen; tucking into lazily prepared sandwiches, not at all suitably dressed, as if they had all the time in the world.

And, this morning, breakfast in bed.

Severus hadn't ever considered having this with _anyone_ , let alone with Lily.

She looked totally at ease. As if she had done this a hundred times before.

Severus quickly pushed away the ensuing surge of bitterness that arose when rational thought reminded him that she _had_.

With Potter.

Instead, he squeezed the bare knee exposed to him, and then reached for some food of his own – an apple – and took a bite.

They carried on as such, enjoying the untried domesticity of the situation; Lily, in his shirt, eating breakfast with him, giving him a cheeky little smile when their eyes met, reaching up to tenderly brush the pad of her thumb against the side of his lip – _jam smudge –_ between comments about the day ahead, upcoming Order tasks, along with needless expressions of how one another had slept the night before.

But as sleepiness wore off, his senses sharpening as he came more into himself, he became acutely aware of somethingthat Lily was holding back; something on her mind that she was opting not to express. Though she seemed to wish to; seemed to be weighing up the opportunity.

Severus, now sitting up, back to the headboard, eyed her curiously; "What is it?"

Lily met his eyes sharply; "Nothing."

He raised an eyebrow.

She held his look for a moment, seeming determined to feign ignorance, but as the silence stretched her determination wilted and she averted her eyes, now looking uncomfortable, uncertain. She cleared her throat, shaking her head, her voice quieter; "It's nothing…well, not _nothing._ I mean, nothing's _wrong._ I don't think, anyway. At least, I hope –"

"Lily."

She met his eyes.

He waited.

She sighed, shooting him a grin; "Right. Rambling."

His own lips twitched but he carried on waiting, saying nothing, infinitely curious now and not letting her off the hook. Frankly, conflict and serious discussion was something he was far more accustomed to than playful bantering over tea and toast.

"It's just…we've never really talked." Lily began, looking almost nervous, but she seemed to push it away. Finding her resolve, as she spoke the next words; "About Harry."

Severus frowned.

"There has been no need. The Dark Lord has expressed no further wish to –"

"Not Harry, the possible prophecy child. Harry, my son."

Severus stared at her a second, words dying on his lips, and then he pursed them together, entirely uncertain of the etiquette to follow when faced with the matter of your lover's offspring.

He cleared his throat; "I see."

Lily looked at him, hopefully, as if she expected him to speak; expected him to express _something_ regarding the circumstances but he was at a loss.

Harry Potter was something, someone, he rarely allowed his mind to dwell on. Thoughts of the boy always quickly led to thoughts about the boy's father and, even now, his loathing remained as strong as ever; his encounters with Black in the past few months only reminding him of it, keeping it fresh.

As such, he had simply either ignored the issue or, as Lily had made reference to, only really thought of him in relation to the threat that the prophecy posed to him, to _her,_ and understanding the need to protect Harry Potter, at all costs.

Severus had never, truly, stopped to think of him as a living, breathing child; avoiding the few attempts by the boy to connect in the past, steadfastly. Harry Potter had always been, to put it bluntly, a task.

Now, though, said task was very quickly about to become an issue, a subject of discussion; one they were about to have _right now._ He could see it in her eyes.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Lily brushed the hair back from her face, seeming to think about it for a second, before she shrugged; "It's just – well, _this._ What we're doing right now. I mean, is this what we're looking at? What we're heading towards?"

Severus glanced, needlessly, between them, at the shirt she wore, at the bed, the tray that still lay upon it, now carrying the remains from what they had eaten; empty plates and cups, apple cores, toast crusts.

"After all this is over," Lily added, when the silence stretched; "The war."

Severus met her eyes; "It does have a certain appeal."

Lily's eyes softened, the uncertainty in them falling away, and she gave her a small smile; "Well, there's a big part of that picture that's missing here."

Severus held her look. She went on;

" _Someone_."

Severus nodded, conceding the point; "Yes."

He may not have considered the issue before but there was no denying it; if they carried on, if they _did_ manage to reach that point, such a stage that she could be to him what Severus did not deny he _wanted_ , then Harry Potter came as part of that package.

"I need to know how you feel about that."

Severus avoided her eyes at the statement, as he considered it, how he felt. In that second, he didn't, honestly, know. There was, undoubtedly, bitterness when thoughts of James Potter came up, that she had married him, that they had had a child together – thoughts which always seemed to follow on the heels of any thoughts about the boy – but would those feelings then transfer to the son? To the point that he would actually forgo what he could possibly have with Lily?

Not a chance.

At least, that's what his immediate, gut instinct provided for him. If he was currently willing to stand against all the other things they were currently up against, to take on those odds, the likelihood that he would get to the end, having _beaten_ them, and be granted with the option of accepting her, all of her, including Harry Potter, or walking away; the very thought was ludicrous.

Severus smiled, slightly, realising that, yes, it was.

There was just no way.

Of course he would accept the boy. Of course he would make a life with her, with both of them, if they ever had that chance.

"It's fine, Lily."

"Fine?"

"Yes."

Lily gave a small laugh, seeming disbelief, but there was definite relief in her expression, a lightness in her eyes now at his reassurance; "'Fine', I'm guessing, doesn't quite cover it?"

"And yet it does."

"That's all? No uncertainty; no nervousness? Sev, he's a seven-year-old boy. A huge handful."

"You forget I am a professor at Hogwarts. Not exactly a stranger to the trials that come with dealing with unruly youths."

"You don't know Harry." Lily grinned, now, her uneasiness beginning to leave her.

"Perhaps not. But I will."

Lily's grin left her then, as she regarded him; recognised the sincerity in his statement. She smiled, warm now, with a deep sincerity of her own.

"I'm quite certain I can handle him."

Lily raised an eyebrow, eyes suddenly sparkling, his reassurance leading to a resurgence of her merriment; "He has a propensity for cheek and finding trouble that would rival even that of his father."

"Ah. Not quite unlike his mother, then?"

Lily laughed at that, but shot him a look of mock offense; "Watch it, Professor."

Perhaps they were fooling themselves by even entertaining the notion, the idea that it would ever be an issue, that Severus would even have the _chance_ to demonstrate the sincerity of his words.

But he wanted, more than ever, to prove it to her; that he would. He would accept the boy. He would take them both.

For now, though, all he could offer were words.

And he knew where Lily's true uncertainty lay, here; that it was more than merely the fact that she had a son. However much of an unruly pest the boy may be.

No. Lily was asking him something else. Had already made reference to it in this very conversation; the boy's father.

"Lily."

She met his eyes at the seriousness, the sincerity in his tone when he spoke again.

"Contrary to what Black suggested, I am well aware of who your son's father was. I won't deny that the fact is a rather, well, _unpleasant one_ , to me. But said unpleasantness is rendered almost irrelevant when considered alongside the larger issues at hand here –"

"But we can't always think of it that way, Severus. It might seem small compared to the war, now, but when we don't have to deal with it anymore, when it's just us, our perspectives could change. They _will_ change."

"This won't. Because, even if that were to be the case, there are…other feelings that render it practically obsolete. Certainly it would never be so great that I would chose the alternative option."

Lily held his look, as she considered his words. His indirect assertions that, quite frankly, he couldn't care less who Harry Potter's father was; not if it meant he would have to give up _her_ as the price to pay for keeping his foolish pride. Frankly, Lily could declare that the boy was the offspring of the Dark Lord himself, right now, and he doubted it would send him running.

Severus knew what he wanted.

Lily smiled.

He knew, then, that he had convinced her. The future suddenly seeming clearer, the picture of it that much more appealing, now that it suddenly had the potential to become real.

"Other feelings?" Lily tilted her head to the side, teasingly, eyes endearingly curious, even if he knew she must know exactly what he meant.

Severus wasn't playing games.

He meant everything he was saying to her.

"I love you."

The playfulness in her expression gave way to surprise, almost shock.

And then a slow smile came to her, different than before, along with an instant brightening in her eyes; each betraying delight. She lifted her chin, still smiling; "You've never told me that before."

 _What_?

_Preposterous!_

How could he not?

But then, considering it, perhaps that was true. For, to him, loving Lily Evans had become something so natural to him that it had become synonymous with the very essence of normality. The statement so evident that it need not be spoken, at all. After all, he would not, for example, walk up to Regulus and announce _"the sky is blue"_.

Yet, that he had never told her, had never spoken the words, well; that was totally unacceptable. While he was certain it was something Lily most definitely _knew,_ for his actions and behaviour more than revealed it to be so, it was something that ought to have been expressed once in a while, surely, over the course of the past three months.

Nonetheless, they were spoken _now_ and he would not repeat them again, not at this moment, as repeating them seemed as if it would diminish their worth. Not to mention the fact that he was not _so_ far gone that he would ever resort to needless repetitions and mutterings of sweet nothings.

The very thought almost made him cringe.

"I would have thought it was obvious."

Lily's smile widened; "It is." There was laughter in her voice.

He smiled and she laughed, then, drawing him to her for a kiss. He didn't even glance at the timepiece as he reached down for the hem of the shirt she wore; hell, he would _make_ time if he had to. Not at all ready to head back out there right now.

The small taste of domesticity granted to them giving him a glimpse of something more than he could have ever hoped for. The shadowy path ahead seeming lit now by the promise of the future.

Severus knew that what he was saying was honest, that what he believed was true. There was, quite literary, _nothing_ that he wouldn't do for her. He had known that to be the case for a long time.

As if he was going to let that resolve be brought down by such a minor issue as a _child_.

Lily giggled against his lips.

Severus carried on, completely certain in his resolution that, one day, he should be quite happy to finally know Harry Potter.

After all, how much trouble could one little boy truly be?


	35. April 1988: Grudges

No one could claim that Lily Potter was above holding grudges.

Hell, she was quite certain she could take one and carry it with her until the day she died.

But Lily had more than met her match when it came to the resilience of Sirius Black.

Who, even after all these weeks, was still adamant to maintain the cold, aloof hostility that had settled between them; treating her as if falling for Severus Snape was the worst possible offence she could have ever committed.

She could be angry. Indignant. Yell to the stars in the sky that it wasn't fair. That it was none of his business.

But, deep down, now that her own fury had simmered down to mild resentment, leaving only hurt. Because, after all these years, surely they were above this.

It can't have always been about James. At some point, their friendship must have become in some way just about them.

"I say good riddance. It was about time you were shot of him."

"Jules."

"What? Honey, I get you're upset about it but if he were really a friend he'd understand. Harry needs stability. And he wasn't going to get that with that old fart hanging around all the time undermining every decision you made. Black just needs to accept it; you're his mum and, quite frankly, you're more than strong enough to do with him. Without _any_ man."

It was a little more complicated than that, Lily wanted to say. Fought the desperate urge to reveal the true nature of the situation, for Julia always had a way of making things seem far less dire than they seemed. And, for all Remus' reassurances and unwavering loyalty – even if Lily could see that he, too, far from approved of her choice here – there was just something about confiding in another girl that always helped put things into perspective.

But that wasn't an option.

Just having Sirius and Remus know was a luxury neither she nor Severus would have permitted, had it been within their control.

Well. _Luxury_ might be pushing it.

"Besides, all Tighty-Drawers has really been doing all this time is keeping you from getting a good lay."

Lily laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Aren't I right? Nothing like a raging, over-protective live-in guard dog to keep the suitors at bay."

"Hardly, Jules. There's not been anyone for him to chase away."

Strike one.

"Oh, please. Don't think I don't see what's going on here. You chucking old Black out can mean only one thing; you're finally embracing the big bad world."

Lily shrugged, taking a drink from her cup.

"And don't think I haven't noticed those rosy cheeks of yours. Come on, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Don't act coy with me. I can always tell, honey; people get a certain look about them when they're getting some. And all I can say on the matter is; _finally_."

"Don't be silly. I'm not."

Strike two.

"What's with the secrecy? I told you all about my little venture into 'Black' territory a few months ago."

Right. Regulus Black. Julia had nothing but good things to say about her old boss' performance, Lily remembered. Though her playful demeanour had quickly vanished when news trickled quickly down that Sirius' younger brother had been murdered, that very same night, at the Foundation.

Lily had been unable to tell her otherwise. The truth of the matter coming from Severus.

Another thing to add to the endless list of strikes that carried on accumulating.

Julia's eyebrows wiggled, playfully; "Did you finally get down to business with a certain Professor? Guessing the shy, silent types don't appreciate the whole 'tell' side of the bargain."

Lily pursed her lips together; "I wouldn't know."

Strike three.

"Oh really?"

"What with the Foundation shutting down last year, there hasn't been many opportunities for Severus and I to even seen one another. And I've been busy. With work."

"Oh, don't remind me. This Fellowship is really ragging on me."

"Not enjoying it?"

"Working with the kids is great. It's the _parents_ that drive me up the wall."

Lily giggled; "We do have that effect."

"Well, if it's not Mr Tall, Dark and Sexy – I'm guessing Black had something to do with chasing away that golden opportunity, right? Pft. His loss. Anyway, if it's not him; well, there's gotta be someone. I can tell."

"Jules –"

"Someone from work?"

There was a knock at the door, signalling Sirius' arrival; a coming that Lily had come to dread over the past few weeks. Though, in this instance, Lily was glad of it. If it only meant that it would put the brakes on Julia's questioning.

If only.

"Hey, Black, what do you know about Lily's new mystery man?"

Sirius was barely even across the threshold, freezing in his steps just a little in the doorway and meeting Lily's eyes. She shot him a warning look.

His eyes darkened and he pushed the door shut behind him; "Mystery man? Don't be daft, Bradbury. Lily's got a full time son now. She'd know better than to get involved with someone without thinking how it'd affect him first."

"What makes you think she hasn't?" Julia jibed back, not missing the intended slight; "Be good for the kid. Having a _man_ around."

Sirius shot her daggers and Lily rubbed her temples with her fingers, hoping this wouldn't become a thing; "Harry, Uncle Sirius is here!" she called out.

Within minutes, Harry was down the stairs, sporting the backpack he had learned to pack every Sunday night and his broomstick held tight in his hand, greeting Sirius with a wide smile and a hug, before going to her to bid her farewell.

Lily grew to both love and hate Mondays. Dreading the moment, this moment, when her son would tell her he loved her before leaving to spend the following two nights with Sirius. Odd, for she never now, nor in the past, ever felt so when he went to spend the nights with Remus.

But this was different. Remus was, most definitely, 'Uncle Remus'.

And Sirius, while he bore the same title to her son, well, there was no denying that Harry viewed him as something much more. No denying that even she, Lily, had admitted as such by allowing the visits, this arrangement, to go on as it did.

But she had only herself to blame, as she kept reminding herself; the consequences of her younger weakness meaning that she now found herself in the circumstance where she practically shared custody of her son with a man who was not even his father.

"Got plans?"

Lily met Sirius' eyes at the question; "Excuse me?"

"While I've got him." Sirius elaborated, as Harry walked over to him. He put a hand on her little boy's shoulder; "I mean, if you're not going to be here and I need to find you – for Harry, obviously – then how do I get in touch? If you're going to be somewhere else –" he broke off, raising an eyebrow; "Maybe with this 'mystery man' Julia's talking about, don't you think you ought to leave me an address?"

Lily glowered at him, temper almost instantly ignited, but she bit back the instinct to snap back in turn; "I think you know Julia is joking, Sirius."

"Hm. I wasn't sure."

Lily's jaw clenched at the smugness in his expression.

"So. If I want to get in touch, I'll just come back here then?"

"Or you could save yourself the trouble and send a _patronus,_ Sirius, like we have _always_ done in the past?"

"Are you gonna fight?" Harry spoke up, suddenly, and when Lily looked at him his eyes expressed obvious unease at the tension between them.

Lily drew in a breath, forcing a smile, her voice reassuring; "No, Sweetheart, we're not." She took the few steps forward, drawing him into another hug and pressing a kiss to the top of his head; "We're just mucking about." She took a step back, releasing him; "Off you go then."

Lily studiously avoided Sirius' eyes, the temper he had quickly ignited with his underhanded comments successfully trounced by the distress in her son's expression.

Sirius took him by the arm, gently, leaving without another word.

"What a prick." Julia declared when he had gone; "Jeez. Honey, if that was my kid, I'd be telling Black where to go."

"It's complicated."

"So I noticed."

Didn't they all.

* * *

James Potter was laughing.

James Potter was taking Lily's hand.

James Potter was kissing Lily's neck.

_Enough._

Severus averted his gaze, breaking eye contact and withdrawing from her mind, sharply.

Some things were just too repellent to endure.

Nonetheless, it was not the first time over the past few weeks he had been presented with such sights. Seeing far more than he would ever be comfortable with of Lily's previous relationship with the man. But, even then, the sight of the two of them, the moments they shared and that her mind still kept locked up tight, did nothing to answer the questions that Severus still did not dare to ask.

All he could see when confronted with the memories of them was happiness. Light.

And Severus couldn't help but think that it was no wonder Lily had held onto hope for the other man for so long.

Even if the thought made him sick to his stomach.

His blood boil in his veins.

"You're supposed to be keeping me out."

"Believe me, I'm trying."

"Try harder."

There was an edge to his voice that he couldn't help, that he could see she picked up on, but Lily was becoming almost immune to it now. She knew to expect it. His aggravation when he delved just far enough, deep enough to see it.

Lily was aware of his enduring loathing for her husband.

Even if they still avoided discussion of him.

"You're the one who wanted to do this." Lily pointed it out with a look that told him he had only himself to blame for the current situation, for the sights he was forced to witness, and she was right.

But there was no other choice. Their relationship had to be kept secret. For both their sakes.

And, while he was entirely certain of Lily's resolve, there were other ways their connection could be revealed than through words – or, even, through sworn enemies bursting in right as they were about to get down to business – and one of those other ways was one which he had the ability to protect her from; legilliemency.

Severus had dismissed her concerns before, that she ought to learn it, but now, things were very different. As such, neither had been hesitant when he had stated, during one of their duelling sessions, that he felt it prudent they beginning training in occlumency, also.

Lily was more than willing. Was still, even now, despite the occasional unpleasantness that arose.

Lily had nothing to hide. Nothing she wasn't willing to let him see.

That must be nice.

"I'm never going to get this." She turned away, her exasperation obvious.

"Nonsense. You have managed to keep me from the surface memories; the ones I encounter here are only accessible when I probe further, the barriers not yet advanced enough to conceal all your mind holds. These are older memories, subconsciously recollected. Which might explain the nature of the visualisations I am being presented with."

Her exasperation wearing off, she shot him a look; "Sorry."

"For your memories? Pft."

Merlin forbid Lily should ever look and see any of _his_.

Lily apologised a lot during these sessions. Whenever her mind offered up a particularly displeasing memory – on his side – of her previous life. He always dismissed them, for she owed him no such thing. He was not foolish enough to believe that her life with Potter had been a miserable affair.

And yet she apologised for the confirmation, anyway, seeming to think either that she did owe him that or that he just needed to hear it; he supposed snapping and scowling in the aftermath of seeing them together did nothing to convince her otherwise.

"Okay. I'm ready." Lily straightened up, giving him a nod.

Severus raised his wand.

But, before he could speak the incantation, he was halted by the entirely unwelcome burning of the Mark on his arm.

He tucked his wand away, turning abruptly; "I have to go." He reached for his outer robes, shrugging into them and quickly making himself presentable.

"Oh. Is it…" Lily broke off, suddenly. Knew better than to ask.

Severus met her eyes, with the same regret as always.

Lily gave him a nod; "Okay." He caught her glance at her cloak, where it was discarded over a chair, her scarf on top, as if wondering if she ought to leave, also.

The Dark Lord had never called him from one of their nights together, before.

Severus cleared his throat, nodding in the direction of the kitchen; "Just…help yourself to anything you want. These meetings are often brief." He paused, then added; "Though not always."

Lily smiled, then, and nodded; accepting his invitation to stay. To wait for him.

Severus stepped towards her when he'd buttoned up, pressed a quick kiss to her lips – well, it was supposed to be quick, but he lingered when she reached up, hand caressing his cheek in seeming reassurance – before he turned and left for the Dark Lord's side.

* * *

Remus looked like _death_.

"Hell, Moony. Shouldn't you be lying down?"

"Well I had to get up to let you in, didn't I?"

Remus gave a weak smile when Harry hugged him around the waist; "Are you sick, Uncle Remus?"

He patted Harry on the back, affectionately; "Hm. A bit. Nothing to worry about."

Remus practically limped all the way to the couch, lowering himself down slowly and releasing a sigh, as if it were the most wonderful feeling in the world when he was finally off of his feet; "What brings you two here?"

"I wanted to visit!" Harry declared, throwing himself next to him on the couch and making Remus wince; "You didn't come to the house this week."

"Ah. Yes." Remus nodded, hand going to Harry's shoulder; "I must apologise for that, Harry. Work kept me busy."

"Work?" Harry perked up, curious by an excuse his uncle never gave, for Remus switched between jobs more often than the lunar cycle.

"A new job I have to do," Remus said, by way of elaboration.

Right. Spying.

Remus had spent the past week running with werewolves. That explained the pale, sickly demeanour; the wheezing; the evident new scars.

Another person Sirius worried for.

Remus. Regulus. Lily.

He tried not to think about Lily. She had made her choice. Whatever happened next was on _her_ head.

Regulus, well, things were not going well there at all. Still, red tape prevented the sale of the property Sirius had selected for purchase, meaning that, until that was sorted, his brother had little option but to carry on darting from one place to the next.

A second sighting had happened only a few days before.

The Death Eaters were way too close.

Another week. Just one more week and, then, his brother would be out of reach.

Then he'd be able to relax, finally. At least with regards to one of them.

Well, if one could call it that. For 'relaxing' was not something that was typical of the life of an Order member.

Sirius had barely joined Remus and Harry, only just lowering himself into the chair next to the couch, when Dumbledore's patronus came sweeping into the room, the message brief, urgent; a call to arms.

Both Sirius and Remus stood.

"Don't be daft, Moony!" Sirius shot him a look; "You can barely stand as it is."

Sirius waved off any further protests, demanding that he stay here – hey, you can keep an eye on Harry. It would save him making the customary pit-stop at the Burrow. And then he took off, leaving his Godson behind, making his way to the location as stated by the silver Phoenix.

* * *

A wedding.

Hardly an offensive practice, under normal circumstances; certainly not to normal people.

Over the course of the past several months, they had become a frequent target for attacks by Death Eaters. For a Ministry ally, particularly an Auror or an Order member, to seek to join with another in matrimony came the very real risk that their celebrations would be interrupted, ruined by the simple wish by Voldemort and his followers to strike fear in those who opposed them; sought to prevent the continuation of a life, beyond the realities of war.

Such attacks were erratic, however; some Ministry allies managed to find themselves looked over. Dismissed.

But there was a certain coupling that was never overlooked; a union between a pureblood and muggleborn.

As was the case here.

Sirius ducked to the side before quickly firing a returning jinx.

Bright lights. Screams. Groans of the wounded. All filled the air. Hectic commotion as people opted to flee or fight; some caught up in the confusion of it all – muggles, some of whom unaware even of the existence of the magical world. They seemed to be a particularly delicious target for the Death Eaters.

" _Einlatus_!"

" _Crucio!"_

A familiar voice cried out.

Lily.

Sirius fired without hesitation, sending the offending Death Eater flying with a curse of his own, releasing her from the torture she was held under. Lily's eyes met his, briefly, before he suddenly found himself engaged under the ferocious attack of his cousin; whose eyes looked even more deranged than he remembered as she fought him.

Sirius matched her ferocity tenfold; no doubt in his mind that she had been the Death Eater who had tortured James to the point of incapacitation.

No messing about. Curses.

Curse after curse firing back and forth between them; both driven by their individual stings of betrayal, a depth that can only be achieved by a slight from those of one's blood, the need for vengeance palpable.

"Little cousin knows how to play." She mocked, with a pout, before her eyes darkened and the pout became a snarl and Sirius was suddenly hit with the Cruciatus, more power behind the spell than he had ever experienced and he knew he was screaming, his body coiling and convulsing under the force of it.

The torture was suddenly lifted but not due to interference, no; his cousin's foot was pressed to his throat, dark manic eyes bore down into his from above as she leaned over him; "Filth." She practically relished the word; "Filthy little blood traitor." She trailed the tip of her wand down the side of his face; "Uncle Orion would be so proud of his boys."

Sirius' hand grasped at the dirt, seeking his own wand.

"Where's your baby brother, cousin?" She tilted her head to the side, a slow smirk spreading when Sirius met her eyes sharply; "I know you've got him."

Bellatrix jerked back, suddenly, responding to a jinx sent her way; enough time for Sirius to grasp his wand and spring to his feet. Not enough time to do much else. Barely able to throw up a defensive shield when she engaged him once more, mercilessly, savagely, even more so than before and he fought back, barely able to keep up, his mind reeling under the accusation, the _truth_ behind her words.

Sirius needed to get Regulus under the Fidelius.

Fast.

But Regulus was driven from his mind when he was struck, a slicing of flesh across his torso that had him double over in agony before he was hit once more with the Cruciatus.

Sirius went down.

* * *

Lily had adapted enviously well to the nature of their relationship. Now able to lock away any concern or worry that she may have felt whenever Severus walked out the door; offering up a brave face and smile in its stead.

Severus, on the other hand, was not quite so collected. At least not inwardly.

He barely held back his protests when he thought Lily was taking – totally unnecessary – risks, particularly when she found herself volunteering for dangerous Order tasks that, quite frankly, any other member could easily carry out. It did not have to be her.

Severus' overprotectiveness was entirely unwelcome, however. They had bickered, early on in their relationship, when he had seen fit to voice his concerns.

He told himself that it was merely logical; Lily ought not to make herself stand out any more than she already did. The last thing they needed was for the name 'Potter' to start circling the Dark Lord's ranks once more.

And, on a more personal level, he just did not enjoy the feeling that Lily putting herself in danger evoked. Too close to the mindless panic he had felt at twenty years old, when the Dark Lord had announced his intention to hunt her down.

As such, the fact that he was just now sitting comfortably in Dumbledore's office, chatting away over tea and scones, while Lily battled Death Eaters miles away left him edgy, shifting in his seat. Even if every motion only sent further jolts through him, the lingering after effects of his most recent encounter with his old master.

"The Dark Lord is under the impression that Regulus Black is being harboured by the Order."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, looking curious; "Did he give reason as to why he believes that to be the case?"

"Not to me. Until tonight the Dark Lord has made an effort to ensure I receive no updates on the Regulus pursuit whatsoever. It is only now that he seems to have evidence that the Order is involved that he has sought to…involve me."

Rather, _interrogate_.

"Hm."

Dumbledore looked at him appraisingly, not fooled by the various potions and charms he had taken and cast in the aftermath of his meeting; the effects of the torture still very much apparent in the way his body twitched, slightly, every now and again, the bead of sweat he could feel trailing his temple, the slow way he manoeuvred in the chair opposite.

"And was he convinced that you remain unaware of his whereabouts?"

"It was not difficult, considering that I know nothing of it."

Still, the Order had been unable to locate Regulus, despite the assigned group who had been tasked with locating him. And now Severus was to be forced into the position of returning and revealing that yes, the Order was currently attempting to locate him, for the alternative was to concede that he had already been found and that Severus had concealed it.

Sometimes, Severus just wanted to go down to his dungeons and lock the door.

He pushed his concern for Regulus aside, as he had been successfully managing to do for the past few months. There was nothing he could do and, as he had asserted to Lily when everything had first unfolded, the best thing he could do for both of them was to simply accept that to be the case. That the less he knew on the matter, the better.

Upon dismissal, Severus apparated to Coventry. Skirted the perimeter of the battle that was now dwindling; only a few stranglers remaining behind, squaring off against opposing sides until the other either fell or retreated.

It was a habit Severus had not yet dropped, observing from afar, ready to intervene if the situation called for it.

A careful inspection of the area confirmed that Lily was no longer there, had departed at some point.

The last opponent fell; the victor disapparating.

A stillness fell over the area. A silence.

Severus turned, beginning to make his way from the scene. He could not be spotted. But a low groan nearby stopped him, drawing his attention to one of the fallen. A whimper. Another groan. Even the pained sounds were familiar, Severus almost certain he knew who it was even before the man slumped from his crouched position back to the ground; head turning to the side in the dirt and revealing his face.

Black.

Severus eyed him.

Oh it was tempting. So very tempting.

He could turn and walk away right now. No one would ever know.

Sirius Black panted against the earth. Eyes closed. Brow furrowed.

Severus stared.

Lily came to mind.

Regulus.

With an exasperated exhale, he stepped forward, the sound of his breath and his footsteps making the other man's eyes open. No recognition there; only undeniable, palpable fear as he looked up at him and Severus realised he wouldn't know who he was, that he was in his Death Eater robes.

It would be a lie if Severus said he didn't enjoy it, the look in the Black's eyes, smirking as he easily disarmed him when Black weakly raised his wand.

He wondered if the other man would be receptive if Severus were to remove his mask.

Probably not.

He almost snorted.

Severus summoned the wand, pocketing it, and then reached down, easily grasping Black under the arm and pulling him upwards, even as he fought back, pathetically.

Severus flung him over his shoulder, lifting his own wand and disapparated.

* * *

Sirius struggled to breathe.

Pain. Unbearable pain searing through him.

"Drink this."

Sirius knew the voice.

Knew he couldn't trust it.

Knew he had to fight back.

Sirius recoiled when he felt cool ceramic press to his lips, the first drops of liquid touching them, and he smacked his head back against something hard, wooden, blowing outwards and sending the small amount of potion from his lips in a spray.

A hand slapped his cheek; "Wake up."

Sirius squinted against the light. Eyelids blinking, slowly opening; his blurred vision slowly settling and making sense of who it was standing over him.

Snape.

Sirius jerked backwards, hitting his head once more against the table he was laid upon.

He groaned.

"Good move." Snape held up the mortar to his lips once more; "Drink."

"Piss off."

It came out as a rasp; pathetic, weak.

Snape raised an eyebrow, looking more than a little amused.

This was just _fantastic_.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut.

"Unless you want the last face you ever see to be mine; I suggest you do as I say."

The deities hated him. That was the only explanation.

His ancestors, they had conspired together, sought to ensure he suffered the most undignified death imaginable.

He was dying. He was going to die.

And Severus Snape got to watch.

The last person in the whole fucking universe that Sirius could possibly want with him in that moment was here.

Sirius swallowed, this time, when the ceramic pressed to his lips.

Gagged on the bitterness.

Snape stepped away from him then.

Slowly, his mind cleared, even if the pain still wracked his body; the weakness still keeping him almost paralysed, unable to move away.

His eyes darted around the room, one he didn't recognise.

Sirius flinched when Snape stepped abruptly towards him once more and Sirius realised, to his utter humiliation, that his shirt had been torn open and his chest and stomach were displayed, revealing various gashes and burns that Bellatrix had inflicted upon him before she had turned and left him to die.

He glowered up at Snape; "Pervert."

He could have sworn Snape's lips twitched at that.

The other man lifted his wand and Sirius reflexively drew back; "I don't need your help!" He rasped out.

"So I noticed."

Snape carried on, wand lowering over the wounds, voicing the counter curse that stitched them together, with almost carelessness. A sing-song that sounded downright _weird_ coming from Snape's lips and his mind conjured up various images of Snape taking to the karaoke at a house party.

Sirius snickered.

When the wounds were sealed – a lifetime later, it seemed – Snape stepped back and, lifting something from the side, tossed a wet cloth onto his chest.

Sirius grasped it weakly, dragging it across the new scars slowly, feebly, the best he could do to wipe away the blood.

The sealing of the wounds, the potion he had taken, had done little to take away the pain, the certainty in his mind that he was teetering on the brink of death, here, as Snape walked around the table, casually, as if they had all the time in the world.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Snape ignored him.

"She won't care."

There was a hesitation then, a faltering in his movement, but Snape still didn't look at him. Only ground ingredients with the pestle, carrying on with whatever it was he was going to force down his throat next.

Sirius turned his head away, releasing a harsh breath. This was unbelievable.

The past two years had been a nightmare. With every day that passed, things just seemed to go from bad to worse. Starting with Peter Pettigrew escaping Azkaban and ending with this; Severus Snape being the person he gets to spend his final, dying moments with.

Hate rose up within him.

Hate.

That was to be his last feeling. His final thoughts not of the things, of the people that mattered.

Sirius closed his eyes. Tried to think of the others; of those he wanted, more than anything, to see again.

The only person that came to mind, the only relationship not tainted, shrouded by regret, was Harry.

Little Harry.

Everyone else he cared for, those he loved, all were people he had hurt, had let down, had pushed away.

Regulus.

Remus.

Lily.

Too late, now, to change what had happened. To make it right.

Sirius never learned.

Made the same mistakes over and over again; not listening, not hearing or understanding. Would any of them even really care when he was gone? Maybe they would. Maybe a little. But they would go on; their lives almost entirely unaffected by the loss of his.

What had he ever, really, _done_?

He left nothing behind.

He felt choked then, drawing in a harsh breath, which only served to draw Snape's attention from the mortar to his face.

Sirius averted his eyes.

He noticed it, then, as he attempted to avoid the other man's eyes. A lone photograph on the shelf in the corner; Snape giving him the finger while his brother laughed in the background.

Sirius frowned even as he stared at it. Tried to commit it to memory; the image of his little brother, so young in the moving photograph, the carefree boy he had been in his youth.

Snape had been there, with him, had seen him then. Had known him.

Sirius closed his eyes against the thought, looking away from it when they opened once more and it was then that he noticed the cloak that was slung over the back of the chair next to him. A familiar scarf tossed over it, carelessly.

Lily's.

So, this was where Lily came on the nights he had Harry.

Of course it was. This was Snape's house.

Sirius wasn't a fool; he knew exactly what Lily got up to when Harry wasn't with her.

He lifted his eyes to Snape then, who emptied the crushed ingredients into a goblet of bubbling liquid; "Is she here? Lily?"

Snape met his eyes. There was a change in them, then, at the mentioning of her name.

Sirius held his look. He wanted to see her. If she was.

Snape jerked his head to the side, telling him no, and then he stepped towards him, holding the goblet to his lips.

Sirius drank it.

Merlin. It was _rank_.

He gagged, feeling his stomach lurch and attempt to empty itself of what he'd just swallowed, but he forced it back; like hell was he going to spew his guts up in front of Snape.

Then again, if he could aim it just right…

The pain was suddenly fading. Evaporating. Gone.

Sirius felt like he was floating on clouds. Light-headed. Serene. And, then, giddy.

He sighed.

He caught Snape smirk and something in the back of his mind told him he should be offended, that he should bite back, make a jibe, snipe at him.

But he didn't. Whatever he had just taken chasing away the urge to do so, the urge to fight.

Had Snape drugged him?

Sirius found he didn't care.

Cared about nothing, right now, except the people upon whom his thoughts had dwelled moments before. Remus and Harry, waiting for him, no doubt concerned that he hadn't yet returned. His eyes flicked lazily at the moving picture of his brother, at Lily's cloak.

"We love the same people."

The words escaped his lips before he had the chance to evaluate them, to think about what he was saying. When they did, something deep inside told him to be mortified, to toughen up, but the wooziness beat out.

"Delirium is a common side effect of the potion. It is probably better you – _shut up_."

Sirius didn't. His thoughts were on them now. On Remus. Lily. Reg.

"I…I hurt people. I push them away."

"Do spare me the deathbed confessions, Black."

"Why? I bet you're enjoying this."

"I fear that any expressions of remorse may impede my joy at your imminent demise."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"Likewise."

Snape gave him another potion.

Another.

"Yeah." Sirius let out a laugh; "I am." He nodded, talking more to himself that to the other man in the room; "Just ask Reg. Or Lily! Oh, but, wait, you probably already have, right?"

"Believe it or not, you are not the first thing on my mind when I'm in the company of either."

"I honestly have no idea what they see in you."

"The feeling is entirely mutual."

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, rational thought seeming to rise once more, fighting against the disorientation; "You're a Death Eater!" He announced it as if suddenly realising it for the first time; "You're…dangerous."

"Extremely."

Snape held another potion to his lips, eyebrow raised now, as if a challenge.

Sirius took it. Held his breath as he swallowed, so as not to subject himself to another foul flavour. He was certain Snape was intentionally leaving something out, an ingredient used to counter the taste, to make it more bearable. He had only himself to blame if he _did_ puke his guts up all over the other man's shoes.

"If you really cared about her, you'd stay away from her."

His mind was clearing, now, coming back to himself. The delirium wearing off. The potion he'd just been given seeming to counter the effects of the other.

Except the pain remained at bay. No longer crippling him.

Snape said nothing. Turned away, instead, heading back to the desk where various phials lay scattered alongside goblets and potion supplies.

He lifted several of the glass containers, holding them up and peering in at them.

He supposed that was him done with him then.

Sirius watched him.

Loathing, rising, of course, as was always the case.

But, along with that, something else. Not because of what he had done – apparently, saved him from certain death – but his motivations behind it.

Sirius was not fool enough to believe it had anything to do with him.

In fact, he was quite certain that if Snape had come across him just a few years before, he would have simply walked away and left him to die.

Or, even, stood there and watched. Relished every second.

But not now. Because, like it or not, they _did_ care about the same people.

Intrinsically linked by his brother and the most infuriatingly stubborn woman imaginable.

People who, for better or worse, neither wanted to see hurt.

It was an entirely unwelcome realisation.

Sirius eased himself down from table, doing his best not to appear as pathetic and weak as he felt in that moment, his movements shaky; unsteady footsteps being made towards the door. His eyes landed on Lily's cloak again.

She'd be back for that.

And then, they were drawn back to the picture of his brother and Snape, as he passed by the shelf that it rested upon.

Sirius hesitated, glancing back.

Snape didn't acknowledge him, moved around as if Sirius had already left.

He remembered, then, his encounter with Bellatrix that night. Her words, her threats. If Snape was one of them, he would surely know already. Which meant that what he said next meant nothing.

At least, that's what he told himself, because he couldn't, for the life of him, explain why he even bothered. What made him do it.

"Regulus is fine."

Snape's movements ceased.

Sirius stared; scrutinising him.

He wasn't entirely sure what he it was he was waiting for, what he wanted to see. Proof of innocence? Proof that he cared?

Or, rather, proof of guilt?

Snape met his eyes then.

The other man's expression was different this time. Guarded. As if Sirius had got him, somehow; found a weakness.

Sirius realised for sure, in that moment, that he had.

Snape drew in a breath, tilting his chin upwards, a cool acknowledgement of the statement. And then he jerked his head in a sharp nod – which Sirius assumed was supposed to be gratitude – before he turned away once more. Carrying on as if nothing had been said.

Which Sirius preferred.

The last thing he had intended to happen as a result of the words had been to get down and emotional with Severus Bloody Snape.

He was forgetting where he was for a moment, forgetting who he was with.

"Don't you have a home to go to, Black?"

Sirius started at the words. And then he glowered.

"I did until you came along."

Snape met his eyes. Raised an eyebrow. Looked neither apologetic nor remorseful over the fact.

But he said nothing. No retort. No gloating.

There wasn't even self-satisfaction in his expression this time.

Rather, he just looked at him, Sirius returning it as they seemed to see the truth of the matter for the first time. That, for most definitely _worse,_ the two of them were never going to escape one another.

The other was always going to be there. Laughing and loathing and jibing.

Sirius rolled his eyes, taking a step back.

_Fucking Severus Snape._

He turned away then, his strength having been increasing with each minute, the potions, the spells cast gradually coming into effect. Left the house without another word.

Even long after he left, he was still haunted by it; the totally uninvited recognition that Severus Snape was actually _human_.

* * *

"Sirius! Oh my god!"

Lily pounced on him as he walked through the door to Remus' flat.

"Lil'?" Sirius frowned; "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you! Remus was worried – we were _both_ worried – where have you been? I checked St – what _happened_?" Lily's eyes darted over him, the torn front of his shirt easily displaying the fresh scars beneath it, even if he had drawn the fabric over in an attempt to cover them, sticky blood matting it against his skin.

Maybe he ought to have cleaned up a bit first.

Sirius flicked his wand, casting a quick cleansing charm, but Lily, the Healer, suddenly took place of Lily, the worrier, and seized him by the arm, drawing him to the couch.

" _That_ won't do it." She lifted her wand, eyeing him over; "You need to clean those up, properly. And you'll need a blood replenishment potion." She lifted her wand, muttering some incantations, and then she paused, looking at him curiously after a moment; "Which you've already taken?"

Sirius gave her a grin; "What, you think I go into these things unprepared?"

She raised an eyebrow, studying him sceptically for a second, before she tightened her grip on her wand once more; "Right." She murmured further incantations as she continued checking over him; "I didn't know you were so adept at brewing potions."

"I'm not."

Lily met his eyes for a second, before frowning and carrying on.

"Suppose it's a good thing lover boy was there."

 _That_ got her attention.

Lily stopped. Met his eyes.

Sirius only returned her look, evenly.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Brow furrowing as she made sense of what he had said.

"Severus helped you?"

He said nothing. Let the silence speak for itself.

Sure, he might have helped him. Saved his life, even. And, perhaps, Sirius might have seen something a bit more in him; something that, before, he would have quite sincerely _sworn_ could not possibly be there.

But it was still Snape.

And Sirius wasn't going to sit there and spout praise about the man. He certainly wasn't going to let Lily think he was actually _okay_ with the fact that she was with him.

Lily went back to work, lifting her eyes heavenward when he said no more, but there was a slight smile there, now, on the edge of her lips, her expression warming, though Sirius knew that neither were for him. Her mind seeming to leave them for a moment, no doubt heading off to the clouds where her head seemed to spend most of its time nowadays.

"Where's Harry?"

"He's asleep. Remus is –" Lily broke off, suddenly, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut, before she lifted her wand and sent off a patronus; "He went out looking when I got back. I told him I'd go back out –" she shrugged; "- he insisted."

Sirius gave a small smile.

"He looked like utter crap when I saw him earlier."

"I noticed." Lily stated, brow furrowing; "I think it's worse than last time. He's hiding it but…"

"Yeah, I know. I'll keep an eye on him."

It was the most civilised they – he – had been in weeks. As if nothing had ever happened. As if everything were back to normal again.

He missed this. He missed her. Her and Harry.

Sirius had made a promise, years before, over a firewhiskey and a laugh in Hogsmeade; James turning to him in drunken candidness, the war weighing heavily on their minds even as they frolicked in the bars, asking him to take care of his wife, his baby, if anything ever happened to him.

Sirius had made the promise with a grin and a raised glass; neither truly thinking that it was a promise he'd ever have to fulfil. Both entirely convinced of their own invincibility.

But, somewhere along the line, his motivations had changed. It wasn't just James anymore, as Lily had said some weeks ago. Both he and Lily were passed that now; coming out the other side of the grief of losing him and finding themselves here.

Sirius loved them. And it was that, and only that, which gave him purpose. A reason to get up in the morning.

Sirius needed them.

But Lily didn't need _him_.

Sirius had seen it, clear as day, in the moment that Lily stood toe to toe with him that night, Snape and Remus behind her – they, too, seeing that she didn't need _them_ , either, to stand up for her; Lily could stand alone. She would.

And it had hit him like a punch in the gut. Even through the disgust, the astonishment, the betrayal.

Lily had grown beyond him now, leaving both him and James behind, and the determination in her eyes had told him that it was all over, the house of cards they had built crumbling with the understanding that she was ready. She wanted to go.

Even if it pained her, both of them, to finally let it happen.

"Okay. You're done." Lily stated, drawing him from his thoughts and tucking her wand back into her sleeve; "But you better get cleaned up. Properly. Remus has some salve I got for him, I'll ask him where it is when he –"

"Lil'."

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

Her surprise was evident, head drawing back just so as her eyebrows twitched upwards for a second. And then, she simply stared until a small finally smile came to her, even as she lifted an eyebrow; "That's got to be the last thing I imagined I'd hear from you right now."

"I guess almost dying made me forget myself for a minute."

A chuckle escaped her and she tilted her head to the side, as he went on.

"I've been a dick. To you, mind. I'm not saying that what I thought, what I'm still _thinking,_ is wrong. Just…well. Remus thinks you can handle it."

"Handle Severus?"

"Handle everything, I'm guessing. Remus seems to think you can do anything."

"And you?"

"Well. I'm willing to be here when you can't."

Lily slapped him playfully on the arm, shooting him a glare.

Sirius smiled, giving her a shrug. And then she met his smile with one of her own and a nod but before either could say anything more the door to the flat opened and Remus walked in, looking just as pale and weary as he had when Sirius had left him earlier but his eyes, instead, conveyed relief when he saw him there.

"Alright, Moony?"

Remus eyed him; "You look worse than me."

"Ha. Don't count on that."

Lily grinned, shifting and making as if to stand up; "Do you want me to take Harry tonight?"

"What?" Sirius looked at her sharply.

"Well, as the two of you just pointed out, you look like hell."

"Ease up, Lil'. I haven't had the chance to get my make-up on yet."

Remus snickered as he gingerly lowered himself into the chair.

Lily fought a smile, rolling her eyes; "If you're sure?"

"I'll keep them here, Lily," Remus spoke up.

"See that. Good old Remus is gonna take care of me."

"Right." Lily stood, then, indicating at his chest; "Get those cleaned up."

"Yes, Mum."

Lily smiled at him and shook her head as she made her way to the door, giving Remus a parting squeeze on the shoulder as she instructed him to 'make sure you get him that salve' just as she was leaving. No doubt in Sirius mind as to where she was heading off to, now that she'd got the three of them straightened out.

Waited for an ensuing surge of bitterness that, this time, didn't come.

Sirius leaned back, watching her go, and, for the first time in a very long time, he really believed that they were all going to be alright.

* * *

Severus had tried to stay awake.

He'd come across the note Lily had left, hastily scribbled and placed on his pillow, just after Black had departed; telling him sorry she wasn't there, that the wolf had sent for her and that she'd be back later, if it wasn't too late. Don't wait up.

Severus didn't last long. The events of the night taking the little energy he had in the first place from him, the potions he had taken himself to dull the lingering aftershocks of the Cruciatus making him drowsy, unfocused, even when he had been dealing with Black's injuries.

Sleep just wouldn't wait.

But he left the door unlocked. Just in case.

It paid off.

Only an hour or so after drifting off, he felt the mattress dip behind him, cool arms slipping around his waist as a familiar body moulded itself against him.

Severus peered, blearily, over his shoulder; met with bright green eyes and a wide smile.

His voice came out low, husky with sleep; "You look happy."

Lily nodded against his shoulder, still smiling; "Mhm."

Ah.

Lily had spoken with Black.

Severus turned, slightly, to touch his forehead against the side of hers.

"Thank you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. And then she tightened her arms around him, snuggling in close and burying her face in his hair, presumably ready to sleep.

Severus wouldn't object to that.

He reached down, linking his fingers with hers and drew her hand upwards, pressing a kiss to her palm, before settling back down himself.

Sleep coming easily to them both.

* * *

Severus sat down next to Lily at the next Order meeting.

She turned confused eyes his way.

 _This_ was a change from their previously agreed behaviour. They were supposed to stay away from one another, as much as possible. Even among their allies.

And, even if that were not the case, it was still a deviation from the norm as, ever since the Order meetings had resumed months before, Lily always sat between Sirius and Remus; Severus opposite.

"Good evening, Professor," she commented, wryly.

Severus gave her a nod; "Mrs Potter."

He seemed tense.

Remus approached, eyeing Severus with curiosity at where he was seated – in _his_ seat – and walked on by behind them both without hesitation or a word, taking the seat on the other side of Sirius.

Lily looked away when Sirius' realisation of what had happened became evident, turning from him as he turned towards her, half-expecting a comment, but Sirius remained silent.

Severus' wand was on the table in front of him, his fingers resting lightly against it, the index tapping the wood, almost in anticipation of having to use it.

"I was just speaking with Arthur," Remus' voice sounded, drawing her attention in his and Sirius' direction; "Death Eaters attacked the Auror, Ryder Stone, last night. His house. Killed his whole family."

Another attack. Further deaths. All adding to the ever-increasing death toll; muggleborns and their sympathisers quickly coming under scrutiny and attack in recent months.

But this was different.

"His _house_? How did they find out where he lived?" Sirius straightened, looking alarmed.

"Friends of theirs said his wife had been worried for a while, said that Stone was sure he was being watched. He played it down at the time but…" Remus shook his head, breaking off.

"First the Waters, now the Stones. It's just like last time," Sirius said, lowly, though it didn't matter if anyone overheard. Soon, anyone who hadn't already would hear of it. Dumbledore likely to give the details of it upon his arrival.

"But where we _live,"_ Lily spoke up, her anxiety gripping her steadfastly; "Eaton Waters wasn't an Auror, he was just an Order member. Not even a fighter! How would the Death Eaters even know –"

"Right. Some of the information they've been getting are things only people in the Order would know. Or, at least, someone with access to it." Sirius eyes went passed Lily then, to Severus sitting beside her.

Lily shot him a warning look and Sirius turned away.

Lily drew in a breath, turning her attention back to Severus, who remained silent, still, not looking their way.

She kept her eyes on the table, her voice low; "Everything okay?"

Severus glanced at her out the corner of his eye but said nothing.

"What's wrong?"

"Stay sharp."

"What?"

"Sh."

Dumbledore strode into the room then, making his way to the customary seat at the top of the table. Even he seemed to notice the new change of seating arrangement. His eyes lingered a moment on Severus as he walked by, glancing between them both. Severus returned his look evenly, before the Headmaster gave a slight nod and a knowing smile, before turning to address the rest of the table.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm sure by now you have all heard of the tragic events that took place last night…"

Dumbledore carried on. Carried on speaking kind words about those who had been lost, almost a eulogy, before going on to make vague, indirect comments on how they ought to respond. His words eventually becoming empty, saying nothing but things that everyone already knew.

It was almost as if he was reluctant to speak details, even when met with the uneasy questions of those in the room. Questions asking how Voldemort and his followers could have possibly known the identity of Waters, how they could have tracked Stone to his home, whether or not the rest of them were safe; their own families, their children.

Lily felt a chill run through her.

Dumbledore, however, remained as calm, as stoic as ever; reassuring and commanding, all at once, as he encouraged everyone to remain strong.

Severus, beside her, said nothing. Sat by her side, even more tense than he usually was at these meetings, fingers still twitching against his wand where it lay on the table.

Lily was becoming accustomed to the little signs, the little actions of his, that were indicative of what he was thinking, feeling. Quickly recognising when he was irritated, when he was embarrassed, when he was pleased.

In this instance, despite his blank expression, Lily could pick it up from the little tap, tap, tap of his index finger against his wand.

Severus was anxious.

Something was very wrong.

As if on cue, an alarm suddenly sounded.

Shrill and urgent and deafening.

A breach of the wards.

Severus' wand was snatched up, instantly. Everyone else following suit, scrambling to their feet.

Death Eaters were suddenly everywhere.

Those too slow to react hit the ground first; the first to be hit with the jinxes, the Unforgivables.

It was chaos.

The attack so unexpected, the location of it – _Order Headquarters_ – so unthinkable, that confusion rippled through the room, even as the Order members fought back.

" _Crucio_!"

Remus hit the ground. His cries of agony joining the cries of the others within the room; cries of pain, of incantations, of instruction.

Sirius hit back at the Death Eater who struck him, engaging them at close range.

" _Get out, we have to get out_!"

The room was not large, making it difficult to move, to fight back, to be certain they wouldn't hit one of their own as their spells fired forth; Death Eaters seeming to come in from all sides.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

Lights fired forth everywhere. People ducking and firing, almost aimlessly, all skills and knowledge of battle rendered almost useless by the circumstances they found themselves in; stumbling over the fallen and bumping into one another.

And then someone saw sense, fired a spell that blew out the wall behind them; Death Eaters and Order Members spilling out of the room and onto the grassy turf outside.

They engaged one another, ferociously, as all found their bearings, the playing field evening out now that they were outdoors; Death Eaters no longer surrounding them, losing the upper hand of surprise.

" _Einlatus!"_

" _Crucio!"_

" _Avada kedavra!"_

They fought mercilessly and Lily, previously firing as hastily throw spells came her way, quickly found herself engaged with an opponent; curses fired forth, for the appearance of civility had been long since lost in the months since Voldemort returned.

No one held back.

Curses.

Not jinxes, not hexes.

They were all, everyone, beyond that now.

" _Globus ignis!"_

Lily ducked as ball of fire flew her way, the heat scorching even as it missed, flying passed her; engulfing someone behind, as they screamed in pain.

" _Fulmina!"_

" _Sectumsempra!"_

Her opponent doubled over but they recovered fast, the unforgivable shooting her way before Lily could even react; _"Crucio!"_

It was not unfamiliar.

But it was a sensation one could never develop an immunity to, a tolerance.

Every time unbearable, searing, agonising; the intensity, the endlessness of it always quickly leading to thoughts that it would be so much better just to _die_ than to feel it a moment longer.

Lily screamed, as she writhed on the ground.

And then her opponent was struck. Hit from behind with a non-verbal. Falling to the ground with a thud.

Lily's vision cleared when the Cruciatus was abruptly lifted.

Severus stood a little way away, anxious eyes only leaving her when hers met his.

She got to her feet, eyeing the Death Eater she knew Severus had hit; still breathing.

A body-bind.

It was tamest spell anyone in the vicinity had cast.

And, then, Lily remembered; Severus couldn't fight for the Order, here.

Nor could he fight for the Death Eaters.

Every spell he cast as he engaged them non-verbal. And non-lethal.

Keeping up appearances.

That was a far as her ruminations got; another opponent quickly making themselves known to her and she fought back, instinctively, as any reflective thoughts left her. In the moment, to survive, to fight, the only motivator behind her actions; curses leaving her lips without hesitation.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius' voice met her ears, cocky and mocking, and with a glance to the side Lily could see he was once again engaged by his cousin; Bellatrix, who had left him for dead less than a week before.

The glint in the woman's eyes telling Lily she wanted nothing more than to finish the job.

" _Avada kedavra!"_

Sirius barely dodged it.

He laughed.

Lily could have rolled her eyes.

Instead, all carried on fighting; focus entirely on her opponent once more.

Curses fired forth; light and cries filling the air.

People falling with every moment that passed.

The Order had no option but to retreat. To run. Some people cried it out; Dumbledore ordering them to pull back.

The members began to disapparate, casting final spells the Death Eaters' way, as they made their escape.

The opponent Lily fought fell; struck from behind, and then Severus was suddenly in front of her, taking her by the arm; "Let's go."

Severus kept a grip of her; disapparated swiftly, taking her with him.

It took a second for her to find her bearings. Where Severus had brought her to. The woods alongside his home.

"Severus." Lily shook her head, even as he let her go and made his way in the direction of the house, his expression grim; "Remus, Sirius, they might –"

"They'll have left by now."

"You don't know that –"

"If they had sense they'd follow Dumbledore's orders."

Lily followed, still shaken by what had just happened. The Death Eaters had attacked them at Headquarters. Had somehow learned the location, of the place where they had congregated for the past several months. Just as they had been learning and acting upon information of its members. It couldn't be coincidence.

It couldn't have been accidental.

Lily stopped.

"You knew."

Severus halted in his steps, a few feet in front of her.

"You knew that was going to happen."

There was a pause.

A tense silence.

And then Lily heard a quiet ' _muffliato'_ cast, before Severus turned to face her. He met her eyes for only a second, before he averted them, as if he couldn't even look at her.

"Didn't you?"

"You know you can't ask me that."

"Don't give me it. Just tell me the truth."

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Severus met her eyes then, looking exasperated.

He was silent. As if he was weighing up the question. He shook his head, jaw clenching; "What makes you think I didn't?"

Lily frowned.

Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"But – Dumbledore…He wouldn't…How could he –"

"Lily."

Lily met his eyes.

"You know we can't do this."

"We can't? We've hardly been playing by the rules so far. I don't see why you telling me about this –"

"Yes you do," Severus interrupted her, eyes glancing around the area, cautiously, even if he had cast the spell, even if he had ensured no one knew of this place; "I made it very clear from the start what I am. You said you accepted it. That you understood."

Lily swallowed, averting her eyes, digesting his words.

Yes, she had.

Severus was the spy. The double agent.

"I told you, there's things I can't tell you. It's not safe for you to know."

"That Dumbledore is willing to let Order members die to pursue his own agenda?" Lily glowered.

Severus lifted his eyes, skywards; "He is the commander of the Order, he leads the resistance to the Dark Lord. There are sacrifices he has no choice but to make."

"Lives."

"Yes. If it means that he may prevent the loss of further such in the larger scale."

"Well that's not acceptable."

"Then just be glad it's not you who bears the burden of it." Severus turned away then, making his way towards the house.

Lily followed. Neither speaking until the door clicked shut behind him.

"You can't be okay with this?" Lily turned on him once more; "Who knows how many people just died tonight, Severus!"

"Lily –"

"How did Voldemort find out where we were? Did you tell him? Did Dumbledore tell you to?"

"I can't answer that."

"Which means yes!"

"You know what I am. It is necessary for the Dark Lord to believe I am useful to him; otherwise he will not reveal information to me, information that Dumbledore needs to –"

"So the ends justify the means?"

"Just stop –"

"No! I _won't_ stop. I have to know! You told me to trust that man to protect my son –"

"I assure you, your son's survival is of upmost importance to him –"

"As if _that_ makes me feel any better!"

Lily felt _sick_.

How could she possibly carry on fighting for Dumbledore, knowing what she now knew; that anyone was expendable. That he would risk their lives, any of their lives, if it only meant getting ahead in this war.

It was abhorrent.

It was so wrong.

And, yet, Severus stood here before her, telling her this as if it were the most rational thing in the world. The game that Dumbledore was playing. Trading one piece of information, through Severus, in order to receive a piece of his own in return.

Each making their move, their play, and they were all the pawns.

Severus wasn't looking at her now. He was looking away, almost hanging his head, as if he was aware of everything she was thinking.

Never before had their circumstances been more apparent.

Lily had always known not to ask. Severus had told her not to.

Now she knew why.

Severus had known all this for years. Had served Dumbledore as a spy since the first war.

"Severus."

He sighed.

"We are at war, Lily." He finally spoke candidly, though he still did not meet her eyes; "And it's a war we're at very real risk of losing. Dumbledore is our only chance. You may find his methods questionable, but surely you don't question that. He is the most gifted Wizard we have on our side, the only person the Dark Lord is truly afraid of, because he, too, knows that Dumbledore would do anything to bring him down. To end this."

Lily couldn't help shaking her head; couldn't help the fact that she couldn't stomach it. The hard truth.

"These are decisions that have to be made, the consequences of which most could not find it within themselves to carry; Dumbledore does so, so that we don't have to."

"Severus –"

"If a lesser man were leading us, I have no doubt that we would fail."

Severus turned away from her then, going to pass her by, but Lily wouldn't let him. Took him by the arm and forced him to stop, to look at her. And she saw it, then, the burden that he spoke of; the shame, the regret.

Dumbledore called the shots.

Severus carried them out.

Even if he hated it.

All this time, the two of them had only ever discussed what Severus being a spy meant for them, for her. Never had they truly broached the subject of what it meant for him. The weight he carried, silently, never turning to her, never revealing anything of what Dumbledore or Voldemort asked him to do.

Severus had sold his soul to the man a long time ago.

To save her.

Lily closed her eyes, her voice coming out as a whisper; "I'm sorry."

When they opened, Severus was looking at her. He eyed her, looking bewildered, uncertain; "Sorry?"

"I guess I just…I never really thought about it. Not properly. The things you have to do."

Severus shifted, looking uneasy for a moment, before he seemed to wipe his expression of emotion completely; "If it's not something you feel you can –"

"No. That's not what I'm saying," Lily interrupted him, knowing instantly where he was going; "I'm just saying I'm sorry. I should have thought about it before. What it meant for _you,_ all of this; not just us."

"I don't want you thinking about it. I told you. I don't want you asking questions."

Lily sighed, exasperation rising within her at Severus' relentless refusal to show any weakness at all. His ever-infuriating persistence to protect her from everything. Especially now, when she could see that it was _him_ who needed her, needed _someone_ to be there, to lean on.

Lily knew he was struggling with it. With the things Dumbledore was asking him to do.

She could see it in his eyes.

Lily stepped towards him then, taking him in her arms and pressing her face into his neck; pulling him close. He tensed for a second and then his arms wound around her, an exhale escaping him as the tension left his body.

She drew back to look at him, keeping her arms around him as she did, and he met her eyes, guardedly, as if he couldn't quite believe she was letting him hold her. Pillock.

She leaned up, kissing him softly. A kiss he returned, gently, until she drew back to press her forehead against his.

"Lily. I understand if you want to –"

"Nope."

"I –"

"Don't even." She shook her head, decidedly; "As I've told _you_ before, I'm not going anywhere."

Severus still looked uneasy, uncertain, but it fell away when she lifted her chin, defiantly, raising an eyebrow before giving him a small smile.

And then he sighed, pulling her close once more, finding the comfort in her arms that he was too proud to ask for.

Lily held him tight.

Determined now, more than ever, that she would always be there to provide it.


	36. May 1988: Black Heart

Malachi darted through the cottage.

Peered excitedly through each doorway into the adjourning rooms – for they had become accustomed to having only a _single_ room the past few months – and Regulus had almost forgotten just how bright his son's smile could be, for it had been so long since he'd seen it.

"Are we staying _here_?" His son turned wide eyes to him.

"You approve of the place, then?" Regulus grinned.

"Yup!"

Sirius chuckled.

Regulus glanced his way, meeting his eyes, and his smile turned warmer as he gave him a nod; his own approval at his brother's choice.

Anything would have done, really. Both he and Malachi were now so used to moving from place to place, the most luxurious of accommodations they had found themselves in being the shack that the Death Eaters had chased them from the week before.

In comparison, this two story cottage was a _palace_.

And his brother had gone all out to make it as comfortable as possible for them. Had furnished it, ready for their arrival, and had even gone as far as to pack up and distribute some of the items that Regulus had left behind at Newton's; things he thought long gone.

A moving picture of himself, Evelyn and Malachi quickly caught his eye, hanging on the wall just above the fireplace.

"Look, Dad! Uncle Sirius made this one into a games room!" Malachi's voice called out from one of the rooms beyond.

Sirius chuckled again, giving Regulus a shrug; "Figured he could do with some distractions. Won't be long 'till he's bored of this place too."

"It's great, Sirius." Regulus nodded at him, eyes scanning the room again; "Thanks."

"Hey, don't mention it, little brother. It was my pleasure!"

"You didn't have to unpack all our stuff."

"Plenty time on my hands, these days."

Regulus glanced at him then, at the tinge of regret in his voice; reminded that Sirius was alone now. Lily Potter and her son having left him. Or, rather, Sirius opting to leave them. Because he'd been a jackass.

Regulus opted not to voice his opinion out loud. Again.

"Should we do this, then?" Regulus said, instead, changing the subject.

Despite the light air of the room, contributed to substantially by Malachi's excited running and proclamations, both he and Sirius were aware of the real urgency here. His brother had come to him in a panic, some days before, asserted that the Fidelius had to be cast immediately; Bella knew that Sirius was hiding him.

Or, rather, it seemed the Dark Lord was under the impression that the Order was hiding him.

Either way, time was running out.

They needed to do this now.

"Yeah." Sirius conceded, with a nod; "You know what you're doing?"

"I thought you were going to cast it?"

"I can't. I'm the Secret Keeper. You have to bind it to me."

Regulus drew in a breath; "Right."

He hadn't known the particulars of the spell, before, when he had approached Sirius. But he knew his brother did, that he had utilised the charm before; had made Peter Pettigrew the Potter's Secret Keeper in 1981.

Regulus had only ever been average at charms.

What if he messed this up?

"Hey." Sirius gave him a nudge; "It's fine. We've been over it."

Regulus nodded; "Yeah. Right. Okay."

He pulled out his wand.

"Let's do this."

* * *

Severus understood.

Lily had held back any further comments on what had happened the week before. Seemed determined to supress her feelings in light of what she had learned, what she now knew about what Severus had to do.

Though it seemed that what really bothered her, here, was what Dumbledore was _willing_ to do.

Her silence by no means indicated acceptance.

Severus knew, well enough, that Lily would never, truly, accept the reality of what had to be done to win this war. She was too emotionally driven, too unable to reconcile the difference between what should be done versus what _had_ to be done; the unquestionable truth that Dumbledore had to consider the good of the many in this.

And the many went beyond the lives of his own fighters.

The entire fate of Wizarding Britain rested upon his shoulders.

Severus didn't envy him a jot.

Of course some would be aghast. Would fail to understand. Trust irrevocably shaken in the old man if people were to learn the details. Though, frankly, if people just _thought_ about the whole thing a bit more carefully, it was incredibly obvious what was going on.

But Lily hadn't wanted to.

And Severus hadn't wanted her to, either. He had kept her in the dark as much as possible; never revealing any details of what had happened at meetings with either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. No mention of the information Dumbledore saw fit to give up. Of the interrogations made of him by the Dark Lord. Of the lives he could do nothing but stand by and watch be taken, as the Circle of Death Eaters gathered around their master.

The attack on Order Headquarters had been the first time he had let her see. Allowed himself to let her in. If only because there was no way he was going to sit at the other side of the table, that night, when he knew an attack was imminent.

Severus didn't regret it, as such. He would always put her safety above all else. Even his cover, if need be. That's just the way it was.

But the consequences of it were...uncomfortable, at best.

Lily may not have made any further verbal protests. But her feelings were perfectly clear by the expression on her face as she sat – flanked once more by Black and Lupin, opposite him – glaring daggers at the Headmaster as he addressed the Order once more, the first official meeting to take place since the attack.

Judging by the look on her face, one would think her life aspiration was to go down in history as the first to successfully cast a wandless, non-verbal killing curse.

If only sheer will could make it so.

Severus shot her a warning look of his own.

If Dumbledore noticed he'd never hear the end of it!

Lily averted her eyes, attempting to check her emotions, settling for a glower at the table top in front of them, as the Order members carried on discussing issues of security. A fixed location where they could gather, safely, once more, now that their previous Headquarters were compromised.

"I know a place." Sirius Black spoke up.

Severus barely took notice, mind still on Lily and the issue at hand; one that could not be ignored, for he could see it continuing to fester in her mind.

He confronted her later that night.

"Surely you understand the need for self-control."

"I thought I controlled myself pretty well."

"Lily, you're lucky the entire table didn't notice. You barely spoke all night."

"Sorry." She sounded anything but; "You'll have to excuse me if I find it difficult, keeping something like that from everyone."

"Keeping secrets is, all of a sudden, too difficult?"

" _That's_ a bit below the belt, don't you think?" Her eyes flashed.

Severus pursed his lips together. Were they actually in a fight, right now?

He drew in a calming breath; "Clearly this is something we need to discuss rationally. Before our own emotions lead to this escalating further."

Lily shook her head, suddenly; "No. It's fine. You don't have to –"

"Lily."

A silence fell over them. Both seeming to wait for the other to speak.

Lily sighed, shaking her head, the flash of disappointment evident in her eyes; "People _trust_ him."

"Yes. They do. And not just Order members. He has, quite literally, the faith of everyone of the light on his shoulders right now."

"That doesn't make it right that he values the lives of Order members less."

"You know that's not how it is. And those of us who joined him knew well enough what we were signing up for."

"And what's that?"

"To be Dumbledore's men. To fight for his cause. Fight and die for him, if the circumstances call for it."

"Except we did not expect Dumbledore to _create_ the circumstances under which we would have to! I mean, what if it had been Sirius or Remus who had fallen last week?"

Severus pursed his lips together. Knew better than to answer _that_.

"Lily, those in the Order, they – _we_ – are soldiers. We're not civilians. Not innocents. We pledged ourselves to this fight. And if someone fighting for that cause _were_ to die for it, what does it matter if it happens on the glory of the battlefield or peacefully in bed, so long as said cause is furthered as a result?"

"Is that what you'd be saying if it was me who had died that night?"

Severus glowered.

He clenched his jaw, almost grinding out the word; "No."

"Well."

"Obviously there are underlying _personal_ conflicts in these times. For everyone. Which is why we need a strong leader – Dumbledore – who has taken it upon himself to stand back and make the decisions for us, decisions we, _mere mortals_ , would never be able to make."

"And what if one of his decisions meant that I _was_ to be one of his so-called sacrifices?"

"He wouldn't."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do."

"How?"

"Because every man has his limits and Dumbledore is well aware of mine."

"Then my life takes precedent above everyone else's?"

"That's right."

"That's hardly fair."

"Well, that's how it is." To say he was becoming irritated would be an understatement; "Call it a perk of the job, if you will."

It came out as a snap. A silence filling the room following.

Lily raised an eyebrow.

Severus wondered if he had somehow proven a point of hers. His comment almost betraying the strain he felt as he attempted to juggle it all; the role of spy with the far more pleasant one of being with Lily.

Apparently, though, Lily was feeling some strain of her own. The week following the incident at Headquarters allowing the issue to simply stew in her mind.

Severus sighed; "As you already know, Dumbledore and I made a deal."

"Yes, I do know. And I think it goes without saying that I hardly appreciate the methods by which Dumbledore recruits his spies."

Severus pursed his lips together, knowing where this was going next.

"I made my choice."

"Choice? Is that what you call it?"

"Don't go there, Lily. This is treading just a little _too_ close to pity. I don't care for it."

"It's not pity. It's _rage!"_

Severus rolled his eyes.

"He used you. He's _still_ using you!"

"Dumbledore and I were not allies when I approached him. In fact, I was the enemy. And it is only logical that he should seek to take whatever he could from me under the circumstances, considering I asked and was granted something more than a little important to me at the time in return."

"Asked him? He would have hidden us anyway. And if, by any chance, he _wouldn't have_ then that is even more reason why you should tell him to shove his deal up his arse!"

Severus smirked.

"I told you before; you don't owe him anything."

"That's not true. He gave me far more than what he promised me that night. Yes, he protected you, but it went beyond that. The years which followed the fall of the Dark Lord were more than a little satisfactory for me. I made a life, a life I would not have had the opportunity to experience, had it not been for him. Indeed, I had everything that I could have ever wanted in those years. Except one."

"What?"

"Hm." He raised an eyebrow.

Lily smiled then.

And then she sighed; "I just…I just _hate_ this. I hate that he has this thing over you."

"Stop, Lily. Hate it all you like; it won't change the way things are. And, whatever your feelings may be for me now, do not fool yourself into believing that _I_ am one of those innocent lives that needs to be protected. Not even close."

Lily stepped towards him then, looking him right in the eye and taking his hands in hers; "I love you."

Severus never tired of hearing it. The words still a thing of fantasy. His fingers tightened around hers.

"You're too good for him. Don't let him do this. Don't let him take any more than what's he's already taken."

"Are you asking me to quit, Lily?"

Lily hesitated.

She knew better.

Both knew it wasn't an option.

"No. I'm just telling you that I'm _with_ you. No matter what you have to do."

Severus sighed.

Pulled his hands free and reached up, taking her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers. Kissed her soundly, his fingers trailing the side of her neck before curling into her hair, drawing her closer.

 _Love_ didn't even come close to describing his own feelings, in that moment.

Words rendered practically inept.

But he said it anyway, murmuring it into her hair when he drew her closer, lips going to her neck, before he drew back.

Lily pressed her forehead to his, eyes closed.

"Won't be forever." She said it, quietly, almost as if to herself.

"Mhm." He agreed. Longing once more for the day when he _could_ walk away; when it would be just the two of them.

Well, _three_.

Speaking of which.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." Lily drew back, reluctance in her eyes; "Harry."

Severus nodded.

She pressed her lips back to his, once, twice, before drawing back, completely. She brushed the hair back from her face; "I'll see you on Monday?"

"Right."

Mondays never came soon enough.

Lily gave him a smile, lifting her cloak and making her way from the house.

Severus knew better than to assume the matter had been settled.

Dumbledore was always going to be an issue.

Lily was just too different to the both of them, too _good_ that she would never be able to reconcile the truth with how she believed things ought to be.

And Severus wouldn't change her for the world.

But, deep down, he feared that the reality of this world just might do so anyway.

* * *

As both expected and feared, Regulus was back in the fight within days of the Fidelius being cast.

He had asked Sirius to arrange it, the meeting with Dumbledore. And his circumstances just so happened to coincide perfectly with the dilemma currently facing the Order of the Phoenix; they found themselves without Headquarters, while Regulus found himself unable to easily move from one place to another.

As such, it was decided; Regulus would offered up the new, charmed cottage to Dumbledore as Headquarters until they finally ended this thing.

Dumbledore was most pleased by the turn of events, arriving an hour earlier than the Order was scheduled to, in order to discuss the matter at hand.

The 'matter at hand' being what Regulus' role ought to be, now that he had revealed himself once more, though little discussion was needed as both were well of aware that it could only be one thing; Horcrux Hunter.

The same task as it had always been, for years now. Even if his progress had been almost painfully slow. Only three horcruxes gathered and still, seemingly, no end in sight. Neither he nor Dumbledore aware of just how many the Dark Lord had dared to make.

The man was so _insane_ he could have made dozens.

But Dumbledore seemed to have an idea of how to find out the precise number. For which, Regulus would need a little help. In the form of a Mrs Lily Potter.

"Can you teach me Wizarding Chess, Dad?"

Regulus ruffled Malachi's hair, eyes going to the timepiece on the wall; "I've got some people coming over. Maybe later, okay?"

Malachi nodded, looking curious; "Who's coming?"

"Work people. Severus will be here."

Malachi brightened; "Can I see him?"

"Sure. But later, alright? I'll tell him to come through and find you."

"I saw Professor Dumbledore here, too," Malachi remarked, looking curiously down the hallway; "Is he still here?"

"Yes. Now. Will you be alright in here? Or did you want to go upstairs?"

"Here's fine," Malachi said, with an eager glance around the game room.

Before Regulus could say anything more the door to the cottage swung open, making Malachi flinch; too used to running, to hiding now. Always seeming on edge that, sooner or later, they were going to be caught.

Regulus gave him a reassuring smile and brushed their hair back from his forehead, before he stood and made his way to the doorway, peering out at the first arrival.

Severus.

No doubt.

The man was as punctual as ever.

Severus didn't notice him. Shrugged himself out of his cloak and slung it over his arm, looking around the hallway with disinterest, and Regulus was struck by how _exhausted_ his friend looked. Regulus leaned against the doorframe behind him.

Severus' eyes travelled, as if expecting someone to come and greet him; to tell him where to go next. Mere moments before his eyes settled, taking in a moving picture up on the landing above; one of Regulus and Malachi from some years before.

Severus frowned, peering up at it.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not Newton's or anything but, hey –"

Severus' head snapped sharply in his direction.

"- I guess it'll just have to do."

Severus stared.

Regulus grinned.

He held out his arms at either side of himself; "What do you think? Do I look different to you? I think I might've finally shed that puppy fat you so love to point out to me."

Severus lips twitched for a second and then he smiled.

Regulus stepped towards him with a laugh, grasping him by the arm and pulling him forward for an embrace; Severus attempted to pull back, say something – _"what are you –"_ but then his friend's laughter joined his and Severus slapped him on the back, letting Regulus pull him in and hug him tight.

" _How –"_ Severus eventually pulled himself back, though their hands still clung to one another's arms, looking at Regulus in wide eyed disbelief.

"I take it my brother never revealed this little detail?"

As if on cue, the door burst open once more and said brother strode into the cottage, unabashedly, Remus Lupin and Lily Potter close on his heels.

Severus pulled back, completely then, composing himself.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt the heart-warming reunion," Sirius joked, as he passed them by, heading down towards the dining room.

Remus Lupin followed. As did Mrs Potter. Though Regulus didn't miss the way her eyes met Severus' on the way past.

He and Severus followed; he lowered his voice, even if it was light with teasing; "I hear _someone's_ been getting busy."

Severus looked at him with a frown.

Ha.

Regulus wiggled his eyebrows and gave a nod at Lily Potter's back.

Severus scowled instantly.

Regulus laughed again.

Lily glanced over her shoulder at them, then, first at Regulus and then at Severus, who rolled his eyes, looking away from her. She gave Regulus a smile.

He nodded, returning it.

And then the door down the hallway opened once more and further Order member piled into the house; all ready for the briefing ahead.

* * *

Lily met Regulus Black's eyes across the table.

This was rather awkward.

The last time they had seen one another, Regulus had just openly defected in a bid to save her life. She almost getting him killed in the aftermath.

He seemed unruffled by the fact. Shot her a bright smile; "It's a shame we weren't meeting again under better circumstances."

"I think anything would be better than the ones by which we parted."

Regulus laughed.

"True enough, Mrs Potter."

Lily smiled. The mans was just too infectious not to.

"I'm really sorry."

Regulus waved a hand; "Don't be. I handled the whole thing like a right dunderhead. I'm just glad Severus wasn't there. I'd have never heard the end of it, if he'd actually _seen_ it!"

She giggled, struck by how she spoke of him, with such obvious affection.

Regulus shifted then, his jovial demeanour seeming to dampen somewhat; "Did Dumbledore tell you why he wanted you to stay behind?"

"Yes."

"You know about them? The horcruxes?"

"Not much. Just what he told me tonight."

"You're okay with it? With helping out? You don't have to actually come and find anything with me. He just thinks there's someone who'd be more willing to give up information to you than to me."

"Professor Slughorn."

"Yeah."

Lily nodded; "Okay."

Although she didn't see what help she could really be for, surely, if her old potions professor _was_ aware of what Voldemort had done he would be just as unlikely to give up any information to her, as he would be to Dumbledore or even Severus.

"So, did Dumbledore just want me to march up to his door and ask him?"

Regulus chuckled; "No. No doubt he'll orchestrate some scenario where the two of you will just so happen to meet; a function or something."

Lily tensed at his words, unable to help herself; Dumbledore orchestrating events.

Regulus shrugged; "Until then, that's it. He'll probably be in touch; let you know when the opportunity comes up."

"I see."

"For now, we've gathered three. Dumbledore is attempting to destroy them as we speak."

"What is it Dumbledore has you doing?"

Regulus shrugged; "Looking for them."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Seems like a big task for just one man."

"I suppose. But then, it was me that came to Dumbledore with it. It's always been my assignment, really. Besides, it's…well. I don't think he would want to risk too many people with it."

Lily raised her chin.

"It's a bit dicey."

"More so when you haven't got anyone to back you up."

"Are you volunteering, Mrs Potter?"

"Maybe."

Regulus laughed, shaking his head; "Yeah, right. Sev would –" He broke off. But his eyes still had a lingering twinkle when he looked at her; "You're a real – what is it my brother called you – a spitfire? Yeah." He nodded, standing up.

Lily stood also, assuming that was a dismissal, though very little further information had really been shared between them. Nothing more than what Dumbledore had already explained to her, when she had reluctantly stayed behind at his request, before insisting she go to Regulus for further details – _"for this was entirely Regulus' project"._

Leaving her to wonder what Dumbledore's real wishes were that she would come out of the meeting thinking.

They headed from the room.

"Will you come back soon?" Malachi's voice sounded from the stairs.

"I doubt I will be away from this place long." Severus was standing at the bottom, arms crossed as he looked up at his Godson.

"Aren't you going to come and live here with us, again?"

"I'm afraid not. This house is simply to keep you out of harm's way, for the time being."

"But –"

"Off with you." Severus waved a hand; "It's beyond bedtime, by now."

Malachi gave him a smile, turning and doing as he was told, heading the rest of the way up the stairs.

"See he still doesn't risk defying you, Sev," Regulus said, when he and Lily reached him; "He rarely does as I tell him to do anymore. I think he's decided to try out the terrible twos on me, that I missed."

"Perhaps being cooped up with you for four months has driven him to it. I can just imagine." Severus lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

Regulus rolled his eyes, shooting him a smirk, and then he glanced, expectantly, between them both; a definite twinkle in his eyes when he spoke to Severus; "I take it you two will be heading off now then."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him.

Regulus grinned, unabashedly, indicating the door; "Have a good evening."

Severus rolled his eyes, shooting him a look.

But, unable to argue any different, the two of them left, a smile playing on Lily's lips as they did.

* * *

The cottage almost felt like home.

Perhaps that's why Sirius was drawn there, spending most of his spare moments in his brother's hiding place. Hiding place-turned-Headquarters.

When he was there, the sting over the loss of daily interactions with Harry – things he had always taken for granted in the past – lessened somewhat. For a little while, he could almost pretend that he actually belonged with them; his brother and his nephew. For the underlying bitterness seemed to have ebbed in recent weeks, his brother turning to him now and again with a smile and a joke.

Almost as if Regulus were finally taking him back.

"I know what's going on."

"Who told you?"

"No one. I don't need anyone to tell me. I could see it in everyone's face tonight at the meeting."

"See what?"

"That they all think I'm a dead man walking."

"Then they're a bunch of idiots, that's what they are."

"Wasn't that long ago you'd attribute the trait to me."

"What? I never thought you were an idiot."

Liar.

Both knew it.

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

It hadn't gone much further than that. The extent of Sirius' feelings of betrayal seeming almost capped when he had learned, years ago, that his little brother had given in to them; had done as the most Ancient and Noble House would expect of its, legitimate, heir and joined Voldemort's cause and reign of pureblood supremacy and, eventually, the extermination of muggleborns and muggles.

Even then, Sirius knew it was a lie.

His brother could follow and bow and crawl all he liked; Sirius knew he could never be one of them.

Regulus shook his head, looking away; "I don't want people getting hurt because of me."

That was the brunt of it.

Regulus just couldn't stand to see people in pain. He had always been that way. Couldn't stand to see hurt, betrayal, disappointment in anyone else's eyes. _Especially_ not because of him.

A sensitivity that led him down the path to make his parents proud, to do as they said, as they believed, until he eventually found himself in a situation where that side of himself couldn't be reconciled in that place, either. People would still look up at him with that very same look in their eyes. And Sirius knew that when that happened, it wouldn't have mattered if the person looking up at him was blood or just mud, as his family would claim.

It was pain, all the same. And it was something his little brother could never stomach inflicting. Not upon anyone.

Sirius got it.

He had understood for a long time, now.

When they had been children, his little brother's sensitivity had been a source of much teasing. Sirius often poking fun at the seeming weakness.

His compassion.

It was a truth for which Sirius would always feel ashamed.

"From what Snape's been saying, the only people getting hurt are Death Eaters. Seems your old master is blowing a bit of a fuse about it all."

"Well, I was part responsible for killing a bit of him. It probably didn't go down well."

"Looks like only his people are bearing the brunt of that right now. There hasn't been a Death Eater attack in almost a week; two pureblood to muggleborn weddings overlooked. That never happens."

"I guess there's a silver lining to everything."

"Seems so."

"How's Severus?"

"What?"

"Well, he's in the Circle. Tonight was the second Order meeting he missed. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out the Dark Lord won't be happy with him. Dumbledore's the one who destroyed the horcruxes."

"I don't think Voldemort knows that. Snape's still breathing, if that's what you're asking."

"You know that for fact?"

"Yeah. Lily was with him last night."

"Ah."

Regulus smirked to himself, looking away.

For some reason, his brother found Snape and Lily to be a most pleasing and amusing development though, like Remus, he had not seemed the slightest bit surprised when Sirius had shown up at one of his hideouts in a fury the night that he had learned of it.

Apparently the only person who hadn't been expecting it was _him_.

As if Sirius had been missing something or, even worse, as if Snape and Lily were the most natural thing in the world and he had just willfully ignored the signs.

He pushed aside any and all thoughts of it; the two of them, together, still gave him the icks.

"You don't seem concerned."

"About Lily?"

"About this." Regulus indicated the interior of the cottage, with a lazy wave of the hand.

"Oh. Right. Well, that's because I'm not."

His brother was, though. Sirius could easily identify the little spark of fear in his eyes.

"Are _you_? You shouldn't be. I hear your Secret Keeper's a real top-notch chap."

Regulus shot him a grin, nodding and heading to peek out the window; a nervous habit he seemed to have developed over the past several months. Always looking, peering cautiously, out the windows.

"He'll never find you, Reg."

Regulus looked over his shoulder at him; the seriousness of his statement seeming to take him off-guard.

_I'd sooner die._

The words went unspoken. But the implication was there. For, to get to his little brother, anyone would have to go through him.

And no bloody Death Eaters were getting passed him this time.

He'd learned. He knew better.

Sirius wouldn't make the same mistakes with Reg that he had made with James. He'd bear it. He'd keep the secret. No one, _no one_ else could be trusted with it.

Sirius would protect what was left of his family with his dying breath.

"Thanks, Sirius."

He met his brother's eyes at the rare sincerity in his voice, for whenever Sirius had heard it, it was always laced with either bitterness left over from things passed or with a playful lightness that sought to keep him at bay, diminishing any vulnerabilities that words may express to him.

But not now.

Now, his little brother was looking at him with eyes that expressed more than just the gratitude he gave voice to. Totally open, vulnerability so apparent, and Sirius was struck by how much he looked like he did back when they children. When Regulus would turn to him, look up at him with those eyes, as if he trusted no one else but his big brother to protect and explain the harsh realities of the world; asking him the hard questions like; _"why is Andie going away?"_

He reached out, a hand on Regulus' shoulder that tightened in a grasp, Sirius attempting to pour all that he felt for him in that single gesture, for the two of them had never been the types to open up and reveal their innermost feelings and regrets – with the exception of the time Regulus had seemed to have lost control of his faculties – and now was not the time to start.

It would seem too much like goodbye and Sirius didn't want his brother thinking he wasn't taking this seriously. That Regulus being discovered was even a _possibility_.

It wasn't. It would never be.

Sirius would protect him.

There would be plenty of time for warm words and proper reconciliation when all this was over.

Maybe, then, they could be brothers once more.

* * *

Regulus didn't know what it was.

He didn't know _what_ made him wake, late in the night, and creep from the bedroom and down the stairs. Quiet, careful not to wake Malachi, who slept in a transfigured bed next to him in his room; there were three bedrooms in this place but his son would never sleep in a separate room now.

The little boy's fear, the lasting effects of being on the run for so long, almost crippling him; the idea of being apart from his father in the dead of night – the time when those who hunted them always seemed to strike – not at all acceptable to him.

It was always in the night.

Regulus walked to the window of the sitting area, curtains already pulled apart. There was no need to draw them, after all.

No one could see inside.

Regulus peeked out.

His heart skipped.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust. For his mind to fully register what it was he was seeing.

 _Who_.

There, barely a foot in front of him, on the other side of the glass, his oldest cousin; Bellatrix Lestrange.

Eyes dark and menacing, staring straight back at him.

* * *

It was fine.

It was _fine._

What did it matter that Death Eaters had happened to stumble upon the precise location of Regulus' hiding place, after all?

Dumbledore assured Severus that, despite the seeming breakthrough on the Dark Lord's side, there was absolutely no way that Regulus or his son could be touched; so long as they remained indoors and their Secret Keeper remained anonymous.

He told Severus to consent that the new Order Headquarters were being protected by the Fidelius Charm; thereby releasing Severus from any accountability for not revealing the details, while at the same time casting across the very real probability and doubt upon the Dark Lord's mind that Regulus would ever be accessible.

If Regulus were being held at a Fidelius protected Headquarters, the most natural conclusion would be that said location was under the protection of Albus Dumbledore; the old man Secret Keeper to the location.

The Dark Lord was not pleased.

After bearing the brunt of the Dark Wizard's fury for the better part of an hour, Severus was dismissed; weakened and still twitching in the aftermath. But he knew better than to come unprepared, the Dark Lord seeming far more ready to punish them all physically this time around than he had, before his fall. The need for clemency seeming to give way in face of the fact that fear now seemed to be just as great a motivator at keeping them devoted than conviction that he could offer them anything in return.

Severus quickly downed the various potions he knew to keep on his person, always ready for the worse.

The effects allowing him to carry on his mission with due haste, negating the need to return home for the remedies.

Lily would be there by now. She would be waiting for him.

She would be waiting a while.

Severus had another stop he had to make first.

Malfoy Manor.

"Severus," Narcissa greeted him warmly; "Come in."

They exchanged the necessary pleasantries before getting to the point; "Is Lucius home?"

"He's on assignment."

Severus gave a sober nod, quickly catching the look of unease in Narcissa's eyes; both of them knew there was only one matter of importance to the Dark Lord right now. The capture of her youngest cousin.

Narcissa made no mention of the fact.

She knew better.

A Malfoy by name, maybe, but at heart; she was a Black.

She knew the role she had to play.

"I see." Severus glanced at the door to the library.

"Can I help you with something?"

Severus shook his head; "Thank you. I had only hoped to investigate an assignment of my own. There are some books of Lucius' I thought might be of help."

"Please." Narcissa indicated at the door; "Help yourself."

Severus nodded, expressing his thanks, and made his way to the library.

Narcissa didn't follow.

He was glad of it. Exhausted, he was in no mood for company. Most definitely not at all in the mood for polite conversation, skirting around the subject which he could see in Narcissa's eyes she most wanted to enquire about; Regulus.

Severus guessed Lucius had opted to keep her in the dark.

He always did.

Narcissa and Draco were something Lucius seemed determined to keep apart from it all.

Severus set about his search, hoping it would turn up nothing; his own task being to do all he could to learn of the particulars of the Fidelius Charm. The components. The methods. Any weaknesses to exploit.

Severus would rather suffer the Cruciatus a millions time over, _die_ , than offer up any information that would lead to the Dark Lord getting his hands on Regulus.

Severus turned, almost tripping over a house elf that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Parchments were clutched in the creature's hands, hands that quickly flew up as its head bowed; "Sorry, Dobby is most sorry, Professor Snape."

Severus rolled his eyes, stepping around it.

"The Mistress has asked that Dobby bring the Professor anything that he wishes."

"I don't need anything."

"Yes, sir. Dobby understands. Dobby is just leaving these here, sir."

Severus turned then, with a frown. Watched as the little house elf walked towards the desk. With a jump, the parchments it was clutching were placed upon the surface.

It took a step backwards before it turned, looking at Severus directly. Holding his look for far longer than would be considered appropriate; impertinence, indeed. Almost as if it had been ordered to do so.

And then the house elf glanced back at the parchments, back at Severus, before it turned and left the room.

Odd.

Severus stared after it for a second.

The implication behind the house elf's actions seemed clear.

Severus put the book he was holding back onto the shelf, turning and heading to the desk; no doubt in his mind that Narcissa had ordered the house elf to place them there.

Had ordered it to make sure he was aware of them. To draw his attention.

Severus lifted it, unrolling it, eyes quickly skimming over the parchment; a deed notice.

The cottage in Scotland.

The cottage Regulus was confined to.

His eyes quickly moved over the document; the information Lucius had managed to procure concrete. His position in the Ministry as invaluable as ever.

Everything was here.

The address.

The date of purchase.

The name of the person who had acquired it.

Sirius Black.

Severus dropped it back onto the desk.

Strode from the room.

Narcissa was in the hallway to the parlour, eyes meeting his as he hurried on by.

Waiting for him.

There was relief in her eyes when she caught the panic in his.

But no, it was too late.

They didn't stand a chance.

Not a doubt in his mind what it was that Narcissa was telling him.

The Dark Lord was going after Black.

* * *

"I need glasses?"

Harry didn't sound pleased.

Sirius gave him a grin; "You'll look great! Come on, only the best people in the world wear glasses, little man."

"Like who? I don't know anyone."

"Your dad wore glasses."

Harry didn't look impressed by the reminder.

Sirius laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for a side hug, as they walked down the path to the house; "Chin up, Harry. You'll get to pick them yourself and everything. How about we go tomorrow? Surprise your mum."

"I thought we were going flying tomorrow?"

"We are."

Sirius undid the wards, pushed the door open.

"All day?"

"As long as you like. _After_ we've been to get those eyes of yours sorted out, mind. Can't have you flying about on a broom when you can't see properly."

"But I _can_ see. I told the tutor!"

"No reason not to get it checked out."

Harry's shoulders drooped, heels dragging as Sirius urged him inside.

"I need a hot chocolate," Harry declared, with a sage nod, as Sirius pushed the door shut behind them; "It might make me feel better about this."

Sirius snorted, ruffling his hair and giving him a shove; "It's after nine, chancer. Upstairs, get your jammies on. Hot milk, maybe."

"You run a hard bargain, Uncle Sirius," he said, seriously, making Sirius laugh outright.

"Where do you hear this stuff?" He waved a hand; "Go on."

Harry shot him a grin and then turned, hurrying up the stairs as he was told.

Sirius headed in the direction of the kitchen, casting an absent-minded ' _lumos'_ , as he did.

He supposed a hot chocolate wouldn't do any harm.

"How touching."

Sirius froze.

His head turned in the direction of the voice.

It wasn't a voice Sirius recognised; he was certain he had never heard it before. But he knew, without doubt, as if by instinct, exactly who the person who spoke was. Even before he stepped out from the shadows, revealing himself to him.

Voldemort.

Oh shit.

_Oh shit._

Voldemort didn't come after Order Members himself.

It just wasn't done.

Sirius' mind was running a mile a minute, hand quickly grasping for his wand, seeming to take leave of all senses in that moment.

Voldemort flicked his wand in his direction, lazily, not speaking a word but Sirius' wand was suddenly sent flying across the room; disarmed with a simple flick.

Any Gryffindor courage he may have had seemed to have left him in that moment, rendering Sirius completely immobile, silent, as the Dark Wizard advanced on him, circling him.

"So. _This is_ the infamous Black traitor, is it?"

Sirius stared.

"The very one who has kept Regulus so well concealed from me for the past several months."

Voldemort stopped in front of him, staring at him, full-on; "This needn't be unpleasant." His voice was silky, menacing, as he lifted his wand, trailed it against the side of Sirius' neck. He felt the sting of it, as if it were a blade, drawing blood.

"Do tell me, Mr Black, where is your little brother hiding? I am not an unreasonable man. Should you opt to oblige me, perhaps I will be lenient."

Sirius swallowed.

"The Fidelius Charm, is it? One would think that after failing so masterfully at utilising it the first time, a person would elect to try something a little different. But no matter. What's done is done."

Silence.

"Come now, Mr Black, do speak up. Only one Black need die tonight."

It took every ounce of resolve within him for Sirius to hold his head high, simply stare straight back at him; unyielding.

No way.

No way would he give up his brother.

Even if Sirius was quite certain he was on the verge of wetting himself right now.

A shuffle from behind, a thud, and then Sirius' blood ran cold with the next words spoken. Not by the monster than held a wand to his neck, no.

But by the boy who Sirius loved most in the world.

"Uncle Sirius?"

Voldemort didn't move.

Eyes remaining on Sirius completely, entirely unmoved by the fact that he was quite ready to murder a man in front of the child entrusted to his care.

"Outside."

"But –"

" _Go_."

Sirius was careful not to say his name. Not to say anything. Nothing that would give them away.

Voldemort seemed entirely oblivious to the identity of the child who stood behind him.

Harry didn't move. Rooted to the spot by worry for his uncle.

"Who are you?"

No.

No. No. No.

_Don't talk to him, Harry._

Voldemort's lip curled, then, at the question. He turned, slowly, eyes coming to rest on the boy who stood at the bottom of the stairs, who was eyeing them both with a mixture of concern and defiance.

Harry recoiled, a flicker of terror, when he caught the first glimpse of Voldemort's face; a thing of nightmares.

But then he straightened.

Foolish bravery.

"Outside _now_."

Sirius heard the panic in his own voice, stepping forward, trying to keep himself in front of Voldemort, between them; "It's me you want."

But Voldemort had seen an opportunity now, eyes entirely on Harry, and they were almost dancing with amusement as they looked the brazen boy over from head to toe.

Harry remained still - stupid, _stupid_ boy - staring right back at him, as if it were a challenge. A game.

"Foolish child. Oh so brave." Voldemort mocked, attention entirely on Harry now, even as the tip of his wand pressed firmly against Sirius' throat; "What's your name, little one?"

" _Don't_ –"

"Harry Potter."

The change in the air was palpable.

The amusement in Voldemort's expression suddenly gone; eyes glinted as his chin tilted downwards, studying Harry more closely.

And then a low rumble, a laugh sounded from deep within the Dark Wizard's diaphragm, and he practically savoured the name as he breathed it out; "Harry Potter. Well. Well, well. It seems the fates have seen it fit for us to finally meet."

Sirius' eyes glanced to the side; his wand.

Voldemort's head titled to the side; "I have often wondered. Yes. I have indeed." His eyes narrowed; "Come here, child."

"Harry! _Run_!"

He did.

Finally seeing sense.

Voldemort flung Sirius aside, abruptly, and Sirius quickly summoned his own wand; grasping it and turning just in time to see the door Harry pushing open slam back shut in his face, invisible locks sounding up and down the hinges and then the shutters suddenly slammed closed across all the windows. Trapping them inside.

Voldemort lunged for Harry.

"No!" Sirius blasted out a curse, distracting Voldemort enough for him to throw up a shield; precious seconds Sirius used to throw himself between them, taking Harry by the arms and drawing him behind him.

"Uncle Sirius."

The brazen defiance in Harry's voice was long gone now, replaced only with terror.

"Just stay behind me."

He felt Harry's hands curl into the back of the fabric of his robes.

Voldemort seized Sirius by the collar, pulling him upwards so they were eye-level and then launched an attack on Sirius' mind; so unexpected and with a power unlike anything he had ever felt before that he could do nothing at all to stop it.

Suddenly, his line of vision blurred and was filled with images of Harry.

Harry was everywhere. Laughing. Crying. Throwing tantrums. Flying on a broomstick. Jumping on his back.

The pressure in his mind suddenly intensified, making Sirius cry out, and then there was Regulus, Malachi.

And, then, Dumbledore.

Memories levelled out.

" _Motive…to kill a boy?"_

" _To kill a boy…Voldemort has made it a priority to eliminate the threat –"_

" _Harry?"_

" _\- It is imperative that he does not get his hands upon the prophecy – Voldemort's ignorance remains our advantage –"_

Sirius' vision cleared.

Voldemort's eyes glinted and his lip curled, a satisfied smirk that ventured on a snarl as he tossed Sirius away, to the floor in a heap; "Stand aside."

_What?_

"No!"

Sirius flung himself back between them, as Harry cowered back in terror, his back against the wall.

Sirius cast another curse, blocked easily, struggled and barely managed to shield himself from the spell that was cast his way in turn, before a second spell got him barely a second later; wand flying from him once more, disarmed.

"I have use of you yet, Black. Get out of my way."

Never.

He would _never_.

Sirius grasped, frantically, at Voldemort's arm as he attempted to force him; attempted to simply cast him off, allow him to _live,_ while his eyes menacingly lay directly upon the boy who Sirius loved with every ounce of his blood.

"No!" He screamed, throwing himself at the monster now, tearing back against his shoulders when he went to raise his wand while Harry cowered, tearfully, too terrified even to run.

Sirius summoned his wand, flung another curse, a sectumsempra.

Got him.

Voldemort turned then with a snarl, arm swinging around and sending Sirius back to the floor but he didn't stay there long. He quickly scrambled up, putting himself between them.

Between Voldemort and his Godson.

And the glint in the Dark Wizard's eyes changed then, resolve breaking, a decision being made.

Sirius could hear Harry sob behind him. Wanted nothing more than to go to him. To assure him it was going to be okay.

A lie.

It wouldn't be.

Sirius could see it in those final seconds.

He had always imagined he would go out on the battlefield. Serving. Laughing. _Fighting_.

Never like this. Not in quiet, petrified fear, knowing that all was lost.

That he had failed in the very purpose that had driven him all these years.

To keep James' family safe.

To protect Harry.

Voldemort lifted his wand, speaking the last words that Sirius Black would ever hear.

" _Avada Kedavra_."


	37. May 1988: Marked

Harry's breath caught.

His Uncle Sirius hit the floor.

Cool, grey eyes stared straight through him.

Gone was the love, the laughter that was always there whenever Harry looked at him.

The eyes were empty.

Just like his dad's.

His soul gone, just like his Uncle Sirius had once told him.

Dead.

Harry sobbed, his whole body shaking as he lifted his eyes; away from his uncle and back up at the monster who had done it, who peered down at him, lips drawn back in the scariest smile that he had ever seen.

He wanted his mum.

Heard himself whine as he lifted his arm, trying to cower lower, while the monster lifted his wand once more; eyes glinting as he spoke the very same words that had just brought his uncle to the ground.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

The same bright green light burst forth.

Different, though, this time. It grew brighter, fuller, almost filling the whole room and the intensity of it made Harry flinch and squeeze his eyes shut.

He heard a scream but it wasn't his own.

The floor trembled and the walls shook, creaking and then growing louder, a roar so deafening that Harry wrapped his arms around his head, over his ears, pressing his face into his knees so he didn't have to hear or see anything more.

Convinced that the world was surely ending as everything around him shuddered and fell.

* * *

Death Eaters were everywhere.

It made no sense.

Dumbledore had assured him mere hours before; the safest place was here. Even if the Dark Lord had learned his location, had pitched a guard, they still could not be certain. They still couldn't see the cottage that sheltered them.

The Fidelius Charm was absolute.

Death Eaters couldn't get to them, here.

Then, why were dozens of them stationed outside the building?

The Dark Lord would not assign so many, would not give such an order unless there was real reason to do so. Unless he expected that, soon, the enchantment would be broken. Soon, they would be able to get to them.

Something was happening.

Something was wrong.

"Regulus."

He jumped, startled, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grasping him tight.

"Severus! What are you – How did you get in?"

Severus didn't answer. He didn't have to. Both the situation outside and the Death Eater robes he wore answered the question for him.

"We have to go. Now."

Severus turned, urging Regulus along with him.

"Go? What's happening? Dumbledore said –"

"Circumstances have changed. Lucius has come across information that implicates your brother."

Regulus froze, stopping in his footsteps; "Sirius?"

"There's reason to believe he is under interrogation as we speak. The Dark Lord is quite confident that his resolve will break." Severus backed up his statement with a nod at the window, at their old master's evident confidence.

Regulus shook his head; "It won't. He wouldn't."

"Would you be willing to bet Malachi's life on that?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

Regulus swallowed.

"Let's go." Severus turned on his heel; "I checked. The fireplace is connected to the floo network. People may not be able to floo in here but we can get out."

"What about Sirius? Does the Dark Lord have him? For sure?"

"I don't know."

"But what if he –"

"The Order has been dispatched. They'll do whatever they can."

Regulus drew in a breath, pushing his panic aside – it wasn't the time for worry – going to head for the stairs, beginning to call up for Malachi.

He stopped in his movements when the first wave hit him. A cold, gripping sensation that centred and travelled up his left arm and, then, a searing burn that sent him to the ground with a yowl as he grasped at it, feebly; different and more intense than any call, any summons he had ever felt.

Scorching and searing and burning hot and cold against the skin, so powerful he thought his arm might tear itself apart.

And then it stopped.

Suddenly gone.

Regulus drew in a steadying breath, pushing himself up to his knees from where he'd fallen, catching sight of Severus; also on the ground.

His friend composed himself quickly, getting to his feet and meeting Regulus' eyes. There was uncertainty in both of them.

It was not typical.

Only once before had they ever felt it.

Only once before had the Mark burned that way; hot and cold.

Neither spoke. They didn't dare, even, to _hope_.

It was impossible.

Regulus reached down for his sleeve, tearing it up, while Severus turned and headed to the window; pulled back the fabric that draped across the glass.

The Dark Mark was red, not black.

And it was fading.

"Regulus."

He went, allowing his sleeve to fall back down, meeting Severus' eyes as he reached him, before he looked past him; out at the grounds.

The Death Eaters were disapparating.

Each and every one of them. All of them had felt it.

Severus stepped back, the curtain falling across the window once again as he did, exchanging a glance that showed the same bewilderment that Regulus felt.

Both of them wondering what the hell had just happened.

Because it just wasn't possible, that the Dark Lord could have fallen once more.

* * *

The street was eerily quiet.

Not a soul in sight.

Except for them.

The Order.

Lily hurried in the direction of the house, to Harry, but was stopped abruptly by someone grasping her tight by the arm, pulling her back.

"Lily!"

Remus.

She shot him a look, trying to yank herself free; "Let go of me, Remus."

"We don't know what's going on in there."

"The place is deserted! There's a chance they're not even here yet."

"Or Death Eaters might have already been here. Taken Black to a more secure location," Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke up.

That was hardly a reassuring thought. Lily tried to pull herself free once more; "We're wasting time."

Moody spoke up; "Lupin's right, Missy. For all we know this whole thing could be a trap and Black's just the bait."

"My son is in that house."

That was all she needed to know.

Kingsley spoke up, giving out orders; groups to the left, to the right, take the rear.

Lily headed up front, not waiting until the Auror finished speaking, Remus close on her heels; "Lily, wait."

They approached the gate, hurrying in quickly, and she strained to hear but not a sound emitted from the house. The windows all barricaded, the shutters pulled closed across them all, so neither could see in; not a glimpse of who or what was going on inside.

And then they felt it.

A shudder, low in the ground beneath their feet.

It happened quickly.

The shudder growing to a rumble, as the house suddenly trembled and shook before, with a gasp, she and Remus were throw backwards, far, far from the building, and to the ground as the house blasted outwards, tearing itself apart with a roar that reverberated throughout the street.

Arms came up to protect themselves, as debris flew out and upwards, raining down upon them until they found themselves beaten and surrounded by it; tearing at the fabric of their robes and ripping and bruising their skin.

Only half the house was still standing when the last of the debris hit the ground, Lily's arms lowering to take in the sight. The destruction.

Her blood ran cold.

"Harry!"

She scrambled to her feet, stumbling over the rubble, falling more than once, twice, as she attempted to make her way to the house.

She was close, very close, when a cloud of smoke shot down from the sky; hit the ground in front of her and a Death Eater suddenly materialised mere inches from her face.

Lily froze, mind still lost in a haze of blind panic, a desperation to get to her son, and then she was hit and sent flying backwards once more by a spell that hit her square in the chest.

Flying backwards until her body collided once more with the rubble; her head striking the debris and her world going black.

* * *

" _Lily!"_

Remus struggled to his feet, shaky steps towards where she had fallen, going to check on her, to make sure she was alright. She _had_ to be. She just had to.

If Sirius and Harry had been in that house…

The thought could barely be completed, the grief that followed would surely cripple him, and then he was suddenly faced with an opponent of his own. Death Eaters apparating in at all sides, as if it _had_ been a trap, after all. And Remus could only hope it were true, that it was all a ruse, and the house blowing apart was all about them, the Order, and nothing to do with Sirius.

That neither he nor Harry were inside when it happened.

Remus fired first; a spell that was barely blocked, for he hit them _hard,_ never meaning a curse more in his whole damn life.

The Death Eater fired back.

All of them did.

A ferocious battle quickly erupting in the night; every Order Member and every Death Eater, out in the open, tearing into one another. Light and screams and jeers filling the air as they all staggered across the rubble.

" _Crucio!"_

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Remus stayed close to Lily.

The battle was ferocious and the intent to kill never greater; the bright green lights of the Killing Curse firing forth several times from all directions, taking one another down. The Auror's too, not just the Death Eaters, all seeming aware that something had happened here, this night.

And this was the final showdown.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

It got him, only just, skimmed him right across the face and the side of his head, the blistering pain making him cry out and reach up; hand coming back down covered in blood, which he barely registered – there was no time to – firing out a returning curse within a second.

" _Globus ignis!"_

The curse got his opponent, engulfed him in flames, sending him to the ground with a bloodcurdling scream; lethal, deadly. The Death Eater would be dead within seconds. Remus flinched, took a step back, but he didn't end it.

He knew, with each passing second that Sirius did not come to his side; the truth sinking in hard. Sirius was dead. They had killed him.

Harry too.

That little boy. Innocent. Pure. And oh-so-loved.

Both had died tonight.

His stomach tightened, a sickening twist as grief gripped him, then. Unable to ignore it if he tried. It would have brought him to his knees if the adrenaline from the fight wasn't coursing through his veins and he gripped his wand tighter, eyes landing on another Death Eater, as pain and fury took over, more intense than he had ever felt in his life.

He stepped forward with a cry, equal parts rage and anguish, before he sent another curse flying forth; realisation of the deaths of Sirius Black and Harry Potter driving him on.

The battle was brutal.

Death Eaters and Order Members falling fast.

No goal in mind but to kill.

To end this.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

" _Einlatus!"_

Rage and grief drove him on, firing curse after curse, barely throwing up a defensive shield of his own; entirely on the offensive. A side of himself he never gave into. Not when he could help it.

But the driving emotions made him reckless, easy prey; one on one was fine. But another joined, then, taking advantage of his weakness; his one track mind. Two on one and struck him from behind, sending him to the ground; he fired, taking one of them, but he was still down.

" _Crucio!"_

The agony of it matched the grief; making him writhe and cry out, and it was almost a release to do so. To scream. He'd never felt more like screaming.

And then it stopped, the Cruciatus but not the pain.

Remus stayed on the ground, eyes on the Death Eater above him, chest heaving with each breath.

The opponent lifted his wand and pointed it straight at him but Remus felt no desire to fight anymore, to live.

They were all gone.

" _Avada keda –"_

The Death Eater was suddenly struck; hit the ground with a thud.

Lily was there then, stepping over the body; she reached down, taking him by the hand and pulling him to his feet with a rough jerk.

" _What the hell are you doing, Remus_?"

There was the fire, the flash in her eyes – so very Lily – and also betrayal and fury that he would do that; that he'd just lay down and die while she went on fighting.

She turned her back on him, raising her wand and carried on.

He followed.

He always followed.

Wand gripped tight as a new wave of determination came over him; throwing out curse after curse, joining her, and he and Lily fought back to back, like they would always do, back then. He and Sirius and Lily and James and Peter.

Except, now, it was only the two of them.

It was impossible to tell who was winning.

No one would win.

All would fall.

The fight wouldn't end until all were lying dead on the ground.

Pops started sounding all around them.

Aurors.

Those not part of the Order.

They came in from all sides, just as the Death Eaters had done before them.

Outnumbering them.

Joined the fight but they didn't fight to kill; the goal seeming to be to subdue.

Remus heard one of them, when the first Death Eater was apprehended; " _You are under arrest_."

 _What_?

Confusion rippled throughout.

Momentum lessening, somewhat, even as they carried on duelling. Eyes caught by the proceedings, the capture of Death Eaters, the declaration of arrests.

" _Voldemort has fallen."_

Remus looked over his shoulder, meeting Lily's eyes; both seeming entirely uncertain if what they were hearing was true. If it _could_ be true.

How could that be?

Voldemort wasn't here.

He was surely cooped up safe in the sewers or something.

Death Eaters began disapparating; those not dead or apprehended.

Disappearing but not before one yelled it out, wand pointed to the sky;

" _Morsmordre!"_

The clouds above morphed, the familiar spectre of the skull in the sky, snake slithering forth from its mouth, as the last of the free Death Eaters vanished.

XXX

Ripples of confusion carried on amongst those left behind.

Lily didn't entertain it.

She didn't care if it were true, not in that moment. She didn't care that Voldemort had fallen.

All she cared about was her little boy, somewhere within these walls, this rubble, as she stumbled across it to the door, tearing it open, easily. Any locks that had been placed upon it seeming to have ceased, to have _died_ with the caster, and she felt herself shake with the thought.

Sirius.

Lily hurried into the room, feet unsteady, even when the ground leveled out; Remus on her heels.

There he was.

Sirius Black, on the floor, on his back; body twisted sickeningly, unnaturally, and his lifeless eyes staring upwards.

Dead.

She felt Remus' hand on her shoulder, gripping her tight, and she wasn't sure if he was holding her back or if he was offering comfort or if he was seeking it for himself. Heard a strangled gasp escape herself but she couldn't give in to grief, not yet, her eyes scanning the room, frantically, and she staggered further in.

"Harry." Her voice came out as a rasp, a croak; "Harry!"

There was only silence.

Lily stumbled to Sirius' body, hand reaching down for a second, a touch to his face; still warm. She turned on the spot, desperately, her world crumbling; eyes settling on the rubble further away.

She made to step towards it, as Remus sunk to his knees, fingers going to Sirius' neck. Forehead touching to his.

And then she heard it.

A whimper.

Lily turned, sharp.

Hurried towards the sound. Pushed back the chair in the corner of the room, eyes settling on the small body that had wedged itself into the space between the furniture and the wall.

Harry.

So small.

Curled up tight.

He looked up at her; eyes red and watery and haunted.

"Harry."

It came out as a gasp.

Harry's lower lip trembled, as he stared up at her, looking so incredibly lost and afraid, his voice a murmur; "Mum, Uncle Sirius."

A sob escaped her then.

She dropped to her knees, gathering him in her arms and he gripped her tight; his body trembling against her.

"Mum." Trembles gave way to wracking sobs and she held him tight, unable to help her own, as she murmured against his hair, comforting words and apologies and expressions of love, as she pressed her lips to his hair, his cheek, holding him close.

Lily felt Remus kneel behind her. His hand reaching out, stroking the side of Harry's head, and her little boy drew back, meeting his eyes. Looking back and forth between them as he drew in shaky breaths.

Lily ran her hands over him, checking for injuries, reached up to touch his face and brush the hair back from his head.

She stopped.

Reached up again and ran her fingers through his fringe, pulling it back, her eyes resting on the only injury, the only mark she could find upon him.

A lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

* * *

"How is this possible? How could the boy survive when both Black and the Dark Lord have fallen?"

"Magic, Severus. It is always magic."

"Don't talk in riddles, Headmaster. Do you know what happened?"

"My knowledge is broken, not entirely certain, but I could venture a guess from the little I have managed to learn tonight. I only glimpsed very briefly into the boy's mind when the Order reconvened, for I did not want to cause further distress."

Silence.

" _Well_?"

Severus' patience was wearing thin.

"It seems that Sirius Black died when he placed himself between Voldemort and his Godson; refusing to stand aside and save his own life."

"You have always asserted that he would do so."

"Yes. But the circumstances, in this case, were entirely different to what I – or anyone – could have predicted. Sirius did not just refuse to stand aside, no; Voldemort offered him a choice. His value to him having been secured when he became Secret Keeper to his brother's location."

Severus said nothing. Waited for further elaboration.

"This was a very unique position, one which has never been seen before – not that history has yet recorded, that is – what would happen, if a man or a woman were to choose to die for another, to be willing to, even in such a hopeless circumstance. Even when they may choose to live.

Sirius Black could not have known what his actions would mean. And by doing what he did, the pure, unconditional love that Sirius had for his Godson meant that he was able to evoke a very rare, very powerful form of magic; his sacrifice granting Harry Potter a protection against that which sought to harm him."

Severus crossed his arms across his chest, as Dumbledore continued to speak.

"When Voldemort then turned the Killing Curse upon the child he believed to be a threat to him, the spell rebounded; killing the caster of the spell, instead. It is Old Magic, my boy, the kind that has not be seen in a very long time. A thing of myth, almost."

Severus turned away, digesting the words.

Both knew very well what this meant.

The boy may have been granted this protection; he may have lived. Truly, the first and only to ever survive the Killing Curse.

But Harry Potter was not safe.

The Dark Lord was not gone. He would return, the remaining horcruxes would see to that. And when he did, when he rose again, Harry Potter would supersede even Regulus Black as his most wanted.

Targeted.

Marked.

"You don't seem surprised."

"Severus, I am more than a little surprised by this turn of events. Especially considering how desperately everyone involved sought to prevent this very event from happening."

"And what event is that?"

"The marking of Harry Potter."

Severus pursed his lips together; "Something you did not see fit to caution me of."

"Ah." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled; "I was quite confident that you would quickly learn of it from someone whom I did see fit to caution."

Severus glowered.

"If you _knew_ that the Dark Lord would choose his own opponent, would target and make them his rival, then why did you not act sooner? Why did you not act _at all?_ Even when I insisted –"

"Because, Severus, as I asserted many times to both yourself and to Mrs Potter, the worst response that any of us could have made at the time was to act in any way which validated the contents of the prophecy. To do so would only have forced Voldemort's hand, action in itself making the prophecy come to be."

"How so? We did nothing!"

"Not true. By going to the Department of Mysteries that night, by seeking to destroy the prophecy rather than doing as suggested, merely keeping it from Voldemort's hands and choosing to disregard the possibility of it, the very actions set into motion the chain of events which have led us here. Regulus Black's discovery and the ensuing hunt leading Voldemort to Sirius Black, whom Regulus had turned to, consequently, putting him face to face with the child whom he would never have had reason to meet."

"Is that supposed to offer comfort, Dumbledore? That Lily's own actions have led to this?"

"I was not aware that words of comfort for Mrs Potter were what you sought to find from this meeting with me."

Severus glowered, feeling his temper flare.

Dumbledore went on; "Prophecies are a peculiar thing. It is often the case that attempting to prevent them, by _believing_ in their assertions, leads to the very events being set in motion in the first place. Had Lily refused to believe or act on it, had Voldemort simply dismissed it as nothing, then we would not find ourselves here. When it comes to prophecies, Severus, ignorance truly is bliss."

Severus' temper left him then, his fury snuffed out instantly; replaced only with shame. The meaning behind the man's words was clear.

It was not Lily's actions that had put the events in motion.

It was _his._

The very act of just speaking it, revealing the prophecy to either of them, had led to this.

"Culpability will get us nowhere," Dumbledore said, his tone suddenly reassuring, as if reading his mind; "The actions of everyone have led us to this; not the actions of one. The blame of a single person is entirely futile. Indeed, considering how all have fought against it, how everything has unfolded, each and every one of us only doing what was rational, what was instinctive to us...Well, Severus, what else could one conclude but that it was all simply meant to be?"

Severus shook his head.

He didn't believe in prophecies.

He _didn't._

Utter nonsense. And the absolute bane of his existence for almost a decade, now. Something he didn't even believe in, himself, tearing their lives apart.

But, then, what other explanation was there.

Because Harry Potter was not the chosen. He was not the boy that the Dark Lord had sought.

The Dark Lord had gone after Neville Longbottom first.

Harry Potter was overlooked.

But events aligned, choices and actions of all coming together, leading each and every one of them down this path; all pointing to the same damn thing.

It didn't matter what any of them did.

It was _always_ Harry Potter.

* * *

Word spread quickly.

There were celebrations. People linking arms and dancing in the street, raising their glasses as they hailed the 'Boy Who Lived' and shot fireworks from the end of their wands into the sky.

But the festivities did not touch upon those who knew the boy, or the man who had died for him.

Sirius Black, still young and vivacious and full of life, taken from them long before his time.

Grief struck hard.

The marked boy stayed awake, long into the night, held tight in his mother's arms, not allowing himself to succumb to the pull of dreams because when he drifted the sight of cool, empty grey eyes looked through his, morphing into gleaming red and the words, those terrible words – _'Avada Kedavra' –_ rang out over and over and over until he jerked back to consciousness with a cry and a sob, his mother's soft voice in his ear and her hand stroking his hair doing little to take away the anguish and the fear.

While, some miles away, another boy heard the story, learned the fate of his beloved uncle who had been there for him, for his father, in the difficult few months his father had spent first wounded by the light and, then, hunted by the dark. Only now, just a few days before, had they managed to find a semblance of normality once more and it was all because of him – Sirius Black – and what he had done for them.

Malachi saw the look in his father's eyes as he told him the news, saw the pain, the same pain he had seen when his mother had been taken.

Still, his dad didn't cry. Not this time.

But he knew that he had, before he'd come into his room.

Had heard the voices of his father and his Godfather on the other side of the door; his dad's voice crumbling in grief mere moments after the conversation began and Severus going quiet, almost as if he wasn't even there anymore, until he heard his dad speak once more, his voice muffled as if he were speaking into robes, before he had come in to see him.

At the same time, a werewolf crept into the living room of the house Sirius Black had once shared with the marked boy, his mother, and sunk down into the chair next to them, where they were huddled on the couch.

Harry, tight in his mother's arms, fighting sleep as much as he could; drifting in and out.

Remus reached over to touch when the boy's tired eyes rose and met his, stroked a comforting hand against his hair with the most reassuring smile he could manage, before he asked Lily if they needed anything. If he could do anything.

She told him no.

Remus asked again. Insisted.

He needed to do something because he couldn't just sit there and _think_ anymore and he couldn't be in this house, in this chair, and know that the three of them were there but someone was missing, someone who should be laughing and gabbing and swaggering down those stairs, telling them all to buck up and put a smile on it, why don't you.

Lily's hand found his, squeezing it tight, a corresponding squeeze in his chest making him pull back and stand up, heading away because the two of them needed someone to be strong for them and that wasn't him. It wasn't him as he stumbled back out into the night, grief overwhelming him in a crush of pain and sobs, and he couldn't let Harry see that.

That boy had seen enough for a lifetime. And there was only more to come.

More pain and loss and sacrifice, so much so that the truth of it made his mother want to scream.

* * *

Severus wasn't sure which of the two options was most discourteous.

Attending the funeral of a man he despised.

Or _not_ attending the funeral of a man so beloved to the only two people whom he cared deeply for himself.

It was tempting to be petty.

And the last thing he wanted to do was make a spectacle of himself; he had made no secret of his distain for Black in the past and there would most certainly be Order members in attendance.

In the end, he'd allowed his Godson the burden of choosing for him, Malachi taking his hand shyly that morning and asking if he'd be going to the event with them; innocently remarking that he hadn't liked his mother's.

Severus didn't really approve of the practice of bringing children to such dreary events at all but that was none of his business. Instead, he had given the boy a stiff nod, his non-verbal consent that he'd be there with them and he'd quickly caught the look of gratitude in Regulus' eyes; even through his friend's obvious surprise.

And, so, he found himself here.

If he was concerned that his presence would be questioned or, even, noticed his worries were proven unfounded within minutes. Though it did not reach quite the same overwhelming response that his elder cousin, Andromeda Tonk's, funeral had received, Black's following was enough that the ceremony room was filled and tears flowed in abundance.

Later, he would learn that many had not known Black at all, that they were simply coming to pay their respects to the man who had played a hand in ending the Dark Lord's second attempt at reign.

Nonetheless, the large numbers meant that Severus was able to remain mostly inconspicuous, taking a seat up the back, even as he insisted Regulus join the Potters upfront; he was family.

Regulus didn't. He sat at by his side.

In fact, at Severus' mention of the word 'family', the other man had looked only ashamed and Severus knew very well why.

Regulus bore the guilt of it keenly; Sirius Black's death. Once again, laying blame for the loss of innocent life at his own feet for, if he had only been more sensible, stronger, more like _Black_ , then he would never have joined the Dark Lord, and would never have done this, or that, and this person may have been saved or that person may not have done this, ad infinitum.

Regulus took far too much upon himself.

Both knew that many contributed to this turn of events. It could not be put down wholly to the actions of one. And, if it could, the one would not be Regulus.

Oh no!

Once again, the blame for all could be laid at his _own_ door.

For Dumbledore had made it very clear that, had the Dark Lord nor Lily never have known the contents of the prophecy, neither would have sought to discredit it and it may have simply vanished into obscurity as one of the many thousands of unfulfilled prophecies that graced the Department of Mysteries.

And who was it who saw to it that _both_ learned the contents of the prophecy?

 _Who else_.

The fates hated Severus Snape just as much as they seemed to hate Harry Potter.

Severus caught sight of the boy as he thought it, Harry Potter getting to his feet – _mid-service, mind_ – and turning and hurrying down the centre aisle, making his way for the exit.

Lily stood then, casting a sheepishly apologetic look at the conductor of service, and made her way after him. Her expression set in both concern and annoyance, but it faltered somewhat when she met his eyes as she drew closer to the rear of the room. The same surprise there as Regulus' had expressed that morning and Severus felt suddenly self-conscious.

It was the first time he had seen her in the week since the Dark Lord's fall. She being unable to tear herself away due to the need to be there for her child and he unable to even locate her because Dumbledore had advised that their home be placed under the Fidelius – _a little late for that!_ – to protect them from the Death Eaters who still ran free.

If being there for Malachi and Regulus was not good enough reason, at least seeing her, even from distance, to assure himself that she was alright, at least coping, was enough to draw him there.

Lily's surprise dwindled, as if she could read his thoughts, and she gave him a smile, a grateful one, before she went on by, after her son.

* * *

Harry ground the heels of his hands against his eyelids, furiously, against the tears that fell, and couldn't help the jump when he was suddenly seized by the arm.

"Harry."

His mum's voice was gentle, even though her grip was firm; "Sweetheart, you can't just run out. We're here to say goodbye to Uncle Sirius."

Harry shook his head, his tears still coming; "He can't hear us, anyway."

His mum got to her knees, so that she was lower than him, and pulled him in for a hug. He let her. He didn't care if he looked like a baby to everyone he knew could see, people who were watching through the doorway. People he had never even seen before.

"Harry," his mum whispered, drawing back and pressing her hand to his chest, against his heart; "Uncle Sirius is in here. He's with you, always."

Harry shook his head; "How?"

His mum lifted her eyes skywards, giving him a wry smile; "Right there. That defiant little look in those eyes; that's your Uncle Sirius all over."

Harry wondered if it was true. If he was really like him. Everyone had kept telling him that his Uncle Sirius wasn't his dad. That his dad was someone else, as much as he wanted it to be different. Was it possible that he was like him at all, if he wasn't really his son? Or his nephew, like Malachi was; Malachi looked just like him.

"They watch us, Harry," his mum went on, her voice quiet and her hand stroking his hair; "He's always watching you. With you."

Harry frowned, eyes going back to the room that he'd just run from.

"Will he be angry I ran away when they were talking about him?"

His mum smiled, shaking her head; "I think he'll understand."

"He always understands."

"Yes."

Harry felt his bottom lip tremble and he lowered his eyes. He didn't want to hear them talking about him. They didn't know him right. They didn't know the proper stories. The _good_ ones.

They didn't tell the story about how his Uncle Sirius would laugh all the time, every time Harry told a joke, even though he knew it wasn't very good or he'd messed up the punchline because he was trying too quickly to get to the end.

They didn't tell the story how his Uncle Sirius had stayed up all night with him that time he was sick and made him forget how rotten he felt by letting him eat ice cream and teaching him Wizarding Chess until they'd finally fallen asleep in front of the fire.

And there weren't any stories about how he would take Harry flying, real high up, making him feel like if he reached just so that the sky was right there and he could touch it, as they soared among the clouds.

Harry sniffed, wiping his nose across the back of his sleeve. He knew his mum didn't like it when he did that but he figured she wouldn't care, not just now. She had her worried face on.

But her eyes were dry.

She hadn't cried.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sad?"

His mum looked surprised, chin lifting slightly, and she looked like she had to actually think about it even though Harry knew she must be. He knew she loved his Uncle Sirius too, just like his Uncle Remus did, and he had heard his Uncle Remus cry and cry when he had run away from them the night it had happened. Closing the door, as if he thought that would mean they wouldn't hear.

Grown-ups always wanted to hide when they cried. He wondered if his mum was the same, if that's why she hadn't yet. Because he wouldn't leave her alone.

"It's okay if you're sad, Mum. Uncle Sirius was your friend."

He called upon the words his uncle had said to him, months before, when he had thought Malachi had died.

When he'd promised him that he'd always come home again.

His mum gave him a smile but it was so sad Harry almost wished he hadn't said it. It made him hurt, right there in his tummy, when his mum got sad. It had been a while, though, since she had looked like that. She'd been happy for a long time until now.

"I know, Sweetheart." Her voice shook a little but she still didn't cry. He was glad, he realised. He didn't want his mum to cry.

But he hugged her anyway and she held him back, tight.

He murmured into her robes; "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too, baby."

Harry didn't like it when she called him that, usually he would pull away and scrunch up his nose and tell her he was grown up now, but this time he didn't. Something about the way she said it made him think she needed to say it and it didn't really bother him much just now, anyway, because crying in his mum's arms was as close to being a baby as he could get.

And he didn't care.

* * *

It was almost three weeks before Lily had the chance to slip away.

Three weeks of pain and grief and _thinking_ , as the reality of all that had suddenly come crashing down upon them became clear. Everything that she, that all of them, had fought against creeping up and gripping them when they were all looking the other way.

Harry was the one.

Just as Lily had feared all along. Just as Dumbledore had implied with that oh-so-subtle but ever-present glimmer in his eyes when he had warned them all that Voldemort must never know the contents of the prophecy. That he must never suspect Dumbledore knew more.

That he must never suspect Harry.

In the end, even that didn't matter.

As far as all of them knew, even the Death Eaters, the dark wizard _hadn't_ suspected Harry. He had just found himself in a situation where a potential threat, even if a past one, was suddenly offered up to him on a plate and had, of course, taken the opportunity to eliminate him.

And now Sirius was dead. Grief gripped her, just as it always did when she thought it, the truth that her old friend was gone all too real whenever she looked into the haunted eyes of her little boy who couldn't be expected to understand all that had happened and why his beloved Godfather had been taken from them.

Lily knocked.

She wasn't sure if she should knock.

She and Severus were long past pleasantries by now.

But she waited all the same until the door was pulled open, Severus greeting her with surprised eyes and a habitual quick glance out at the surroundings behind her. Even if Voldemort was gone for now. Even if they were supposedly safe.

"Lily."

Her smile didn't meet her eyes, she knew, even if she was glad to see him, stepping into the house without hesitation when Severus moved aside in unspoken invitation.

The door clicked shut behind her and she picked upon on Severus' uncertainty quickly, his concern evident even if he seemed to hold it back, shifting and eyeing her cautiously as if he wasn't sure what he ought to do or say.

"Hey," she offered, quietly, one shoulder lifting in a shrug and that seemed all he needed, stepping closer.

"Are you…" he paused, before drawing in a breath; "Are you alright?"

"Mm." She bit her lip, nodding; "Peachy."

"Your son?"

She glanced away, a heavy silence falling over them both as she did. Too much to say on both sides but both already knowing what the other was thinking, this times, and the words unspoken seeming unnecessary to be voiced at all.

Both knew the reality of the situation now. And both knew what had brought them here.

"You've spoken with the Headmaster? He regaled some of the details to me. What happened."

Lily nodded, meeting his eyes once more; "Yes."

She'd spoken with Dumbledore enough to last her a lifetime.

Gone round in circles with him one too many times over Voldemort and her son and what she ought to do, what it all meant, and how she had chosen wrongly, the first time, by listening at all and not just doing what her first gut-instinct had told her; to run, to hide.

Take the chance, she had become convinced, and it had more than blown back up in her face.

Sirius was dead.

Her son would never be safe.

"Lily."

Severus seemed to read her thoughts, picked up on the hopelessness in them, and stepped towards her, his hand gripping her by the shoulder and then reaching up, cupping her cheek, and she crumbled then, for the first time since it had happened.

Allowed the grief to take hold as she sobbed, Severus pulling her tight into his arms, and even through the sound of her own cries and the haze of losing herself in them she was certain she heard him whisper that he was sorry.

Lily drew back when she got a grip of herself, touching her forehead to his, eyes still closed; "Sev?"

"Yes?"

She swallowed, eyes opening to meet his, and her voice was quiet, vulnerable, even though she knew the answer without really needing to hear it, without even having to ask the question; "Will you be there?"

Severus' eyes softened, and there was relief there, as if he had hoped she would ask, as if he had been waiting for it; for her to tell him that's what she wanted.

And she did.

She wanted him, _needed_ him, for whatever it was that was coming next. Whatever it was that she couldn't even muster up the energy to predict in that moment, because everything any of them thought might or could happen hadn't even come close to measuring up to what actually had.

And from the look in his eyes, Lily knew that Severus needed her the same way.

His grip of her tightened.

"Always."

_**~End of Part One~** _


	38. January 1994: Grace

_6th January 1994..._

Harry had long since tried to forget it.

The hollowness of his Godfather's eyes as he stared through him, lifeless where he had fallen to the floor. He'd pushed away the whispering memories of his voice, a panic in it that was so foreign to him back then, as he told him to get out, to run, the desperation rising with each second that Harry defied him.

Standing there, foolishly, with his chin raised as he attempted to prove that, hey, he could be brave and strong and he wasn't going to just turn and run away in the face of danger.

All memories of it returned to him in a cloudy haze, as the piercing cold gripped him deep within his veins; vision blurring even as the voices surrounded him. Sirius telling him to run. A high, sinister voice mocking him; _"oh so brave"._

Before the truth, the unspoken truth he buried from his retellings, sounded and reminded him once again of the secret he kept.

" _I have use of you yet, Black. Get out of my way."_

Then, the words that still haunted his nightmares, even now, years later; _"Avada Kedavra!"_

And Harry was lost in the haze, falling and drowning in it, as he spiralled.

"Harry!"

He blinked.

He was on his back, looking upwards. His vision clear and time seeming to have passed.

Above him, his Uncle Remus knelt, looking down at him with a familiar expression of concern.

Harry closed his eyes, drawing in a breath. Right. They were at Hogwarts.

"Sorry."

Remus' hand went to his shoulder, pausing in a reassuring grip, before it helped him up into a sitting position; "There's no need to apologise, Harry. This is only the first lesson; to be able to fight them off so quick would be a feat, indeed."

Harry shot him a sheepish smile, glancing down; "They affect me worse than everyone else. People…expect me to be able to do better."

It was always the case. Ever since he'd gotten the scar, people had looked at and treated him differently; as if the mark made him special, stronger.

He wasn't.

All he'd done was stand there and watch his Uncle Sirius die.

It was all wrong.

"The dementors affect you more strongly than your classmates because you've faced far greater horrors than most of them can even imagine," Remus said, his hand still reassuringly gripping his shoulder when he leaned forward, speaking firmly; "Harry. You're _not_ weak."

Harry kept his eyes on the floor.

"When the dementors get close to me…I hear Voldemort murdering Uncle Sirius."

Remus looked away, almost as if in a flinch, but recovered himself quickly, nodding slowly and speaking in that same understanding manner he always did, whenever Harry let the conversation drift towards Sirius Black and what had happened that night; the little he allowed himself to say.

"I suspected. It is a painful memory. One you shouldn't have had to live."

Harry considered it, once more, as he often did when he spoke with his surviving uncle. Remus always had that way about him, the ability to make one feel safe enough to want to just reveal everything, to tell and offload and ask for reassurances or comfort.

But Harry pushed it aside.

He couldn't.

Even if the dementors made him remember it so clearly, once more; what he had tried to bury down deep inside.

" _I have use of you yet, Black. Get out of my way."_

The meaning was clear.

Voldemort had not been after Sirius that night, hadn't even wanted his uncle dead. No. It had been Harry he had wanted.

Harry didn't understand it; he could barely make sense of what had happened, how the dark wizard's expression had changed, the glint in his eyes turning from mocking to menacing when Harry had lifted his chin and spoken his name clear as day, no idea that speaking it would somehow change everything.

He didn't understand how, back then, his own name could mean anything to anyone. But, apparently, it did. Enough that Sirius had died for it.

Harry never told them, told no one except Malachi the truth; his mum and his Uncle Remus had loved Sirius too and he couldn't bear it, having them know that it was all his fault.

Harry drew in a breath, meeting Remus' eyes and shooting him a smile; "Thanks, Uncle – uh… _Professor."_

Remus smiled.

"But do you mind if we stop? I…I'm still wiped. Hermione wanted to do a study session last night and, well, since I'm not exactly academic extraordinaire it lasted a _while_."

A chuckle and a nod; "Of course, Harry. You go on back. I could do with some rest myself."

They both got to their feet and Harry furtively cast a glance over Remus as they did; noted the way he winced as he straightened up, discomfort evident even as he tried to conceal it, and he made a mental note to bring it up with his mum the next time he saw her. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done so, but being in such close proximity the past few months only highlighted it more.

"See you tomorrow," Harry said, with a smile, before heading from the classroom.

He cast a glance over his shoulder, to check if he was being watched, but the corridor was clear and he ducked sideways, taking a different route to the Tower and heading in the direction of the library. The experience with the faux-dementor igniting the same urge within him to learn more about what had happened that night. About the man, the monster, who had come after them.

A familiar sight of black hair up ahead caught his eye.

"Malachi!"

* * *

"Slytherin!"

Malachi had sunk further into the seat, Sorting Hat on his head, as his eyes met Harry's across the Great Hall. Harry stared back at him, looking at him as if he'd just committed the most unforgivable betrayal imaginable, and Malachi had felt rotten as he stepped down to make his way to his new House table.

His eyes met Severus' as he walked past the long table and his Godfather, his new Head of House, smiled at him.

And then he didn't feel quite so bad.

Back then, Malachi didn't understand what it meant. Sure, he and Harry would be in different houses at Hogwarts, but what did that really matter if they were still in the same building. They'd still see one another.

Malachi got it now.

His first year was enough to open his eyes.

Still, he and Harry ignored it. At least, he tried to. Harry never seemed to be bothered by anything anyone said but, then, everyone in _his_ house loved him. In all the houses, actually, except Malachi's.

The Slytherins were strange.

They thought it was, at best, an oddity that Malachi should want to spend any time at all with a Gryffindor – least of all Harry Potter – and sometimes they would call him a blood traitor and throw out insults at his father, or his Uncle. Blood traitors before him, they'd say.

But then, other times, it seemed like they wanted him on their side.

Maybe Draco had something to do with it. But it threw him all the same.

With the Slytherins in his House, it was as if everything that his housemates said or did was calculated, thought out, as if they were playing a game. And Malachi always felt like he was losing.

"Hey."

Harry gave him a wide grin when he caught up; "Alright? Where are you going?"

"Dungeons."

"Fancy a trip to the library?"

"It's almost curfew."

Harry drew back the lapel of his robe a bit, revealing the smallest glimpse of his invisibility cloak, before dropping it and turning eager eyes on him; "Come on, I've got something to show you."

"What?"

Malachi asked the question but both knew Harry didn't need to answer, his attention well and truly secured simply by the excited glint in the older boy's eye, and he stepped into place beside him as they made their way down the deserted corridor, Harry pulling out a piece of parchment as he did.

The words – _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good "_ – almost whispered, as they headed towards the library.

"Wow!"

* * *

"Nicely handled, Mrs Potter."

"And yet we have nothing."

Regulus grinned, tucking away a handful of parchments; "I wouldn't say nothing. We know there was definitely sightings in Godric's Hollow now."

A place Lily had never had any wish to return to, tonight being the first time she had since many years before.

"There's traces of it, could you feel it? The last Horcrux and then all this is over."

Lily gave him a slight smile, a conceding one, even if she was quite certain it wasn't true. The memory she'd procured from his old Potion's Professor some years before was only a glimpse, a clue, and there was no telling that the number of horcruxes created were limited to the six that Tom Riddle spoke of.

It seemed almost too easy, that five had already been discovered and handed over to Dumbledore, that the last one they hunted – the snake – was the final key. Almost too good to be true, that when Voldemort returned, he would do so as mortal, once more.

But years of hunting and researching pointed to it being truth. Dumbledore's guidance, his assurances that Voldemort's soul simply could not withstand any further splitting necessary to create further horcruxes, all indicated that the end was close. Find the snake and then they'd have a chance.

Harry would have a chance.

But Lily couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. There was something else, something they didn't know.

And for all the reassurances her old Headmaster had given she and Regulus over the years, her doubts still remained.

Despite all they had been through or, perhaps, because of it; she still didn't trust Dumbledore.

"I'd better get back."

Regulus met her eyes.

"Unless there's more you wanted to do here?"

"No, we're done. I'll set up a few charms, some traces," he held up a hand, giving it a playful flick away; "Go on. I can handle it. Besides, I know there's someone you'd much rather be heading home to right now."

Lily's lips twitched; "Actually, I needed to head to St Mungo's for a bit. See how Mr Colhoun's responding."

"Oh well, then you'd _better_ be heading off; you really ought to tell that boss of yours to ease up a bit."

She shot him a sly smirk; "Fat chance of that happening."

Regulus laughed as she headed off.

Her feet carried her forward, mind lost in thoughts of Voldemort and Horcruxes and the fate of her son, as it often did whenever she allowed her mind to wander too long or when she headed out on these missions, and she was mere feet from the cottage before she realised where her steps had carried her.

Lily hadn't come back here; even when they had set up to sell the place years before, Sirius had been the one to deal with packing up, dealing with the buyers, finalising the sale.

It stood there, just as before, completely unchanged and Lily caught sight of three children through the window, sitting in front of the fireplace as they played together. A woman walked by, inside the house, drawing their attention and then there was smiles and laughter.

It was nothing like her own memories of the place. The dynamic of her own family had been entirely different but the essence of it all had been the same. The love, the laughter.

Lily stepped away then, carrying on her path, but as she did a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She'd avoided the place, the memories, for so long.

But she realised, now, finally facing them; it really didn't hurt anymore to remember them.

* * *

"Nothing."

Harry tossed the book he was going through aside.

"Well we've read these books about a _hundred_ times," Malachi pointed out; "There's nothing to find. You'd be better just asking someone."

"I can't."

"They won't care, Harry. If you think it's you he was after the whole time then it's better your mum knows, anyway. So they can protect you properly."

"More than they already do? It doesn't matter if they know he was after me _before_ because they already know that's he's after me _now._ So whatever they do when I tell them won't be any different than what they already do; except, if they knew what really happened, then they'd know it was my fault Uncle Sirius is gone."

"I don't think that."

"You're different."

Malachi Black was Harry Potter's best friend. And he loved him.

But, sometimes, when he looked at the other boy who looked so much like their Uncle Sirius that it made his stomach turn, Harry would think that while their uncle may have died _for_ Harry; he wouldn't have _had_ to if it wasn't because of Malachi Black and his father.

And, at those times, Harry couldn't help hating him a bit.

 _That's_ how he knew that he couldn't tell his mum and Uncle Remus the truth.

Because Malachi _was_ different. He'd been through just as much, even more, than what Harry had but he didn't get angry or blame anyone else for anything. He just accepted it, like it was normal.

Harry got angry all the time when he thought he was being wronged.

"Maybe we should just head back," Harry said, when the silence stretched and a tug of guilt pulled at his gut for where his thoughts had turned. He always felt guilty, when they did.

"Oh. Okay." Malachi shrugged, snapping shut the book he had been skimming through, and using his wand to return it and the books around them back to the shelf, before the two of them got to their feet and drew the invisibility cloak over their heads, making their way from the library.

It was well past curfew.

Harry pulled out the map as they walked along, heading in the direction of the dungeons first, so Malachi could get as close to them as he could without being spotted by the patrols.

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"Professor McGonagall. She's heading for the Gryffindor tower."

"So?"

"She might want to speak to us or something," Harry explained, quickly, beginning to shrug himself out from under the cloak. He didn't have time for _more_ detentions this week, he already had a backlog of essays and Quiddich practice to account for, not to mention the new lessons with Remus.

"What are you doing?"

"You go, keep the cloak. I've got the map."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, alright."

Harry didn't wait for a response, though he heard a faintly whispered 'bye' as he cast a 'lumos' and made his way back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, quickly opening the map further to where he was and scanning the surrounding corridors for anyone who threatened to cross his path.

It was still a marvel to him, the map that the Weasley twins had handed over some weeks before, eyes quickly becoming caught up in following the various names that moved across the page.

Filch cut off one of his routes, so he diverted to take another.

Other students out after hours, some names he didn't even recognise, danced across the parchment. Two boys out and about down in the dungeons, close to where Malachi was approaching. A boy and a girl climbing the steps of the Astronomy Tower.

Remus Lupin out on the grounds.

 _That_ got Harry's attention, his eyes lingering and his footsteps slowing somewhat as he took in his uncle's steps. Watched as he headed further out, in direction of the Whomping Willow, drawing closer and closer until Harry couldn't help just stopping and watching, curiosity piqued as Remus drew nearer, too near to possibly be safe – Harry knew that from his own experiences with the tree.

Harry had the sudden urge to run out, to stop him, maybe Remus didn't know about the tree. After all, he'd only been there a few months.

But then, he'd actually _gone_ to Hogwarts, so surely he'd know?

So caught up in his own thoughts, it was with a jolt that his eyes took in another name on the map, one dangerous close to _himself_ at that moment, having managed to sneak up upon him with seconds.

Severus Snape.

Harry quickly unlit his wand, a hastily uttered _"mischief managed"_ concealing the maps contents, just as the Potions Professor rounded the corner and the corridor was lit with light once again.

"Potter."

Fantastic.

He'd hurried to get away and back to the Gryffindor Tower in order to avoid a detention with McGonagall, only to put himself in the position of, instead, receiving a detention with _Snape._

Give him scrubbing the Transfiguration Classroom from top to bottom with a bloody toothbrush over _yet another_ detention writing out line after line from Snape's _boring_ books about occlumency and defensive theory and potion uses any day.

Before coming to Hogwarts, Harry didn't really remember Severus Snape much. He'd only seen him a few times before, back when he used to work with his mum, but Malachi saw him all the time and he always said how great he was.

So, when Harry had attended his first potions class, he wasn't in the least bit prepared when he came under Professor Snape's scrutiny.

"Mr Potter. Our new _celebrity_."

Harry could only stare, mumbling and shaking his head under the Potion Master's questions, as he asked him things Harry had no clue as the answer to. Wasn't that why he was here – _to learn_?

"Tut-tut. Clearly fame isn't everything."

Harry had hated Snape instantly.

Malachi had told him to lighten up, Snape was obviously just mucking about – as if _Snape_ would ever 'muck about' with anyone – and told him he'd probably just caught him on a bad day or something.

If that were the case, Harry was pretty certain that the only condition necessary for Snape to be having 'a bad day' was for Harry to occupy it. Even when the professor didn't speak with him, which he very rarely did, Harry often caught him staring.

Harry said nothing, now, only eyeing the potions professor in turn.

"Should we even bother with excuses this evening, Mr Potter? Or shall we just say seven o' clock tomorrow evening? I believe you know the whereabouts."

Harry almost frowned when Snape simply picked up his steps once more and strode on by, part of him ready to call him back and protest the punishment and the other rendered speechless by the quick dismissal.

It was almost as if Snape had someplace else he'd rather be.

Alone once more, Harry pulled out the map again, quickly activating it and his eyes going to the parchment; first seeking out 'Remus Lupin' and seeing nothing, his uncle seeming to have disappeared from Hogwarts entirely in those few minutes that he had looked away.

Harry's eyes went to another name, then, to the other man who'd behaved so peculiarly just moments before.

Severus Snape, who was now out on the grounds, the name moving with speed away from the castle, further and further away until the name eventually slipped from the map, leaving the grounds also.

Harry frowned, eyes still on the map in bafflement, his mind reeling over where the two Professors had gone.

* * *

Severus hated Hogwarts.

In fact, he hated teaching full-stop.

Every year, every class, every child was the same mind-numbing routine, day in, day out and Severus almost always knew what he was going to encounter. Even if a potion was to go well, the results were nothing spectacular because it was something he had seen a thousand times before, in the very same classroom, the very same assignment. Just a different child.

True enough, occasionally, rarely, he would come across a child who was evidently gifted, had the potential to do more, to be more. But even in those circumstances his guidance was restricted, dictated by curriculum and upcoming assessments. Not to mention, the other, less than impressive students in their year.

Severus longed for his days back at the Foundation.

Longed for the days of Orion and Dorado, when every day began with the potential for new discovery, an experiment, a challenge. Not to mention, Regulus was there and he found the company of the other professors at Hogwarts severely lacking; most taking him too seriously and the others not seriously enough.

And, of course, there was Lily, also. She was at the Foundation now, having returned to work there just over a year ago; loving the purpose, the opportunities, the innovations the place offered. Turning to him, wide eyed, asking him what he thought of this and that, what he would do, what was his opinion, what did he think they ought to try next. Severus took the opportunity to provide his input eagerly, keen to be involved in something, _anything_ that reminded him that, yes, his brain was still there and it was still working, capable; just waiting until this fight was done so he could finally get back to using it.

For now, his brain was entirely tied up in the mind-numbing role of Professor of Hogwarts. And, since three years ago, protector of one Harry Potter, no longer able to split his time at the place half-way, due to the full-time nature of _that_ job.

Harry Potter drove him _crazy_.

And he was quite certain the boy _loathed_ him, right down to his very guts. But that was good, that was the plan; everyone had to believe as such. Especially his classmates, especially the Slytherins. And the frequent detentions assigned, now, would be the perfect cover, later, when it was time for Severus to finally begin preparing him for that which lay ahead.

The Dark Lord.

If the boy thought Severus was bad, wait until _that_ particular demon came along. Severus would see to it he was ready, that he would succeed. For Lily, if not for the rest of the world.

Severus noticed it then, the flower in the window; colour changing from neutral lilac to deep yellow. He smiled and, with a cautious glance around the area, emerged from where he had settled; leaving the shadows and making his way across the path, to the door, crossing the threshold.

Home.

He shrugged out of his cloak, hanging it routinely on the rack as he passed through, heading straight to the kitchen, the sink, and leaned down to splash some water on his face.

His eyes glanced around the room for a moment when he drew back, taking in the pictures that scattered the walls. Moving images, too, that smiled and waved from their frames; there was the little Potter. _Harry_ , his mind reminded him, for he was just Harry in this house.

At Hogwarts, it was easy to slip into it. Potter. Particularly when he strode down the halls with Malachi Black at his side, the latter resembling his uncle so acutely that, if Severus squinted, allowed his eyesight to blur a little, it was almost as if _he_ were a child again; a student at Hogwarts. And there was James Potter and Sirius Black, heading down the hallway towards him.

Potter and Black; round two.

And yet, these boys were not the same men whose names they bore, House scarves revealing an entirely different story there. One red and golden; the other green and silver. Crossing House boundaries in the same way he and Lily had once done, more than two decades before. And their relationship, Severus knew, was just as controversial now as it had been back then. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor.

Not expected. Not accepted. Not allowed.

Severus found himself shameless rooting for them, silently, in the secret crevices of his mind, hoping they could do it. Make it. Like he and Lily couldn't. Hadn't. Back then, at least.

Now, of course, was a different story for them, also. But, hell, had it taken a long time for them to repair the damage their years at Hogwarts had wrought.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew him from his thoughts. Recognised the steps, the patter, the familiar gait and he smiled, unable to help himself. Never could. Not when it came to her.

She who, with a simple smile, a glance in his direction, eyes bright and trusting and entirely devoted made everything seem worthwhile; seeing nothing of who he once was. Seeing only the man he was now. And his heart melted every time.

The door to the kitchen pushed open and there she was.

Fiery red hair.

Green eyes that sparkled, hopeful and brightening when they quickly sought and landed upon him.

A smile on her lips and a giggle in her voice when she spoke;

"Daddy!"

* * *

1988.

The Dark Lord had fallen once more.

The war was over.

Or, rather, suspended, pending further developments.

It was merely the calm before, yet another, storm but it was a welcome one. A time he and Lily played to their full advantage. No spying missions to contend with. No battles to fight in. No Order meetings to attend.

It had been easy to become complacent. To forget the stakes.

And with complacency came carelessness.

With Sirius Black dead, Remus Lupin stepped up to the plate, filling the void that the loss of his Godfather had left in Harry Potter's life; weekend visits became the norm. Two nights per week, just as before.

Only, this time, rather than being fraught with a seemingly endless stream of worries and doubts, the time was spent in relative harmony, their relationship becoming steadier, stronger, as the focus shifted from _trying_ to be together to just _being_ together.

Severus didn't think life could get any better than this. Though, later, these musings were proven quite false.

Lily would come to him every Friday night and, for two days, they were just Severus and Lily; together, no one to answer to, no one to hide from. Except the world and they were more than happy to spend the entire time indoors. Totally fooling themselves into believing they were _normal_ ; a simple life. Touching when they wished; kisses; conversing long into the night; shared showers in the morning; breakfast in bed.

And sex.

 _Lots_ of it.

Both always ready to go. In the morning; the afternoon; the evening; the night. In the shower; on the couch; in the kitchen; on the stairs; in the pantry; on the floor. Whenever, wherever they wanted it.

Like teenagers.

_Bliss, indeed._

They took all the right precautions. Used all the correct procedures; cast all the charms. But, under such an onslaught, it is no wonder the 'margin for error' saw fit to add them to its percentage.

It should have been no surprise, then, when Lily had turned to him, a rainy night in September, eyes full of apprehension as she spoke the words; _"I'm pregnant."_

It wasn't good news.

They talked until dawn.

Every word and thought driven by the simple question; could they have the baby?

Neither he nor Lily shied away from it. Both knew the stakes. Both knew the reality. Even if they _had_ closed their eyes to it that year; allowed themselves to become lost in one another as the war faded from present to memory.

Question after question presented itself, one after the other, each one harder than that which came before.

What would it mean for them?

What about Harry? Was he ready to know? Was it too soon? He was only nine. Too young. Not ready for the burden.

Would they be able to protect the baby? Child of the spy. Blood of the Marked Boy.

Could they keep the baby a secret? The father? Was that even possible?

If so, who could know? _Someone_ had to know. If something should happen to Lily – _perish the thought_ – someone had to know the true identity of the father.

And would Severus even be allowed to know the baby; would the baby know him, who he was? Could he raise the child? Or would his involvement put the child in danger? Put Lily in danger and worsen the, already abundant, threat to Harry? Most definitely.

Cover blown; the Dark Lord would hunt them all. They two, little Potter and the baby. And with Severus' secret life discovered the Order would lose its last spy, Regulus' loyalties long since exposed. Leaving Harry sent in to fight blind. Defenceless.

Not acceptable. Not after everything they had done, had fought for, every decision carefully made with the heavy reality in the back of their minds that Harry Potter had to be protected, had to be prepared.

Give it a week, they'd said, and then they'd decide but both knew they didn't need it. Both knew what they had to do. It had always been clear, from the very start; there could be no children.

And so, one week later, with the decision made and finally verbalised, Severus set about brewing the potion.

He waited until the Friday to give it to her, wanted to be there when it happened, refused her insistence that it was fine, she could take it at home. He wouldn't leave her alone in this.

He turned to her, held up the goblet that contained it, and she took it from his hand; stared down into the liquid that bubbled. The solution.

The answer to their question; no, they couldn't keep the baby.

It had to be done.

To this day, how close they had come, sent a chill right through him; right to the bone. The goblet was lifted, mere inches from her lips, before Lily had hesitated, eyes still on the brew.

And then, a moment later, her eyes met his through the vapour.

Both knew then, in that instant.

It was only then that Severus dare to think it, that the reality sunk in, over a week after news was first broken to him;

He was going to be a father.

And his treacherous little heart had _soared_.

* * *

"I missed you!" his little girl declared as Severus swept her up into his arms.

He could almost marvel at it, really, the way things had turned out. Not just the circumstances, the situation that he and Lily had now found themselves in; a bittersweet adaption of the life he had sworn to her he could never offer.

But it was not only their new reality that floored him.

If someone had told him he would have this and how the way he would look at things, the way that _he_ would change, as a result, well, he would have simply sneered and turned away.

It was a life he could not have even imagined, no matter how many glimpses he had had in the past into the lives of others who had made it; observing Lucius with his family, or Regulus with Malachi, neither of which prepared him for this. The overturning of his entire world.

Severus had fallen so far as to think in clichés. Silent declarations in his own mind that nothing mattered, not now nor whatever had happened before, except the happiness of his daughter. That he had never even known what it truly was, until Lily had given her to him. Hell, he was becoming a truly sentimental old fool.

"Hm. You too," Severus murmured, pressing his lips to the side of her head, before she drew back with a wide smile.

"Look!" She held up a rather uninspiring object, a piece of rock adapted into a heart, than hung from twine around her wrist; "Harry made it for me. At school."

"Ah. Lovely."

Severus bounced her, manoeuvring as he did so she was now settled on his hip; "I'm thinking someone's supposed to be in their bed?"

"I heard you come home. Mummy thought you would. I was waiting."

Severus pushed aside the jab of guilt; hated the thought of either of them waiting.

"Let's head on up then."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, as he made his way from the kitchen.

* * *

Their daughter was all Lily.

Red hair. Green eyes. Stubborn beyond belief. But, and Lily delighted in pointing this out, she had her father's scowl.

Sometimes Lily would tell him to; _"Look at that face, Sev. She looks just like you, don't you think?"_ when their little girl would be sitting peering into a book or colouring in a picture or focusing on a puzzle but Severus didn't think so at all.

And she couldn't be a Snape.

He and Lily never discussed it. Both knew the way it had to be.

But in the last month of her pregnancy, he had found the papers; a petition to the Ministry, already filled in, to change her name from Potter back to Evans.

Their child could be an Evans.

But there was still Harry Potter. And, after finding the papers, it seemed as if the name, the boy, was suddenly everywhere. Potter. Potter. Potter.

A family.

Lily Evans and Harry Potter and baby Evans.

Severus noticed the way her eyes lingered over her son's name while she read through the report card from the Learning Centre.

It was the first, and only, time Lily had ever done anything that even suggested putting Severus' needs or wishes above her son's. A name.

He loved her for it.

But he still tore up the petition that night.

May the 4th, four weeks later;

Grace Eileen Potter was born.

The first year was the hardest.

Severus missed so much.

Grace's eating and sleeping schedule were so sporadic and Harry Potter was ever present in the house, so moments with his daughter, even Lily, were rare and precious.

Sometimes, while he waited for Lily to give him the sign, he would see the three of them through the window.

Lily, Potter and Grace at the table; baby in her mother's arms as she shared a smile and a laugh with her son. And, sometimes, Severus would think; to hell with it.

 _Fuck the world_.

And he wanted nothing more than to just walk into the house, there and then, and take them – all three of them – and just run.

Harry Potter didn't have to be the world's saviour.

Severus Snape would take the boy as his son, as he had declared he would some years before.

But reality put dash to those hopes.

He knew, when the Dark Lord returned, he would hunt and kill them all for his weakness.

And so he waited, mind lost in fantasies, until Lily hung a yellow t-shirt in the window. It was never the same item – over time, that would become suspicious. But it was always something yellow. The sign it was safe to come home.

* * *

"Harry said that wizards don't call him Santa. We're supposed to call him Father Christmas," Grace stated, seriously, as she paused in her tales of the various activities that she, her brother and their mother had partaken in and the gifts shared and received in the fortnight since he'd be home.

Grace never questioned it. Not yet. Why he was never home whenever her brother was.

"I doubt that he minds either way."

"What do you call him?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, considering the question. Christmas was something never even celebrated in his own childhood, poverty and the general ill-temper of his father rendering the holiday obsolete; rather, the day was an excuse for Tobias Snape to head out of the house earlier than usual, down to the local, and not return until late into the next night, barely lucid or able to stand on his feet.

His first real experience of Christmas had been at the age of nine, when little Lily Evans had presented him with a small wrapped gift and a soft kiss on the cheek, bidding him a 'Merry Christmas, Sev', and he was entirely uncertain whether the best present that day had been the book or the feeling of the little flutter in his stomach when her lips touched his skin.

"Mummy calls him Santa Claus," Grace said, when he didn't answer right away.

Severus shot her a smirk; "Ah. Well, I know better than to get on the wrong side of Mummy, don't I?"

Grace giggled, pulling him further up onto the bed, so that he swung his legs up and allowed her to nestle in alongside him; "Okay, now it's your turn."

"My turn?"

"For a story."

"I fear it's long past that time, young lady." He titled her head up by the chin, giving her a small smile when he caught her in a yawn; "You'll not make it to the end."

"Yes I will!"

Severus shifted, a smile still playing in his lips, when a pleading 'please, Daddy' escaped her, as her little hand tightened around his wrist, the other reaching into the folds for his wand. She pulled it out, wielding it playfully; " _Magic_!"

"That is not a toy," Severus remarked, taking it from her, shooting what he hoped was a disapproving look her way, even as she beamed up at him, unabashedly, making it impossible for him to truly scowl.

With a sigh – and because he could never refuse her, especially not tonight, after such a long time away – he ' _accioed'_ one of the nearby books from the bookshelf. He held it up, presenting the cover to her, raising an eyebrow in question and she nodded her approval.

"Alright," he conceded and her smile widened in triumph, before she settled in closer against him, nudging his arm around her and fitting easily into the nook beneath his arm; getting herself comfortable and melting his heart in the process, as he flicked open the book to the first page.

* * *

There were questions, of course. Enquiries.

Lily had never expressed an interest in anyone. There had been no potential love interests. No hint that there was a man in her life at all. So, when her pregnancy became apparent, those who knew her were floored.

Who was this little girl's father?

The only person who didn't ask or take part in the speculation was Remus Lupin.

But his apparent disinterest only made him appear suspicious and, with Sirius Black gone and Lupin her closest friend, well; the conclusion was inevitable.

Remus Lupin was _obviously_ Grace Potter's father.

Lily denied it at first. But Severus told her not to. Let it be. Better they thought that than knew the truth. So Lily kept silent.

Only four people knew the truth of her parentage; they two, Remus Lupin and Regulus Black.

And Grace, of course, so long as she was too young to blow his cover.

And that was how things settled. The secret, the truth, became normal for them and Lily adapted just as well to it as she had to their relationship, some years before. But then, both had different ways of looking at the fight.

For Severus, he gained his strength from the glimpse, the promise that being with them gave of the future. The family he had long since given up on ever believing he could have, so close within his grasp, a life so much better and more than he could have hoped for. Whereas for Lily, what they had now was enough. They two and her children safe and happy and alive. Her strength came from the present and she never demanded more.

But, Severus was determined, he would give that to her anyway. Certainly, there were moments of happiness, moments of _gold,_ in the life they had now, but they could do better. He could do better. And he would. He'd give her it all, all at once, the four of them.

He'd make sure Harry Potter would win this fight.

Of course, that was easier said than done.

The game was not an easy one to play. One slip, and it could all be for nothing. All they had done and all they had fought for wiped out, should anyone start to suspect the truth.

When Severus had first began teaching at Hogwarts years ago – before Lily – he had dreaded the year that the boy would be among the new intake of students.

A daily reminder of the marriage between Lily Evans and James Potter and all he had wanted and all he had lost.

By the time nineteen-ninety-one actually came around, Severus couldn't have predicted the way everything had actually turned out. And September couldn't come quick enough.

Partly because, in September, Harry Potter would be eleven and finally at Hogwarts, old enough to be at school, and his daughter, Grace, would be at home with Lily, two years old and still too young to threaten his cover. Young enough that Severus could be with them when he could steal the moments; they could pretend for a little while.

And also, because it would mean things were finally moving. He was finally doing _something_ to make their future a reality. Start preparing the boy for the fight.

But, in the end, his resolve fell short.

Severus blamed his inability to pick up on the signs that the Dark Lord had possession of the insufferable Quirrell on the fact that every moment of every day at Hogwarts that year, all Severus could think or care about was just getting the day's lessons over with as quickly as possible so he could get back home in time to tuck his little girl into bed at night.

Some nights he didn't make it; Harry Potter saw to that.

* * *

A ghost of a kiss flickered against his cheek.

Soft tendrils of hair skimming the spot in turn and ticking his nose.

It was the little giggle that woke him, then, when the sensation made his face twitch, eyes slowly opening and settled on very familiar green ones mere inches away.

"Hi."

The voice was low, a mix of delight and seductiveness, and then Severus realised where he was. Fast asleep, still in his robes, on top of his daughter's bed, Grace snuggled in and sleeping soundly at his side, the book he had been reading to her lying forgotten on his lap.

Severus met Lily's eyes once more, giving her a small smile.

She returned it, lifting an eyebrow, and still speaking quietly, so as not to wake up the little girl at his side; "Happy New Year."

Severus sighed, reaching up and slipping a hand behind the nape of her neck, drawing her close and pressing his lips to hers, the leisurely manner in which he kissed her reveal nothing of his eagerness to finally do so again.

It had been too long.

Lily sighed soundly into his mouth, her hands coming up to his shoulders and her forehead pressing to his when she drew back; "I thought you might be back tonight."

"Sorry it took so long."

"Hm. I have an idea of what might have kept you."

Of course she did. Harry Potter. What else?

Lily gave him an affectionate smile, thumb caressing his cheek; "How was your Christmas?"

"Same as ever. Malfoy Manor is always a rather dull affair. But one can't fault the food."

"Who would dare?"

"Precisely."

It was always the same, every year, Lily would spend Christmas with the children and he would spend Christmas with Narcissa and Draco Malfoy – it certainly beat the alternative of staying at Hogwarts – and then they would politely skirt around the topic and the reasons why they hadn't spent it together, the four of them – or, rather, five, for Lupin always received an invitation – as if it were all completely normal.

Lily shifted, meeting his eyes, and asked him the same question she never could keep from asking on the nights he managed to slip home; "How is he?"

"Fine."

"Mischief?"

"Of course."

Lily smiled, lowering her eyes, an affectionateness in them that always arose when the subject of her son came up.

"Nothing to be concerned about," Severus offered his assurances; a comfort to her to know that, in the few days since he had been back at Hogwarts and away from her, he had not yet managed to put himself in a life and death situation such as, oh, being lured to the Philosopher's Stone by the Dark Lord or, even, down into the Chamber of Secrets to save a stupid little girl.

Perish the thought that his own daughter should inherit such a foolish propensity of demonstrating ' _bravery'_.

Secretly and silently, he often pleaded with the deities that Grace would be more Slytherin than Gryffindor.

Then again, Potter and his antics had been relatively harmless so far this year, not yet putting himself or his merry band of cronies in mortal danger – though there was plenty of time for that – and he wondered if he could thank the werewolf for that, for keeping the boy in check and distracting him with promises of patronus charms and boggart fighting.

Occasionally, having the wolf around had its benefits.

"And you?"

Severus met her eyes with a frown; "Me?"

"How are you doing?" Lily elaborated.

Severus moved his shoulders in a lazy shrug; "I have no complaints to speak of."

Except the obvious, his mind supplied.

"Hm. Right. I _thought_ you looked good."

Severus felt his lips twitch at the hint of suggestion in her eyes.

Lily raised an eyebrow, her smile turning wry; "Shall I head off back to bed by myself then? I noticed you looked quite comfortable here before I woke you."

Severus grinned, carefully slipping out from beneath Grace's weight as Lily stood, and gently adjusted the covers around her, before the two of them headed from the room, down the short hallway and into the room on the right.

Their room.

Severus barely had the door shut behind them when he was suddenly pressed back against it, Lily's body flush against him and her lips seeking his.

Severus sighed against them, parting his lips as and his hands reaching up, grasping her by the hips, the waist, sliding upwards to her neck, wanting to touch everywhere all at once but, first, this pesky fabric _had_ to go. He grasped it at her waist, easily pulling the silk nightgown up and up, palms pressing up against the skin beneath, before it came over her head and pooled at their feet.

"Better," he remarked.

Lily chuckled, moving to return the favour, unfastening and pushing his robes from his shoulders, each touch and kiss quickly driving away any and all thoughts of the past, the future and, hell, even their beloved little girl in the next room from his mind, at least for the moment, as his hands grasped tighter and his mouth moved hungrier against hers.

Lily grasped his wand, catching it before it fell to the floor with his robes, and muttered a quick silencing charm before letting it drop to the floorboards with a clink.

Severus leaned in a close, a smile playing on his lips before he claimed hers once more; "Planning on making some noise?"

"Count on it."


	39. January 1994: The Lie

"Harry's been asking questions."

Lily said this as if it were something to be concerned about.

As far as Severus was concerned, her son could do with asking more questions, rather than less. Perhaps if he did, then rational thought would follow for once and Severus would be spared the joy of cleaning up yet another mess.

Severus didn't voice the thought.

He didn't have to, Lily could read him like a book, and he caught the eye roll of hers before she elaborated without need for encouragement.

"About Grace."

"What about Grace?"

"She's been talking about her father, about you, every day since Harry came home for Christmas."

"I thought Lupin had dealt with it."

"Imaginary dad isn't cutting it anymore. He asked me about it before he left."

"What did you say?"

"What do you think I said? I know he can't know."

"It's not safe for him –"

"I know, Severus," Lily interrupted him, her voice belying her obvious exasperation at another of their unwelcome truths. It was easy within these walls to forget it all and pretend they were normal, that Harry wasn't there simply because he was at a school that boards, that Grace was there because she was too young to attend, that Severus was there because he had just finished a typical day at work.

"But it can't be explained away as the dreams of a little girl anymore," Lily went on; "Harry knows her father exists, if nothing else, even if we do manage to pass it off as such."

"Surely he is aware of the nature of the birds and the bees. Does he really need to be given the details of his mother's excursions?"

Lily shot him a look.

"He asked if it's Remus."

Severus pursed his lips.

"He probably heard something at school. Now that Remus is teaching there."

"Or perhaps it's because Lupin has taken it upon himself to impose upon the family holidays."

Lily hesitated at that, meeting his eyes.

When he said nothing, not quite willing to back down from the obvious indication that he was less than pleased with Lupin's far-too-great a role in their family life, Lily shook her head, ignoring the underlying tension; "It's no different than what he's used to. Remus has never missed a Christmas with him." She drew in a breath; "Either way, it doesn't change the issue. It's not Remus and I told him that. Now he wants to know who."

The solution was obvious. If her son persisted with the questions, she was simply going to have to be as vague as possible until he relented.

If he didn't relent, which Severus was certain was entirely possible, then Lily was going to have to lie. Again.

Severus could see that she knew that. Even if she was still in denial.

In some ways, they had been entirely prepared for where they had ended up and what they had gotten themselves into. Both had entered the relationship with eyes wide open. Hell, they had talked and talked and resisted long enough for the truth of their circumstances to be known.

Yet, here they were, and for years they had struggled over it; how to deal with the lies when it came to Grace and Potter.

It was the one thing Lily always seemed to stumble over.

When it had started, it had been almost easy. Although it certainly didn't feel like it at the time, with the Dark Lord having risen again. But compared to now, with the stakes even higher, the truths even more dangerous, the looming threat even greater, it had simply been a picnic in the park. She had only really had to lie to Lupin and Julia.

And Black.

Lily had taken it in stride.

Lying to her children though, especially with her son becoming more aware, Severus was certain nothing could have prepared her for it.

"Maybe things will be different soon."

It was a feeble attempt at comfort, especially considering that 'different' in this case would be by no means better.

They were still waiting for the Dark Lord to rise once more.

Lily didn't get the chance to respond, as a patronus swept into the room suddenly, silencing them both.

It wasn't the first time it had happened and certainly wouldn't be the last.

Nevertheless, a luminescent phoenix bursting into the privacy of their bedroom in the middle of the night, accompanied by Dumbledore's most unwelcome voice, wasn't something either of them could really get used to.

Severus fought his amusement when Lily modesty pulled the bedclothes up further, as if it were Dumbledore himself who had burst into the room.

She always did that.

"Forgive the late hour, Severus. I must ask that you come to my office at your earliest convenience."

Severus was up and out of bed before the message concluded, readying himself to return to Hogwarts after another too-short visit home. Neither voiced the fact that Grace would be disappointed when she woke to find him gone, both aware that Dumbledore's summons could only mean one of two things.

Either Potter had done something that required Severus' intervention, the most likely reason, or there had been some new development in the war effort.

Severus leaned down, pressing a kiss to Lily's temple; "Goodnight."

She didn't ask him any questions and he offered no assurances of explanations.

They'd gotten good at this.

But that truth did nothing to stop the churn in his stomach as he left their home once more.

* * *

Figures surrounded him in the darkness.

Masked faces gleamed in candlelight.

And then there was the voice.

It was different, almost rasping, but Harry still knew it.

He had only heard it once. That was enough that he would never forget it.

"Friends, you have remained loyal to me. This will not be forgotten. And soon our time will come once more."

Harry woke with a gasp, bolting upright as he did, finding himself tangled in the bedsheets and soaked with sweat, clearly having been tossing and turning for a while. But it was the scar that had woken him, more than the tangle or the dream, a searing burn that made him clutch at it with a groan.

"Harry?"

He peered past his hand at Ron, who was watching him with a bleary frown.

"You alright?"

Harry lifted his chin in both the affirmative and as a dismissal, before he turned to his side to face away from him, shaking and hurting and more than a little freaked out by the nightmare.

It wasn't the first time. He'd been having nightmares about the dark wizard who had killed Sirius since the night it happened, had even mentioned them to Professor Dumbledore when he had come upon him one night in his first year.

But this was different, they had been different for some time, but it had taken so long for him to realise that he couldn't pinpoint when they had gone from his memories to this.

It was as if Harry was there, as if he was seeing things that were happening, as if he were the one speaking and had become the monster.

It was as if everything he was seeing was real.

* * *

They didn't do goodbyes.

They certainly didn't do good mornings.

Yet Regulus couldn't help it, that niggle of guilt he got whenever he slipped from the room, from the house, leaving her behind with barely a word.

But then, there was no reason for guilt, not really, as she had never asked for anything more of him than these occasional nights, a giggle in the bars when they happened to run into one another, sometimes a word or two about things that troubled them but it was always without obligation. She never indicated she wanted anything more.

In fact, Regulus was quite certain that she would refuse if he were to offer it.

The heavy stuff, that just wasn't what they did.

Even if he did feel it, sometimes, the desire to see more, to ask more, to simply know her but he daren't voice it because he had no right, not when he wouldn't – couldn't – offer up anything of himself in turn.

"Regulus."

"Hm?"

"Stop thinking so loud. Some of us are trying to sleep."

Regulus couldn't help but grin.

Julia cracked an eye open from where she was sprawled amongst the sheets, offering a wry smile of her own, before she nuzzled back into her pillow, fully intending to go straight to sleep.

That was as sentimental as they got.

Regulus left without a word.

Minutes later, a quick apparation and a few unspoken words to lift the additional wards, had him stepping into the living room of his Fidelius-protect cottage, fully ready to head on up to bed and crash out himself, maybe even have a late start in the morning. Surely it was earned, after a successful evening of Horcrux hunting.

"Late night?"

He almost leapt from his skin when a cloaked figure suddenly stood from one of the armchairs.

Severus crossed his arms across his chest, looking mildly amused at his skittishness.

Well, obviously he was skittish. He was still a marked man, after all, and there were still those loyal who would be more than happy to keep Regulus' severed head on a platter as a future offering for when the Dark Lord returned.

Regulus only grinned in response; both to the rhetorical question and Severus' presence.

"Well, to what do I owe this honour?"

Severus smirked outright at that.

It had been far too long.

Long gone were the glory days of the previous gap between wars when the two would sit and converse – or, rather, Regulus would converse while Severus perused his books – over firewhiskey and rumours of the Dark Lord's return.

Of course, there were still rumours though both knew they were not 'rumours' anymore. They were truths. They were still as doomed as ever. Some things never change.

At least the first time round, he'd had Severus to commiserate joyously with. This time, they were on their own; Severus living out the lie and Regulus still, pretty much, in hiding.

Of all the people lost, Severus was the one he missed the most.

Of course, if Severus were here it was no social call. Something was either wrong or he needed his help, but neither seemed all that inclined to get right down to business.

Like he said, it had been too long, and Regulus said as much.

"Obviously," Severus conceded, eyeing the more-than-a-little disorderly room; books, quills and parchments lay scattered here, there and everywhere, along with various day to day bits and pieces. Kreacher had never been a particularly fastidious house elf, which, much to Severus' annoyance when they lived together, Regulus had never fussed much over - that wasn't why he kept him around, after all - though apparently, it seemed the house elf and himself had simply let the dwellings go in light of the fact that he was here, alone, now with very few opportunities at receiving visitors.

Only those that he both trusted and who knew his secret keeper.

Regulus rolled his eyes, flicking his wand and the mess was instantly rectified.

"Was that so hard?" Severus remarked.

"Not at all, your Grace."

"Where have you been?"

"Have you been worried sick?"

Severus snickered, shaking his head, and that was all it took for Regulus to finally laugh outright and step towards him, throwing an arm around him in a hug.

"Let me get out the firewhiskey. I've been saving it."

"For what?"

"For this most special occasion, of course."

"You're so full of it, Regulus. But no, thank you, I can't stay."

"It's been over a year and you're rushing off? Is that what we've come to?"

It was said in jest but it made Severus pause, meeting his eyes. And then he smiled, no longer wry or smirking, and rolled his eyes; "Very well."

Regulus accioed the bottle, already open, as he really was only joking before. What else did he have to do other than indulge in a glass of his own on the nights he wasn't quite up to risking capture in the local bars or when the trail of the Horcruxes ran dry, after all.

It had been a lonely sixteen months since Malachi had finally escaped this prison and headed off to Hogwarts. Yet he couldn't quite long for the summer, when his son would be expelled back to the joys of these four walls once more; he knew his son was happy and thriving now, finally able to experience what life should be like, if he could only be free.

Regulus handed over a full glass to Severus, both taking seats in the armchairs, and the familiarity of it all was almost too much. He didn't feel sadden by it though, if anything, he felt giddy.

Successfully mission, sex and best buddy all in one day.

He had surely been good in his past life, at least.

"How's Malachi settling? Have there been any other issues? What with -"

"He's fine. Don't worry about him."

"I'm not worried. You're there."

"The great protector of unruly youths, that is me."

There was a slight bite to the statement but Regulus only grinned.

"There's always room for you at the Foundation."

"He wouldn't have it."

"The Dark Lord? Or Dumbledore?"

"Both, I imagine. And it is hardly conductive to maintaining cover."

"I'm sure you'd come up with a good enough excuse to save your skin, lest you lose your sanity in that place. You managed to disown me quite impressively with your smooth talking before."

"Things are different now. People are watching."

It was true.

Everything was different this time. The Death Eaters knew better, now, than to assume it was over. None of them dared believe that the Dark Lord had been defeated. And all had learned from their mistakes, none more so than those whom had opted to deny their loyalty in order to escape Azkaban the first time around.

Not a single Death Eater offered up names of others in exchange for clemency.

If you were accused, you went to Azkaban, where you bided your time until the Dark Lord came for you.

The only other choice was to run and wait in exile before the Aurors could come for you, thereby admitting guilt and being hunted by the Aurors in the meantime.

Only a handful of Death Eaters had done so.

A handful was enough.

It was those whom Regulus and Severus had to be wary of.

There was much to say but neither spoke it. Regulus daren't ask about Lily, or Grace, because though it was perfectly obvious whom the little girl's father was and though Severus knew that Regulus knew the truth, neither of them ever voiced it out loud. It was too dangerous, to have the words spoken, should Regulus eventually fall into the Dark Lord's grasp.

It was dangerous enough, Severus coming here at all, the thought enough to pique Regulus' curiosity.

"Has something happened?"

"Yes." Severus placed his empty glass on the table; "There has been a mass escape from Azkaban."

Regulus frowned. This wasn't news. That had happened months ago; "Wasn't that the reason for the dementors being stationed at Hogwarts?"

"A source has revealed the names of the escaped inmates. Dumbledore told me tonight, Lucius is one of them."

Regulus drew in a slow breath, averting his eyes, as he thought on the information.

Lucius was family. But he was no friend of his.

"So?"

"Has Narcissa said anything to you?"

"No. We're not exactly on speaking terms."

"She told me she invited you for Christmas."

"No doubt at Lucius' request."

Regulus stood at that, realising the probable reason for the outreach. A trap.

Severus shrugged; "I admit I was surprised at the invitation. I thought, perhaps, you had reconciled since we'd last spoken."

Of course, Severus still spent his Christmases at the Manor. It wasn't as if he could spend them at home. Regulus resisted the urge to ask about them, Narcissa and Draco, considering the new information. Had the Malfoys come up only ten seconds before he wouldn't have hesitated.

Severus had told him what Narcissa had done, that it was his cousin who had seen to it that Severus knew that Lucius had found him. That it was Lucius who had sent the Dark Lord after Sirius.

His cousin's husband had signed both his and his brother's death sentence.

Narcissa had been willing, that night, to betray her husband to save him.

And, now, it seemed she was willing to lure Regulus to the Manor under the guise of family to sell him off to a pack of escaped Death Eaters.

"She seemed sincere, Regulus," Severus interrupted his thoughts, acutely aware of where Regulus' thoughts had turned; "I doubt she has been in touch with him. Lucius wouldn't come to her. It wouldn't be safe for either Narcissa or Draco to know his whereabouts. And he certainly wouldn't involve her in any Death Eater activities. She may be entirely unaware he has escaped at all."

It was absurd to be hurt in any case, even if she had decided to turn him over. Regulus had done far worse, after all. Her sister and his brother were both dead and the blame for both deaths could be placed entirely at his feet; maybe, with Sirius' death, she had simply had enough.

But Severus spoke sense.

Lucius was guilty of many things but one couldn't accuse him of ever not putting his wife and son first. Unless the Dark Lord, himself, had somehow gotten to him, there was nothing that could convince him to bring Narcissa into all of this.

Regulus sighed, unable to help himself; he still cared; "How is she?"

"Different."

"How so?"

Severus lifted a palm, his eyes belying his own concern for his cousin; "Nothing other than what you'd expect of someone who has lost it all."

Regulus sighed, part of him wishing he had accepted the invitation at Christmas. After all, what did he have to lose at this point. Malachi was safe at Hogwarts, under the protection of Dumbledore and Severus, and Lily knew just as much as he did about the hunt for the Horcruxes. If it were a trap, at least he'd have had good company and a nice meal before it'd all be over.

Except, it wouldn't be over.

Even if he were to go, the war went on.

And that was the part that kept him going.

Regulus was more determined than ever, with Sirius' death, to see this thing through to the end. Maybe he couldn't right the wrongs of his past, maybe all that the Foundation had been built to do would never measure up, but he would be there, he would be fighting, until the Dark Lord fell at last.

Then it could be over.

After all that had happened, all that had been lost, death was more than he deserved. It was too easy. There was still more that he could do to end this.

And he wouldn't allow himself to rest until he did.

"You certainly know how to throw a party, Regulus," Severus remarked, interrupting his thoughts, and Regulus noticed him refilling their glasses once more.

Regulus grinned then, taking the offered glass and raising it in Severus' direction; "Just been waiting for my partner in crime."

Severus offer a grin of his own in turn, clinking his own glass dutifully to his, and it was good and right and so, unbelievably, home that Regulus couldn't help but feel all the tension he had carried for the past six years leave him.

And for a few hours, the two of them pretended it was ten years earlier, 1984, and it was the two of them against the world and they were just rich and famous and a little bit happy with the life they had built before it had all come tumbling down.

* * *

Grace's father.

Harry had never really given him much thought.

Whoever the man was, he was a deadbeat. Harry had never heard so much as a peep from him. His mum may as well have immaculately conceived his sister.

In fact, he would much prefer to believe that was the case.

He certainly didn't believe the rumours when Ron had come to him, earlier in the year, saying that Mr and Mrs Weasley were under the impression that it was his Uncle Remus. That everyone knew that it was Remus.

But that was impossible.

Pretty much every summer since Harry had started at Hogwarts his little sister would inundate him with made-up stories about what she and her non-existent father had been up to while he was gone. His mum had simply laughed it off and Remus just shrugged and told him that he'd had quite an imagination of his own when he was her age too. It was better to just humour her.

No way would their Uncle Remus not claim her as his own if he was the man she was talking about.

And Grace, well, why wouldn't she just refer to him as her dad when they were all together? He was already the only 'dad' figure either of them knew – now that Uncle Sirius was gone – and denying it was nonsensical unless his mum had sworn him to secrecy for some reason.

And it was that which gave him pause.

Because, for the first time in years, he had wondered.

His sister had a crazy imagination at the best of times, and was a real drama-queen to boot, but at Christmas she had something, a wishing stone, and she was claiming that her 'Daddy' had given it to her. Here, for the first time, she was actually showing him 'proof' that the man had been there.

Sure, it could have just been a rock that she'd found herself and decided that this was the story behind it, but she treasured that little thing every day that Harry was home until he finally couldn't help but ask his mum about it again.

Even then, Harry didn't really believe Grace. He'd already thought of all the reasons that it couldn't be true. But after the way his mum had reacted, suddenly everything seemed far less sure.

His mum was cagey, obviously uncomfortable with the subject, which probably could have been explained away by the fact that she had been done over by this guy. But when Harry came right out and asked her if it was Remus she suddenly started acting weird. For a second, Harry thought she was actually going to say yes.

Harry had retreated quickly, feeling sick, and left for Hogwarts wondering if he even wanted to know.

He adored his Uncle Remus. But this would change things. Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to look him in the eye again if it were true. His mum deserved better. Grace deserved better.

Remus was better than that.

Harry didn't want to know. That's why it took him almost a month after he started thinking it before he decided to go to Remus himself. Because, awful as it would be, Harry had to know if it were true.

Remus looked just as uncomfortable as his mum had done when he finally did, cornering him at his desk after one of their extra defence sessions.

"What? Who told you that?"

"Does it matter? If it's the truth–"

"It's not."

"Right. Then why are you acting weird about it?"

"I'm not. Harry, if I was Grace's father, don't you think – I mean, I've been there this whole time. Don't you think you would know? Why would I hide it?"

"I don't know," Harry refused to concede, although he'd been wondering the very same thing himself; "Maybe Mum didn't want you to say anything."

"Why wouldn't she?"

"I don't know. But she obviously told the other guy to stay away."

"Now, we don't – we shouldn't assume…we don't know what happened there."

"But, like you said, you've been there. You're Mum's best friend."

Remus shook his head, and Harry didn't miss the way he averted his eyes as he did; "She's never told me who Grace's father is."

"So, what, Mum just turned up pregnant one day and you didn't think to ask?"

Averted eyes were suddenly back on him and Harry felt himself shrink slightly at the disapproval there.

"Don't forget who you're talking to."

Harry backed down, if only a little; "Sorry."

Remus placed a hand to his forehead, giving a sigh before he went on; "Look. Even if your Mum did tell Grace's father to stay away…She wouldn't do that unless there was a good reason for it."

"A good reason? Like what?"

"Life is complicated, there could be a number of them. Or it could simply be the case that the man in question was unable to…"

"Take responsibility?"

"Something like that."

Harry looked at him carefully; "You're talking like you know him."

"Like I said, your Mum and I have never talked about it," Remus said, as he messed about straightening some already-perfectly-neat parchments on his desk; "This is all just guessing. Dangerous, really, because we'll probably never know what happened."

"Grace keeps talking about him," Harry remarked, needlessly, as Remus already knew that, but the statement sparked an uneasy thought in his mind; "What if he has contacted her? What if she's seen him and Mum doesn't realise?"

Remus chuckled; "That would never happen. Your Mum watches you two like a hawk."

Harry smiled, then, finally feeling somewhat at ease for the first time since the suggestion that it could have been Remus had taken root.

It really was ridiculous. Obviously, it wasn't Remus. He could have figured that out himself. He did figure it out himself, all the reasons it couldn't be true.

He felt silly for even asking.

Remus smiled in turn, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder; "Harry, whatever your Mum does she always has your best interests at heart. Yours and Grace's. If she doesn't want us to know, well, we just have to accept that. It's not like you're all unhappy, is it?"

"No. Not at all."

Remus nodded, giving his shoulder a pat and then, with a nod at the classroom door, a reluctant dismissal; "Professor Dumbledore has asked that I stop by his office after our session. You know where to find me, though. Later, if you need to."

"Nah, that's okay."

Remus smiled again, relief evident in his expression that he'd managed to dispel Harry's doubts.

Harry reached for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder; "I gotta go, too. Detention. Snape."

For a second, Harry thought he saw Remus flinch as he turned away and when he looked at him to check his uncle was gathering up the parchments and avoiding his eyes. Harry couldn't really tell what the furrow on his brow meant but he guessed it was disappointment, or disapproval, and he instantly felt the need to defend himself.

"Nothing new. Snape hands out detentions like –"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Remus interrupted him, before he turned and placed another hand on his shoulder and giving him a tight smile; "And you wouldn't want to keep him waiting, or you may find yourself with another to make up for it."

"Don't need to, he'd find a reason to get me down there either way," Harry stated; "I'll see you later, Uncle Remus."

Remus only nodded, looking thoughtful, before he went on; "Just trust her, Harry. Your Mum."

He did.

Of course he trusted his mum. That wasn't what the problem was. Harry knew all of this, that everything she did was for them. That she would always put them first. That wasn't what he was asking.

Harry paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder and meeting Remus' questioning gaze.

But the relief was still there, in his Uncle's eyes. Relief that'd he'd somehow managed to get through the questions, the conversation at all. As if he had something to hide.

Sure, it was pretty obvious that Grace's father couldn't be Remus.

But someone had to be. And Remus had just spent the last few minutes trying to convince Harry that it didn't matter who.

"You know who he is." It wasn't a question this time. Harry knew it. He was sure. Even if Remus refused to admit it.

The relief was gone with Harry's statement, but there wasn't a look of guilt or culpability in his eyes; no, instead, his uncle just looked exasperated by the persistence.

But Harry wouldn't let that stop him. Even if he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere now, he wasn't letting Remus off the hook.

"Don't you?" Harry challenged him.

This time, his uncle didn't deny it.

Instead, Remus just sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Just let it go, Harry."

It was as close to 'yes' as he was going to get.

* * *

Potter was in a particularly sour mood that evening.

But then, Severus was not in a much better one himself.

News of Lucius' escape weighed heavily on his mind. It was not, only, that the man had been a friend. Technically, he still was, and it would be impossible for him to play it otherwise when the two came face to face once more. There could be no overt animosity from him over the way Lucius had handled the situation with Regulus. And, really, it shouldn't have been a surprise. The Dark Lord had assigned him with the search and retrieval of Regulus Black, a known traitor, and there was no way Lucius would give his life up for his wife's cousin. For anyone, in fact.

But the wound ran deep.

Had things played out differently that night, Regulus could have perished at the Dark Lord's hands. The wrong Black brother, if he did say so himself, though always silently. Neither Lily nor Regulus would hear a bad word said about Sirius Black, now.

It was small comfort that Narcissa's intervention – and betrayal – while not exactly the reason Regulus was spared, at least led to the arrest and imprisonment of her husband by the waiting aurors when everything eventually went down.

Just deserts and all that.

He wondered if he ought to ask Narcissa himself if she had heard from him – he doubted Lucius knew what she had done – but, to do so, would signal a desire on Severus' part to seek them out and he would then be put in the situation of having to explain why he did not, then, join them or attempt to communicate to receive further instructions.

Doing nothing, though, was the more frustrating option.

Severus was tired of waiting.

But, then, he also didn't want it all to begin.

His thoughts made no sense.

The pounding in his temples was doing nothing to help rationalise them, the pain-relieving potions he had taken earlier beginning to wear off.

He really was too old, now, to stay up drinking firewhiskey all night with Regulus. He may only be in his thirties, but these wars had aged him decades.

The furious, unnecessarily noisy, swiping of turning pages drew Severus from his thoughts.

From this angle, Harry Potter looked exactly like his father. That same messy turf of black hair, the edge of his glasses catching the light, jawline that was changing and angling further each year to make the resemblance even more uncanny. A jaw that was set with tense agitation that could only mean the boy was thinking heatedly about something – and that something certainly wasn't anything he was looking at in the volume in front of him.

Even Severus had to admit that it wasn't all that interesting.

Just necessary.

Yes, Potter was in a mood, that much was obvious. He had skulked into the room at exactly seven o' clock, barely glanced in Severus' direction and took his place at the same desk, with the same book that had been left out for him at every detention he had been called into for the past month.

He had been huffing and puffing and flicking the pages aside with disinterest ever since and it was a wonder his quill hadn't snapped under the force of his writing.

Of course, after a month, the boy must have finished the book by now, but there was no harm in a second – or even third – reading.

If the book survived the onslaught, that is.

"Potter."

The boy snapped to attention. Startled green eyes were suddenly upon him and it was impossiblefor Severus not to pause.

It was impossible for him not to see Lily.

Snap out of it.

"If you're in need of burning off some energy then there's a perfectly disgusting pile of cauldrons in the back in need of tending to. Otherwise, please refrain from damaging my property."

He expected a huff, a puff, and then a – hopefully silent – continuation of writing but, instead, Potter thought for a moment and then pushed back off the stool with a screech that went right through him and headed in the direction of the cleaning supplies.

Brilliant.

The classroom was suddenly brought to life with the sounds of clattering cauldrons, scraping scourers and running water, Potter getting to work with the same furious energy that he had been directing towards the book.

Let him be.

Obviously the boy needed to let off some steam. Frankly, it was better he did so here, in the safety of the classroom – and under Severus' watchful eye – lest he continue to search for another outlet once detention had concluded and Severus found himself summoned from his bed once again to deal with it.

Severus couldn't help but look, but watch. He never could. It was impossible not to see who and where the boy had come from, James Potter's double but with Lily's eyes, and it was difficult to play the game, sometimes, when he failed to shut himself off from it.

It would have always had to be this way, even if not for Lily.

Like he had warned Regulus the night before; people were watching. He was more than a little aware of the fact. Even the pupils of Hogwarts couldn't be trusted; they were the eyes and ears of their parents within these walls and Severus had never quite managed to get himself back up there, the top of the circle, after Regulus' betrayal had been revealed.

Even the slightest sniff that he had the trust of Harry Potter, that he had access to him, would put everything in jeopardy. Malachi he could get away with; Severus' place within the walls of Hogwarts would not be sacrificed just to get their hands upon a traitor's son. It didn't measure up to his usefulness there.

But Harry Potter? That just might.

Still, that didn't make it any easier. Particularly when Lily was less than pleased by her son's report of their first class together.

"Do you have to be so hard on him?" She'd brought it up almost immediately after Grace had gone to bed, his first visit home after her son's arrival at Hogwarts.

"You know I have to keep him at distance."

"Not like that. You ridiculed him. I won't have that, Severus."

Well. That was him told.

Perhaps not something to be proud of, but mockery and sarcasm came easily to him. Hell, the entire foundation of his and Regulus' friendship was based upon it. Or had been, at least, in the beginning. But, with that option out the window, Severus would have to play it all differently.

And so, silence was the only alternative, because kindness was not an option and even to 'go easy on him', as Lily implied, was not possible as he had always been hard on all of his students. They did not come to this school to be coddled and have their noses wiped. Distasteful as the thought may be, they were the next generation of fighters in the war effort and if they couldn't handle the pressures of a secondary education then they would crumble like leaves in the Autumn when they came face to face with the world.

The boy continued working vigorously on the cauldrons, with a focus and determination in his actions that Severus could only dream the boy would put into his schoolwork.

Whatever had maddened him, the muggle-inspired punishment seemed to be an almost therapeutic outlet.

Just like Lily, Severus realised with a start.

She always did that. Whenever she was furious or upset, she took out her frustrations on the unsuspecting dishes and carpets and windows, the house sparkling from top to bottom by the time she was done in a way that even magic did not accomplish.

Whenever the house seemed particularly cleaner than usual, Severus often joked and asked what had happened to aggravate her.

Of course, it was not as if Severus never noticed Lily in him. He was not all James Potter – or Sirius Black, as even those mannerisms sometimes, unfortunately, came through – Severus could see that. That nonsense the previous year with the Chamber of Secrets; throwing oneself into dangerous situations without regard for the consequences to try to save a friend?

That was all Lily.

And now, because he had allowed himself the moment of weakness, he could only see Lily as he observed the boy. Sometimes the way he talked and smiled – at others – would evoke it. His laughter in the classrooms and in the halls did not quite hold that same cocky, infuriating arrogance that his father had displayed as a child. When Potter laughed, he meant it.

He could see Lily, then.

Potter scrubbed at one of the cauldrons, distracted now, the edge of his anger seeming to have been taken away and he dropped the scourer he was using. He lifted a hand, a dramatic show of exasperation, and reached for it with a roll of his eyes.

And that, that, was Grace right there.

The over-dramatics.

Severus could handle seeing Lily and James Potter in him. But when he saw his daughter in Harry Potter's actions, it always, always, hit him like a punch in the gut. Because, in those moments, Severus just couldn't push aside the fact that this boy was family.

"Potter."

Without thinking about the what or why, he indicated the chair opposite him on the other side of the desk.

The boy's brow furrowed, evidently confused, but he did as was asked and approached, taking the seat opposite him with obvious wariness and the bewilderment on his face was enough to snap Severus out of his weakness.

Too late, obviously, as he now needed to think up a reason to call the boy before him. Quickly.

Familiar, too familiar, green eyes watched and waited.

Severus didn't speak to Potter as a rule – a self-imposed one, yes, but a rule nonetheless. And this was why. The were absolutely nothing he could possibly have to say while maintaining the lie.

Seeing his family – perhaps he just missed them too much because, Merlin, he did and it was almost crippling him that he hadn't seen them properly since well before Christmas – seeing them in him made him reach out.

Foolishly.

He grasped at the only thing the two of them had in common.

That the boy knew about, of course.

"Do you have any questions?"

Potter only looked back at him with confusion, seeming as thrown by the summons to his desk as Severus was.

"Regarding the volume you have been writing from," he elaborated. He supposed he really ought to offer this service now and again, as a Professor of Hogwarts, if nothing else. After all, if the boy really was called up to fight, then the information Severus had been presenting him with at his detentions was essential.

"Oh." Potter still looked thrown; "Uh. No. No, Sir."

"None at all?" That was highly doubtful, even Severus himself had had to do some additional reading when he had first accessed the textbook; "It is a rather dense work."

"I didn't think…I mean I didn't…"

Potter looked nervous, as well as confused now, and it didn't take Severus long to realise why.

Surely not?

"Mr Potter. Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you trying to tell me that in all this time that you have been writing from these books that you have not actually been reading the text?"

"I didn't think I was supposed to."

"And what do you believe are the purpose of books?"

Potter seemed to shrink in his seat but even then, there was a defiance in his expression that told Severus that the boy before him just didn't get it. This whole time, he thought Severus was just throwing textbooks at him for the jollies of watching him suffer while his friends were off out gallivanting, probably cursing the world that he couldn't join in.

Of course, Potter decided not to leave it at that. There had to be a little impertinence. He was raised by Sirius Black, after all.

"I didn't think there was going to be a test."

Unbelievable.

Suddenly, Severus no longer saw Lily, or Grace, or even James-Bloody-Potter. No, in that moment, he saw only thirteen-year-old Harry Potter. A child. A naïve, foolish child who was soon to be hunted by the most powerful Dark Wizard the world had ever known.

And he didn't stand a chance.

"Very well," Severus managed to grit out past his outrage; "Very well. If assessment is what is required to get information into that…" He paused, reigning himself in and drew a breath; "If a test is what you seek, Mr Potter, then you are in luck. Two rolls of parchment on my desk by Friday morning on the uses and practices of occlumency."

"What?" Potter was outraged in turn; "We're in detention, you can't –"

"I can and I have. Should you wish to contest the assignment, I suggest you take it up with the Headmaster."

Green eyes, Lily's eyes, glared back at him with the full force of the boy's loathing but Severus wouldn't allow himself to look away.

The boy's failings here were his own too.

It had been Severus' responsibility to prepare him.

He would not make the same mistake again. From now on, he would have to add 'quizzes' to his ever-growing daily task list.

But needs must.

"Consider that a dismissal, Mr Potter."

The boy left the room even more furious than when he had entered it.


	40. March 1994: Prophet

Remus didn't want to know.

He had never wanted to know.

It wasn't only the fact it was none of his business that stopped him from confronting Lily, years ago, when it was clear where things with Snape were headed. Remus had seen the writing on the wall, even then. The entire circumstance would be nothing short of a disaster; Sirius finding out and his reaction, the three of them blown apart in the aftermath.

The worst of it all, though, was that it still wasn't over. Almost seven years on from his first realisation at Harry's birthday party and here he was, drawn into the secrecy and lying to the boy who trusted him, explicitly, and who knew the was no reason at all that Remus would lie to him.

And now that Harry knew he _was_ keeping something from him, it could only mean one thing; the boy would be driving himself crazy wondering why.

"Remus, what is it? Is it Harry?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

It took a few weeks for Remus to finally broach the subject with Lily. With no little degree of nervousness about it, at that. There was an unspoken agreement between them – they did not speak about Grace's paternity, ever – and Remus almost felt as if he were breaking a pact by doing so now. Even if it was for Harry.

It wasn't the first time Remus had considered it. Upon learning of Lily's pregnancy his first thoughts had been about Harry and what it would mean but he held back then, telling himself that it didn't matter what he said or what advice he offered. Lily would do as she wished and was it really worth putting his own friendship with her on the line to voice the obvious? She had disregarded his concerns before, the first time, when he had pleaded with her to open her eyes and see the bigger picture and he doubted she would listen to him then, when Snape had clearly become such an important part of her life.

The father of her child.

But the silence could go on no longer. The _secrecy_ could go on no longer.

Somehow, Remus had found himself wrapped up in Lily and Snape's mess; lying, covering, denying, turning a blind eye to it all. More than once had Dumbledore come across him in the hallways past curfew that year, asking if he had seen Snape anywhere in the castle, and he had mumbled out excuses on the other Professor's behalf about 'headaches', 'marking that needed to be done' and 'ingredients to be collected from the grounds'.

All dragonshit. And Remus was certain Dumbledore knew as much but he humoured him and carried on, asking nothing more.

And now Harry.

It was just a matter of time, now that he was asking questions, before it all blew up in their faces. Again.

Remus could bury his head in sand no more.

He knew what was coming.

Their entire relationship, whatever Harry felt or called him by, it was all built on trust. Harry trusted Remus blindly, unquestionably, and it killed Remus to realise, now, that he couldn't. That he could very well lose Harry over this, if something wasn't done to limit the fall out.

Remus sighed, heading past Lily towards the table; "It's not just Harry, it's…" He broke off, still unsure how to begin.

Lily took pity on him, realising immediately what it was, and followed. Drew up the chair beside him and sat down but they were silent for a moment, neither at all keen to finally have the conversation that they had always known they would have to at some point.

And this was the easy one!

"He asked me too," Lily finally said.

"If it was me?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"Obviously I said no, Remus."

Obviously.

Remus refrained from pointing out that she hadn't denied it to everyone else. Not exactly a flattering thought, that those who knew them even believed he would do that. Get his best friend's wife pregnant and then ditch her.

"He's asking questions. I tried to divert him but it didn't work. It just made him realise there must be a reason why. Now he knows that I know and that there's a secret there."

"You're overthinking this, Remus. He's just curious, it's no surprise that he wants to know more about Grace's father –"

"It's more than that. You know it is. Harry might not, but we do. We're lying to him."

Lily frowned, brushing her hair back from her face as she thought on what he was saying, before she looked at him with that same determination that was all so familiar to him and only meant he wasn't going to get anywhere; "You know why I haven't told him, right?"

"Sure."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I get why you _didn't._ He was a kid. Kid's slip up; look at Grace. But Harry's not a little boy anymore, he gets it. He _thinks_. And if he finds out, himself, who Grace's father is there's no going back from that. He'd never forgive us for it."

"He won't find out until he's old enough to understand why we never told him."

"He knows Snape, Lily. He knows him and I don't think you're so in the dark about what's going on at Hogwarts to not know how Harry feels about him. I'm guessing that's all part of the lie, right? Keep Harry at distance, treat him like crap –"

"He doesn't do that."

"He singles him out. Punishes him for nothing. I can count on one had the amount of times Harry _didn't_ have some sort of detention this past fortnight. Why? To keep him close? To keep him away?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Remus hesitated.

"It's better that you don't. You know that. I…I'm sorry you got caught up in all of this, Remus. But - it's just better than you don't."

"But I _do_ know, Lily. I've known for years and the _lies,_ Merlin! How can you live like this? Isn't it driving you crazy?"

"You get used to it. It's not as bad as it sounds, Harry's never questioned it before –"

"What about Grace? She talks about it, about Snape all the time."

"Yes, he's her father."

"You let him come here? You play house, make a family with him, and Harry doesn't know about it?"

"He's part of it."

"He's not. He's not and he won't see that any differently when he does find out. You think he's going to take this lightly? That you've had the whole other life that he wasn't part of?"

"That's not how it is, Remus!" Lily finally snapped, standing up and turning away; "Look I couldn't just tell him that Severus is Grace's father. He'd want to know why I kept it from him, why he couldn't tell anyone, and then I'd have to tell him everything. I'd have to tell him about the Death Eaters, about what Severus was and what he is now, and I'd have to tell him about _him._ I'd have to tell him that Voldemort is coming back for him. He's thirteen years old, I can't tell him that, Remus."

"He's already faced Voldemort three times and survived."

"Barely. And that was only a shadow."

"If Harry knows the stakes, if he knows what he's fighting for – he can keep the secret, Lily, he'd get it."

Lily shook her head, her jaw set; "Who told Voldemort that the prophecy related to Harry?"

Remus paused, meeting her eyes.

"Who?" she repeated.

Remus closed his eyes, lifting a hand to his forehead; "Sirius."

Lily nodded; "That monster went into his head and he took it from him. It didn't matter that Sirius wouldn't have breathed a word of it, it didn't matter that he would have died for him a thousand times over."

"Lily –"

"Harry has faced Voldemort three times already, you said it yourself, what if he looked inside his head? What if he saw it? They'd come for Grace. They'd go for Severus. We'd lose our spy, our only spy in that Circle, and we'd be sending Harry in blind. Voldemort would still come for him and we'd have no idea how or when. Harry will get that."

"He –"

"It's war, Remus. Voldemort may be gone but it's only temporary. We're still at war."

"Harry needs to know he has people he can trust. If what the prophecy says is true, if he's going to have to face him again – you know Harry won't stand back, not now, not after what's happened since Sirius died – Harry's going to need us. He needs to know he can trust us, more than he needs a spy within Voldemort's ranks."

"You think Severus should walk away? Defect?"

"Yes."

"That's insane, Remus. Have you seen Regulus Black? Malachi, unable to step out of his own house without fear for his life? We couldn't do that to Grace."

There was the rub. There was more than just Harry to think about here; there was that little girl, too.

And Remus loved Severus Snape's daughter just as much as he did James Potter's son.

"We could protect her. The house is already under Fidelius protection."

"We couldn't. It's not just Voldemort that Regulus is running from."

"Hopkins is in the States. The amnesty protection is only valid as long as he is serving them, he's not going to throw his pardon away to come back here."

"You don't know that. The man burned a house down when Malachi was still inside it. His mother was killed. He murdered his own colleagues, all a quest for vengeance against Regulus Black and the Death Eaters. He knew Severus, too, he won't let that slide."

"You don't know what he'd do."

"Either do you!"

Remus knew he wasn't getting anywhere with this. At this point, he wasn't even sure he wanted to. What Lily was saying held merit but still; "There's more than one way to lose a person, Lily."

The statement took the fight out of her. Of course it did. Remus meant what he said to Harry the previous month, it was true; everything Lily did, she did for her children. To protect them. Only now, the choices that had to be made to do so were not so easy, not so sure.

Remus sighed, standing up; "Look, I get it. I do. It's…it's your choice." Lily didn't look comforted by his admittance of defeat in the slightest; "I just thought it was time. We had to talk about it."

"I know."

"I have to go. Dumbledore."

"Right."

"Just…just think about it, though, okay?"

"You think I wouldn't?"

"No, that's not…look, I'd be there, alright? If you wanted me to. If you decided he was ready."

Lily's eye softened, if only slightly; "I know."

Remus gave a smile in turn, brushing her arm on his way past; a small comfort but what more could he do, now that he'd finally shattered the silent pact the two of them had maintained for so long.

"Thanks, Remus."

Remus knew better than to believe that gratitude was the prevailing emotion directed towards him as he left the house.

* * *

Blood traitor.

Malachi was used to it.

He was used to it, sure, but it still brought about feelings of shame, of unworthiness, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He knew that it only meant he was friends with muggleborns, with half-bloods. Harry was a half-blood. Malachi wasn't ashamed to be his friend.

Harry was the only person who got it, the life he had to lead.

He was the only person who didn't think it was weird that there was always a professor nearby, pretending their patrol just happened to bring them to the exact location Malachi was spending his time whenever they were out of school grounds such as the Forbidden Forest or during Hogsmeade visits.

Harry didn't think it was weird that Malachi couldn't speak of where his home was located – the Fidelius charm preventing it – as Harry was under the same spell.

Still, Harry had it easier.

Malachi hated that he had been sorted into Slytherin if only because his own housemates were far less accommodating of his circumstances than the Gryffindors were to Harry.

Within the Gryffindor House, Harry was hailed as a hero, a legend.

Within his own, Malachi was deemed a traitor.

His dad defied Voldemort outright by creating the Foundation. By continuing to maintain it now that he was gone.

Sometimes, Malachi wished his dad would just let it fall. Or give it away. Surely Severus – Professor Snape - would be happy to take it on. He never seemed like he was happy in his job, here, at Hogwarts.

"Mr Black."

The voice of the professor in question suddenly sounded behind him.

"Professor Snape," he responded with a jump, looking over his shoulder at where the man had appeared behind him in the Great Hall.

The professor's eyes weren't directed towards him, however. Instead, they were focused on the words that had been enchanted onto the pages of his textbook.

Blood traitor.

Malachi quickly snapped it shut.

His Head of House met his eyes then, looking at him with guarded concern and Malachi thought he could see sympathy in the man's eyes too.

It only made Malachi feel worse. The pity.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Is there…perhaps you would like to come to my office?"

"Oh. Um…"

Within minutes there he was, back down in the dungeons, face to face with his Godfather, who seemed to have dropped the stern Professor act now that we were alone.

"Is there something you'd like to discuss?"

"No. It's fine."

"I had hoped that after our last discussion you would have realised you could come here with any issues or concerns that may arise. Particularly with regards to your housemates."

"It wouldn't matter."

"What was that?"

"They wouldn't stop. So why bother?"

"Because I will not tolerate victimisation within my House, as I have repeatedly made clear during our assemblies."

Malachi shook his head. He didn't want it, to be either Severus' charity case or his example. This was his life and he wanted nothing more than to simply get through the day unscathed.

The only Slytherin who didn't look down their nose at him was Draco and that was because they were family. Even then his cousin tended to keep his distance, only offering kindness when the older boy was certain they were alone.

"Malachi –"

"It's okay, Professor. Really. I'm fine. It's just a prank."

Severus' jaw set at that, an uneasy silence seeming to come between them in light of the statement and Malachi wasn't entirely sure what he had said to offend him but he knew, instinctively, that it was the wrong thing to say.

"As your Head of House, and your _Godfather_ , I insist that you come to me the next time you experience any other 'pranks' from your housemates. Or, indeed, from any student within this school."

"Okay."

"I can't help but doubt your sincerity."

Malachi only shrugged, glancing around the room, mortified and praying that no one would see him leaving the office. If anyone thought he'd been in there actually _saying_ something to his Head of House then there'd be hell to pay.

"I'll tell you."

There was only the slightest of nods, a tilt more than anything, that indicated both acceptance and dismissal. But just as he was standing from the chair to leave, he was startled when Severus reached out, stopping him with a barely felt touch to the arm.

"Malachi. Do not simply endure this and brush it aside. You don't have to."

There was a sincerity in his Godfather's eyes that surprised him, the man was always so stoic, but Malachi supposed that was to be expected. He was responsible for him, here, after all.

Malachi only nodded before he headed from the room, knowing that he would never take Severus up on the offer of help because, really, what did a Professor understand about the intricacies of Hogwarts House politics?

* * *

"Lupin ought to mind his own business."

Brilliant.

Just another day.

By the time Severus had managed to escape the walls of Hogwarts that evening it was almost nine, well past Grace's bedtime, and he had come home with a mind full of concern and memories of inter house rivalries (or, rather in-house), to a pile of parchments that Regulus still needed his input upon, and Lily, who was agitated following some sort of 'heart to heart' with Remus Lupin.

Really. Severus wished with all his might that the wolf would just _go away._

"He means well."

"Doesn't he have better things to do with his time now that he is employed? I would have thought he'd have finally seen the merits of getting a life of his own."

"Severus."

"Wishful thinking, no doubt."

"He's part of Harry's life."

"Harry," Severus scoffed, not even bothering to look up from the parchments he was studying, as he sat up in bed; "He follows you around like a lovesick puppy. It's pathetic."

He caught the eye roll of Lily's out the corner of his.

"Let's not."

"We're not. I'm merely pointing out the obvious."

"We are and you're not," Lily pulled back the sheets, getting into the bed beside him; "I've told you time and again there's nothing to be worried about."

"I'm not worried."

He wasn't. Worry, and jealousy as he was sure Lily was attributing his assertions to, were not the reasons for his annoyance.

Severus was quite certain that any self-respecting man would have a problem with another imposing himself so brazenly upon his family. In his absence, no less. Lily had given Lupin, and Black before him, far too much rope when it came to his role within their lives and the very fact that he felt it was appropriate or that he had any right to question their parenting choices was proof of that.

Regulus wouldn't dare!

Severus wasn't quite sure when things had changed from it being him, on the outside, stepping into Lily's family – he supposed it had been with the birth of Grace – to Lupin looking in, but that was the way it was and had to be.

Severus would not have it any other way.

Though Severus supposed he'd be lying if he said that the very obvious infatuation Lupin had with Lily didn't add to his irritation.

"Remus knows about us."

Severus smirked, shaking his head, but still didn't look up from his reading; "Like that would stop him."

"He's a friend."

Severus scoffed once more, finally dropping the parchments to his lap; "Don't act naïve, Lily, you'd have to be _blind_ not to notice. Why else would he persist with his constant hovering and interference in our lives?"

"Because he's always been there. Because he cares about Harry. And Grace."

"And you."

"Yes, and me, we're friends."

"The very fact that when you became pregnant everyone within your acquaintance immediately – and still – assumed it was by Lupin should tell you just how obvious it is."

"Gossip? Busybodies? They don't know _us_."

"Well, I do. And I see it plain as the sun in the sky. The wolf is biding his time."

Lily shook her head, looking both exasperated and reluctant when she finally played the winning card; "He was James' best friend."

Severus pursed his lips together.

"He wouldn't," she asserted.

Severus drew in a breath, turning back to the parchments in front of him though he was in no mood for reading now; "Well, far be it for me to question the moral integrity of one of James Potter's cronies."

"Remus isn't the issue here."

Lily put her hand on top of the parchments as she said it, forcing his attention back to her before she went on in earnest; "He thinks Harry's ready. Do you?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

Most definitely not. Severus had still not yet got over his incredulity that the boy had spent the past three years of detentions with him mindlessly rewriting the text from his volumes without any of the information managing to penetrate his skull.

Though a teeny, tiny part of him wondered if Lupin's suggestion did have some merit. Perhaps if the boy _was_ aware of the stakes then he would begin to take Severus' training methods more seriously.

But then, Severus was not willing to bet the safety of his daughter on the possibility.

Severus trusted Regulus with his life and even him knowing the truth made him uneasy. Neither of them had even spoken the truth out loud simply because it was not a matter of trust at all. Regulus, more than anyone, understood that. The Dark Lord had his ways, his methods, that could break past even the most resolute of minds; veritaserum, legilliemency.

When it came to secrecy, magic was not their friend.

Potter had already faced the Dark Lord three times and not always by accident either. Twice Potter had, foolishly, sought him out _by himself_ and with him flaunting his defiance in the dark wizard face before he even had any comprehension or hope of defending himself – he had survived by pure _luck –_ there was no way Severus would place even the tiniest of secrets within the boy's head.

Both he and Lily knew there was no other option in the matter with her son, at least not until he was old enough to understand the risks, and it did little good to spend precious time going over all the same arguments they had already had to death for the past seven years. When Potter was ready, Severus would tell her. Or she him.

Until then, it was business as usual. Family. Strategy. War. Fantasy.

Severus indicated the parchments Lily had given to him, changing the subject.

"This wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because it is not possible for a half blood to call upon the powers of their ancestors and if, somehow, we _could_ do so it is even less possible to harness and control it for any meaningful length of time. Before death, lest we forget the final result."

"That's what Regulus is trying to learn, how to counter it. Or…"

" _Or_ ," Severus repeated, both knowing exactly where Regulus' mind would be going; "Even if Regulus were to somehow take this upon himself, there is no way he would be able to get close enough to the Dark Lord to make use of it."

Lily was silent, offering no counter argument because there wasn't one, both knew it was true. Regulus, if not killed instantly, did not stand a chance if the Dark Lord got his hands upon him.

Severus shook his head, flicking through the parchments, going on; "He will get nowhere with this."

"Voldemort was defeated by blood magic before."

"At what cost? The Longbottoms have been entirely wiped out. And we mustn't forget the brush we, ourselves, had with it when Hopkins attempted to harness the power against Regulus."

"We need something stronger, something bigger than the magic Voldemort knows. Blood magic is the key."

"Blood magic is stronger because of its nature. It is rooted in sacrifice. And neither yourself nor Regulus would be willing to pay that price. Because whatever the use, whatever the reason, the price is _always_ blood."

Lily brushed her hair back from her face, looking both defeated and thoughtful, as if by musing on it further she may come up with a solution to the problem there and then.

Severus gathered up the parchments.

Enough.

They had talked war and strategy and _Lupin_ long enough that night.

He placed them on the side table, reaching for her and she went willingly, laying down in his arms and he held her close.

"We'll find a way," he assured her.

Lily was silent for a moment, turning her head and pressing into his chest, and for a moment Severus thought that was the conversation over for the night. He was just about to reach for his wand, to extinguish the light so they might curl up to sleep, when she drew in a breath and raised her head to meet his eyes and the upset in hers when she did made his stomach sink.

"What if Remus is right, Sev? What if I lose him?"

"Lily. Don't do this to yourself."

She shook her head; "I've already made so many wrong decisions when it comes to him. I've already –"

"Stop."

He tightened his hold on her; "Don't."

"What if he finds out from someone else? What if –"

"What if," Severus repeated, silencing her; "Lily, we both know there is no other way. Lupin knows nothing of it. Everything he thinks he knows is from simple guessing. These are our children. _Ours_."

Lily met his eyes at that, at the earnestness in his assertion.

Slowly, the doubt seemed to fade, if only a little.

And then she smiled and so did he, reaching up to brush the hair back from her face and letting his hand linger there until she leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

Her eyes were warm when she drew back, but not far, turning further onto him and taking his face in her hands; "Mm. I love you."

Severus smiled and leaned in again, kissing her deeper this time, and when she drew back once more he answered; "And I you."

Lily only looked back at him, the depth of her own feelings evident within her eyes and it amazed him how she did it, how she could simply look at him like that and he could know and feel exactly as she had expressed to him in words.

Connected.

Loved.

Severus tightened the arm that was wrapped around her, the fingers in her hair slowly trailing her neck and down her collarbone, and he was rewarded with a coy smile in return that told him that the night was surely looking up.

He leaned in, fingers replaced by his lips to taste, and the hands in his hair tightened, her head dipped back, and the only sound that followed was a quiet but all-too-erotic sigh that couldn't help but make his heart beat fast.

And he knew that, despite it all, nothing could ever feel more right.

* * *

Harry stared into the Mirror of Erised.

His Uncle Sirius stood behind him, smiling with that proud, beaming smile that Harry never thought he'd see again.

It was a memory of a fantasy. Something Harry would only ever see in dreams.

The vision faded to black.

Suddenly, he was moving swiftly through the darkness. There was a low, recurring _'hiss'_ that filled the air that he vaguely identified as coming from himself.

He was hungry. Hunting. But more than that, he was determined and furious, heart racing as he picked up the pace.

Everything was passing in a blur as he moved.

Faster.

Faster.

Harry woke with a gasp.

It took a moment for him to gather his bearings, breathing unsteady and his heart thudding in his chest as his eyes darted the room from where he was, sitting up in bed in his dorm room. He was the only one awake. He could take some small comfort from that fact, at least, as he felt himself begin to calm down, surrounded by the peacefully sleeping faces of his dormmates.

The nightmares were getting worse.

They were incessant, this already being the second that week and it was only Wednesday, and he always woke in the same state; shaking, sweating, heart racing as his mind attempted to make sense of what he had seen, reassuring himself that, however real it all felt, it was only a dream.

This night, though, his scar was burning. It was the first time in his life it had ever bothered him and he clutched at it, helplessly, doing his best not to make a sound in case someone _was_ woken by the commotion. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to them that he'd had another nightmare.

It was both unnerving and embarrassing. He felt like a child. His dormmates had even teased him that they could leave the light on that night for him if he wanted, which he'd laughed off as it was all in good humour, but he wondered if maybe that would help. He wasn't afraid of the _dark,_ no, but visions and _feelings_ of such intense – he could think of no other word to describe it but – evil were more than enough to unsettle him.

He went to bed each night anxious what he would be seeing next.

Harry was embarrassed to realise that, in that moment, he really wanted his mum.

He was almost fourteen and he was being bothered by nightmares. It was silly.

The pain in his scar subsided and slowly, Harry began to relax, but not enough to go back to sleep. He fought sleep most of the time now, figuring that the less he slept the less he'd have to put up with it.

Quietly as he could, he drew the curtains around his bed and plucked the Marauder's Map out from under his pillow.

It was the dead of night, so, really, there shouldn't be anyone visible on the map.

But there was.

Remus Lupin in the Defence classroom.

Severus Snape in the corridors.

And another, a name that was vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't say for sure that he knew it.

He watched it curiously, as it moved through the Great Hall before seeming to disappear into nothingness, leaving him wondering where he had heard the name before.

But he couldn't, for the life of him, remember where it was that he'd heard the name Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

Malachi jumped as Harry excitedly tossed the Daily Prophet down onto the table in front of him.

Several Slytherins glanced their way, both curiosity and distain in their eyes as they took in where he stood at the end of the Slytherin table, but he ignored them, sitting down on the bench next Malachi.

"Look at this," he said, barely able to contain his excitement, drawing the newspaper closer to point out the headline; "Your dad's opening up the Foundation this month."

"What?"

"Some sort of Fundraiser or something. This article said they used to do them all the time but not since…well, you know."

Malachi lifted the Prophet, eyeing the front page with all his scepticism visible on his face; "My dad doesn't even let me go out the house."

"Maybe he's lightened up a bit?"

"Doubtful," Malachi said, not bothering to read the article, and put it back down onto the table, reaching for his Potions textbook.

"That's not the best part though, Malachi, look," Harry said, lifting it and rustling through, quickly finding the schedule of events; "Look. Marvin McAbbot's going to be there, he's going to be doing a signing and it even says there's talks to try and get a Quidditch friendly that day."

Malachi's eyes lit up but only for a moment. He shook his head, defeated before he had even agreed to it; "There's no way my dad would let me go."

"Why not? I thought your dad lets you go back and forth during the summer? The Foundation is the safest place there is, they've got all that security."

"But if he's opening it up…I dunno. He just wouldn't. He gets really weird whenever we go out in public."

"But he'd be there, right? He takes us out sometimes. Do you think you could ask him?"

"I thought you wanted to stay here for Easter?"

"Well, I was going to," Harry lifted the paper with a smile; "Then I saw this."

Malachi looked thoughtful at that and Harry knew that he was mulling it over seriously this time. They hadn't really talked about it, all the stuff Malachi had to put up with in his own house, but Harry knew the reason he had opted to go home at every available holiday this year was more as a means of escaping his housemates than a big desire to go back and sit about staring at the walls of The Meadows' living room for two weeks.

"Alright. I'll ask him."

"Great. I'll send Mum an owl, tell her I'm coming home this month."

* * *

"Occlumency?"

"It would solve the problem, wouldn't it? If he were able to master it."

"Indeed."

Try as she might, Lily couldn't shake off the words Remus had spoken to her.

It was true, she and Severus had their reasons. It wasn't safe for anyone to know the truth of Grace's paternity. The only people who _did_ know were those who had managed to figure it out for themselves. Both Lily and Severus knew that no one could be _told_ the truth and, as difficult as it was, that included Harry.

But then, neither of them had expected it to get this far.

Voldemort had his followers, all still, at least, maintaining the _appearance_ of devotion. It should not be taking this long for him to resurface.

That delay was disconcerting.

And Harry was only, now, reaching the age where they ought to question what they were doing by keeping him in the dark. Before, he was too young. It was that simple. But at almost fourteen and more than a little aware of the world around him, how long could they seriously keep this secret from him?

A whole other life, as Remus pointed out.

She and Severus had already discussed it, years before, that if Grace reached the age where she could blow his cover, Severus would step away. He would have to. It was too dangerous for him to be around her then.

But neither she nor Severus had been strong enough to bring it up again when she eventually turned three, and then four, and, she even doubted they would do so in a few months' time when she would reach five.

They just continued to follow their carefully set rules. His name was never said in front of her. They never discussed his job. He never told her where he went; just 'work'. Nothing at all that could link who he was as her father to who he was when he wasn't with them.

Severus was simply 'Daddy' in their house.

"You could teach him."

"I could. If that's what you wish. I've already laid the foundations for it in our detentions."

"Great. Maybe then –"

"Don't get your hopes up, Lily," Severus interrupted her, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

She knew, of course, that convincing Severus would be a long shot. She knew that, in Severus' mind, there was little to gain and everything to lose by revealing the truth. Harry would be furious whether they told him today, next year, or even beyond, and it was better to keep Grace protected for as long as possible.

Lily was plagued with the uncertainty. With the weight of the decision.

She had chosen wrongly before when it came to keeping her son safe. She had taken Dumbledore's advice and waited, not running or hiding as every instinct had told her to, and the entire thing had backfired miserably.

Sirius ended up dead. And her son, marked.

Lily couldn't do it again; she couldn't fail her son, or her daughter, neither of her children.

Never again.

"I just think it's better we cover all the bases; use every option at our disposal. You've always said he'd have to learn, so why wait?"

"I agree. Of course, Pott - Harry will wonder as to the reasons why and I'll have to inform the Headmaster. It is not typical for a student to receive private tutorial after classes."

Lily almost mentioned Harry's lessons with Remus but thought better of it.

"Right. Well, that wouldn't be a problem. Dumbledore wouldn't object to something that will strengthen him when Voldemort returns."

"Yes. But that's not why you're asking me to do it."

"I just think –"

"You don't need to tell me what you're thinking, Lily, I already know," Severus said, with a sigh in his tone, "Which is why I'm asking you not to get excited by this. Occlumency takes great focus, self-control and determination, and even then, many fail to master it completely. Regulus has studied it for years under Dumbledore's guidance, by the same methods which I was taught, and he still comes up short."

Lily's lips twitched; "I'll be sure to pass along the vote of confidence."

Severus released an amused breath, shaking his head; "It is not a matter of intelligence. It is of control. One needs to be able to detach oneself from their emotions completely. From their memories, their motivations, their loved ones; even from themselves. Regulus can't do it; he never could."

Lily only nodded, not surprised by the information. She and Regulus had worked together now for years, both at the Foundation and hunting the horcruxes and, often, he would drop hints that he would like Severus' input on something and she would pass messages back and forth between them. Over time, the two had gotten more personal, with her seeing past the playful façade that Regulus displayed to the world and she caught glimpses of the person only Severus got the see. The damage beneath the surface.

"Your son is just as emotionally driven," Severus went on; "And also a teenager. Their emotions are out of control even at the best of times. This will take time."

Too long, is what Severus was telling her. Too long to be the answer they were looking for.

Lily drew in a breath, before she nodded; "Right. I get it."

"I'll speak with Dumbledore with plans to start after the holidays. Until then, I have to deal with this ludicrous idea of Regulus'."

"To open up the Foundation?"

"The other. Though you'd be right to group them under the same description."

Lily's lips twitched; "The whole reason behind the Foundation was to serve the public."

"That was before. Things have changed. It will not only be those sympathetic to the light who make an appearance at this event."

"As is at all public events."

"Which Regulus has no business partaking in. Consider the consequences if Death Eaters were to show up and attack."

"He's evoked the highest security measures possible, they would have no chance at inflicting any damage."

Severus only made a small _'hmph'_ in response, as he finished organising the potions phials in their case, preparing to head back to Hogwarts for the day; "I suppose the one – and only – benefit of this circus is that I shall be able to do so myself without appearing too out of place."

"You're going to go?"

"I need to speak with him personally and this would be the safest way."

"With witnesses?"

"That may work to our advantage."

A tapping at the window stopped any response; Hedwig.

All talk of occlumency, Regulus and the Foundation were driven from her mind, as she hurried to the window to allow the owl access, retrieving the note quickly as she did so.

Severus clicked the potions case closed and drew on his cloak, preparing to leave, asking only with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Harry. He's coming home next week for Easter."

"Ah."

Severus' response was, of course, not as enthusiastic as hers – it did mean a fortnight at Hogwarts for himself, after all – but Lily found it hard to be anything but delighted. The times she _did_ get to spend with Harry were short enough, as it was, and in light of the recent issues that had arisen, she was more than eager to have him there with them, at home, where he belonged.

Of course, the issues that had arisen since Christmas could make themselves known once more. But Lily held out hope that, just maybe, the conversation he had Remus a few weeks before might have been enough to satisfy Harry's curiosity.

If only.

* * *

"He said no," Malachi announced, as he plonked down next to Harry on the library floor, sounding neither surprised nor happy about it.

Harry did his best to hide his disappointment, though it was too obvious to miss; "Did he say why?"

"Yeah. Just the same reasons as always. Not safe. People there he doesn't want me to meet. The security guys aren't foolproof."

He refrained from adding 'blah, blah, blah', however tempting it was, firing off the excuses without enthusiasm. They had been given a thousand times before and, though he knew Harry got it, it didn't make the whole thing any less humiliating.

"He said he'd try and get us into a private box at the World Cup this summer, to make up for it. You know, with security escorts and hippogriff patrols. If that's your sort of thing."

Harry's lips twitched at the muted sarcasm though his eyes did light up at the suggestion.

"Was just an idea. It's fine."

"It's not. You should go."

"Nah. We can do something else."

"Like what, play wizarding chess?"

Like that would make up for missing out on meeting a Quidditch champion.

"Sure."

"Just go. Take Ron or something."

Harry shook his head, saying nothing, but he didn't push and, for that, Malachi was grateful because, while the gesture was kind, it didn't make him feel any better knowing Harry was missing out on something because _he_ was denied permission, as if he were a five year old who wasn't trusted to follow basic safety precautions. Like don't get killed.

Malachi reached for his school bag, the embarrassment still rolling off him as he reached inside and drew out the first piece of parchment he got his hands on.

Not the Transfiguration assignment he was expecting but a newspaper page, an old edition from the looks of it, and he frowned as he unrolled it to reveal the front cover of the Daily Prophet, dated 11th December 1981.

**_Black Heir Acquitted._ **

There was a picture of his dad beneath the text, looking dishevelled and broken and insanely _young_ , but with not a trace of the playful spark in his eyes that Malachi was used to and he quickly recognised the scene for what it was; his father, shackled in Azkaban. He recognised it from the others, the more recent imprisonments, his Uncle Lucius being one of them.

"What is it?" Harry asked, curiously, quickly picking up on Malachi's silence.

"It's…my dad."

Malachi made no move to shield the text from Harry as he shuffled closer to have a proper look, despite every instinct in his being telling him that he ought to; that this was something that should not be seen by _anyone._

Malachi struggled to even take in the words, eyes skimming frantically through the article, attempting to gather what information he could from the single page someone had left there for him.

_Following detainment on the 7th November…call for witnesses unsuccessful…released due to lack of evidence…_

Malachi realised his hands were shaking and he lowered the paper to his knees, simply staring at the page, dumbly.

He and Harry had come across some information the year before, learning that the followers of Voldemort had been labelled 'Death Eaters' – neither knew if that was the correct title and neither were willing to ask their respective parent – and Malachi had quickly realised that his Uncle Lucius must have fallen under the category. It had unnerved him, then, to think that someone he knew had been a follower of the Dark Wizard at all.

Malachi ran a hand across the page and then, as he expected based on previous encounters with his housemates, the words 'Blood Traitor' once again materialised across the middle, corner to corner. And, suddenly, everything made sense.

He had always assumed it was who his father was, the founder of Aurelius, that had made them a target. A pureblood, the head of one of the oldest and most respected blood lines, and a Hogwarts Slytherin alumnus; it was offensive enough, Malachi had thought, that his father would take such a bold stand against everything Voldemort believed and attempted to impose upon the world.

But to have been one of them. And then to do so…

"It doesn't mean anything, Malachi," Harry attempted to convince him, though he didn't sound at all sure himself; "It just says they accused him. Loads of people get accused. They let him go."

"Because they couldn't get the evidence."

"Maybe because there wasn't any?"

"Or maybe because all the witness were…"

_Dead._

Malachi couldn't say the word. He couldn't finish the thought and make sense of what it would mean because, although it made sense that this would be the reason why his dad – and _him –_ were so in danger, Malachi just couldn't reconcile it when the man he knew and lived with and _loved._

His father had always instilled within him, in no uncertain terms, that blood didn't matter. That everyone was the same. That people, alone, were responsible for their choices, not who or where they came from.

And, even if he hadn't, it just wasn't _him._ That wasn't his dad. His dad was warm and kind and gentle, he played and laughed and spoke happily with _everyone_ when they did happen to step out from the four walls of their Fidelius-protected home.

No one had ever said a word of it or turned away.

It just couldn't be true.

Malachi's mind was racing and he wanted, more than ever, to go home. Go home and ask his dad, himself, what had happened back then and why did he build Aurelius and, if he had followed Voldemort, truly, then _why, why, why_. But he was stuck here in this Castle that he _hated_ , now more than ever, as he realised that his housemates had known all along and this was the reason why it was like this.

This was the reason _he_ was like this.

"I have to go."

"Malachi –"

"Don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't –"

"No one!"

No one could ever know.

But, Malachi realised, stuffing the offending article back into his bag as he hurried away, if it was true then people did know. _Everyone_ knew.

It was in the Daily Prophet for all to see.

And he was the one who had never realised the truth.


	41. March 1994: Your Worst Nightmare

Two weeks.

It was not long in the grand scheme of life, no.

But, truly, the Hogwarts term breaks always seemed to drag on and on. Certainly, Easter was not as bad as the Summer or, indeed, the Winter break when he longed to spend the time with his family. But the sudden and unexpected announcement that Potter would be returning home for the holidays with only three weeks notice left Severus entirely unprepared for the fortnight of being stuck within the four walls of the castle.

He did, at least, have the brief visit to the Foundation and Regulus during those two weeks to look forward to. Even if he was entirely against the idea of it all.

On either side of that, he would spend the time in his quarters, marking and brewing and brooding on the impending return of the Dark Lord; he doubted he would continue to be able to ignore the faint, but ever darkening, outline of the Dark Mark that had been returning for the past few months.

The time was close. Very close.

"Daddy?"

A little hand waved in front of his face.

Severus quickly snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at Grace where she was curled up next to him in her bed.

"You did it, again."

"Ah. My apologies."

"Sorry?"

"Yes."

Grace pointed at the place in the book where he had been reading from, before he had encouraged her to take over and his mind had wandered, and he carried on reading the bedtime story she had chosen, as was their ritual when he managed to make it home.

He had made sure, that night, that he did.

He couldn't stay, no, not the whole night, as he sometimes – often, recently – did. It was too much of a risk, if Potter should decide to leave for home early in the morning, rather than in the afternoon as had been arranged.

Grace was asleep before the story was completed, and Severus slipped from her room, quietly, taking an extra glance back at where she slept to commit it to memory for the next few weeks, before joining Lily in the living room downstairs.

"All set?" she stood from the couch, making her way over to him as he returned the book to the mantle.

"Hm. As much as will ever be. You know how to contact me, should you need to."

"I do, yes," Lily smiled, leaning up to give him a kiss.

"You'll have your hands full, no doubt."

Lily waved a hand; "Nothing I can't handle. It's you I'm worried about. Patrols all holidays?"

"There will be coursework, too. That will certainly light the dark nights."

Lily laughed, quietly, so as not to disturb Grace; "You're still going to see Regulus?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It'll throw people off, seeing us together. On both sides. I can use that. The Dark Mark continues to darken, all is happening in the same way that it did before. We need to start lining up, getting our stories straight."

"What are you planning?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet. I just know it's better to have a foot in both doors, lest the Dark Lord believe I have nothing to offer when he returns. I am, also, quite certain that I will not be the only of his followers in attendance at this event. If anything, it will look suspicious not to go."

"That could easily be put down to Regulus believing you are entirely devoted to him. Voldemort knows he knew you better than anyone, back then."

"If I couldn't convince Regulus otherwise, in the Dark Lord's eyes what chance would I have of doing so with Dumbledore?"

Lily rolled her eyes, giving a shrug; "It makes my head spin. All the scenarios."

"It keeps me busy." Severus leaned down, pressed his lips to hers; "Stay safe. You won't be there?"

"No. I'll be at St Mungo's that day."

"Good."

"I'll try and make it."

"I'd expect nothing less."

Lily grinned.

"I shall see you in a few weeks."

"Or days."

"Hm."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

It was perfectly domestic and right.

Severus would spend the next two weeks missing it.

* * *

By the time the Easter holidays came around, Harry was entirely certain of Remus' secrecy regarding the identity of Grace's father.

He wasn't an idiot.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what it meant; Harry must know him, too. Either personally, which severely limited the number of men it could be, or because the man was in some way well-known. Famous!

Harry couldn't help but be a little excited by the thought.

It wasn't all that farfetched an idea. His mum worked at the Foundation, and there had been plenty a number of world renowned wizards who had come and gone through the place.

And just as logic quickly brought Harry to that conclusion, logic also told him that there was no way he was going to get anywhere with his questions to his Uncle Remus; no matter how many hints and outright enquiries he had fired his way since the initial conversation at the beginning of term.

His Uncle Remus was driven by loyalty; not to him, but to his mum.

And so, Harry would have to go to the source.

It wasn't only the promise of attending the Spring Fling at the Foundation that had him owling his mum that he would be coming home for the holidays.

"Sweetheart!"

His mum had him wrapped in a tight embrace the moment he and Remus stepped through the door on his arrival home; "This was such a wonderful surprise."

"Hi," Harry's voice was muffled as he shared an embarrassed grin with Remus.

"Are you hungry? I've got dinner cooking."

"A bit. Where's Grace?"

"Upstairs."

Lily motioned at Remus with a wave, urging him inside, before sweeping past to close the door behind him; "She woke up at dawn after getting herself all excited knowing you were coming home and ended up crashed out before noon."

Harry chuckled, dumping his backpack down on the kitchen table, rummaging inside.

"Are you staying for dinner, Remus?" his mum went on, heading past to the stove.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Mum, can I go to the Fling at the Foundation next week?" Harry asked, absentmindedly, "I was going to ask Ron if he wanted to go."

"Oh. Um…no, I don't think so, Sweetheart."

Harry looked up from his bag with a frown; "What? Why?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't get it, why wouldn't it be okay? You'll be there, won't you be working?"

"Not on Friday, I have to be at St Mungo's that day. I was hoping you'd watch Grace."

"Grace? Why can't Uncle Remus watch her?"

"Because Uncle Remus is busy."

Harry looked at Remus pleadingly but he only shrugged, apologetically.

Harry sighed, zipping up his bag and letting it fall to the floor, only mildly disappointed by the response. He'd lost most of his excitement about the event when Malachi had announced he wouldn't be able to go either, only deciding to go ahead and ask Ron at Malachi's insistence.

Ron was fine.

They had been close in their first year, and even most of the second, but he had been strange with him for befriending a Slytherin, not willing to see past the Houses, especially after Ginny was taken, despite them all happily playing together before they'd ever gone to Hogwarts.

Really, Harry was just as disappointed by Malachi being sorted into Slytherin as any of them, but he was still Malachi and he wasn't going to turn around and ditch him just because some crazy old rule said that Gryffindors and Slytherins couldn't suck it up and get on with it.

"Can Malachi come over, then?"

"Yes, that'd be fine."

"Harry!"

He was suddenly pounced on by little arms and legs from behind and he laughed, just as delighted as his little sister by the reunion and he reached down, grasping her under the arms and spun them both round.

"Be careful, you two," came their mum's warning, even as she smiled, and Harry carried on, ignoring the caution in favour of Grace's squeals.

The kitchen quickly came alive with the sounds of chatter and laughter, crockery and scraping chairs on the tiled floor, as they started getting set up for dinner.

Harry quickly found the weight of the questions – the wonderings about Grace's father, creepy nightmares and Death Eaters – all of it chased away by the busy, boisterous, cling, clang, clattering sounds of home.

* * *

"This next week is all about you, Beansprout!"

His dad was as delighted as ever to have him home, that much was obvious, and Malachi couldn't help the smile he gave as his dad moved around the room, chatting away in the same way he always did whenever he came back, even if the heaviness in his chest still wouldn't be shifted.

"I've managed to move some things around at the Foundation," his dad went on, putting a hand on his shoulder; "Oh! And tickets to the Quidditch friendly down in Yorkshire next week."

"Great," Malachi managed, mustering up some false cheerfulness but it fell short, his dad quickly picking up on his lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh. Unless you already had plans?"

Malachi fought not to scoff.

"Nothing. Well. Harry and me were gonna go to the Foundation one day."

He didn't say why, the reason being to make use of the information available in the Research Centre. Even the restricted section at Hogwarts was failing to provide any further information about Voldemort – or his dad – but both he and Harry knew that if there was any information documented, the Foundation would have it in the archives.

His dad wouldn't ask him the reason for going to the Foundation, though. It was the only place Malachi was ever allowed to go.

Except;

"Not for the Fling though. Don't worry."

His dad's excitement dimmed slightly at the mention; "Ah. Yes. Look, I'm sorry about that. But you know how it is, it's just too –"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Yeah?"

Malachi shrugged.

He didn't care about the stupid Fling anymore now, anyway.

His dad gave a nod at the couch; "So, you going to tell me what's been going on at school the past three months?"

"Maybe later."

Malachi hauled up his bag from where it lay at his feet; "I'm just gonna go unpack."

"Oh. Sure, no problem. I'll just get started on dinner, then."

Malachi avoided his eyes as he walked on by to the hallway, knowing his dad was watching his every move because it was obvious something was wrong, and he felt rotten both because of what he now knew and because of his dad's disappointment in his lack of excitement to be home.

He _was_ glad to be home. It beat Hogwarts, any day.

But his immediate desire to get back and confront his dad about the truth had evaporated as the days to his visit had dwindled down. He was uncertain how to broach the subject. It felt wrong to even ask.

_Were you a Death Eater?_

What if it wasn't true and his dad was upset that Malachi had believed it possible?

Or, worse, what if it _was_ true and his dad admitted it; how was he supposed to react to _that_?

Malachi had no idea.

He still couldn't figure out what his feelings were, even in the hypothetical sense. But he _could_ very quickly identify the feeling he had whenever he and Harry had spoken about it in the days since the Prophet had been left in his schoolbag.

Shame.

And it crushed him to think he could _ever_ be ashamed of his dad.

Malachi had always been so proud to be his son.

He stepped into his room and leaned his back against the door, pushing it shut as he did and slid to the floor, finally alone for the first time since he'd found out and did nothing to fight the tears that, for weeks now, had been begging to fall.

* * *

"Ah, the prodigal son returns!"

"Hey Julia," Harry grinned, before he was quickly pulled into a tight, swaying hug.

"Aw, look at you, little man!" Julia drew back, having to tilt her chin up to make eye contact; "This is a sin, it has to be. What are you now, fourteen?"

"Almost."

"Pah, rubbish. You'll always be that chubby little two-year-old to me."

His mum, appearing from nowhere, laughed beside him, clutching the most hideous scarf he had ever seen. He eyed it sceptically, shooting his mum a look to convey his disapproval of the wardrobe choice, but before either could quip it, he was called back into the living room by Grace.

"Stay for dinner?" he heard his mum say, as he shot Julia a smile of goodbye and headed out from the kitchen.

"Nah, I've got the graveyard shift tonight. Cute scarf –"

"It's really cold in Scotland, Uncle Remus," Grace was saying as Harry stepped into the living room; "You'll have to wear a hat."

"So it is, Grace. I'll take your advice and thank you for it," Remus ruffled her hair, affectionately, as Harry sat back down at the table.

"Why are you going back to Scotland?" Harry asked, reaching for the potatoes and loading up his plate.

"Sun, sand and sea."

Harry gave an amused chuckle, shooting Remus a look, but didn't press further, even if he did think it was weird that Remus seemed to head up there at least once a month, every month, since before he could remember.

He wondered if there was a girlfriend up there.

His mum came back into the room, then, joining them at the table and the conversation carried on; general chit chat that was typical when the four of them ate together and it took a good fifteen minutes or so for Grace to finally mention the mysterious 'Daddy' of hers but, when she did, Harry was ready for it.

"…he said it's the best school, the Learning Centre. Did you like it, Harry?"

"Yeah, it was great," Harry nodded. And, usually, that would be all he'd say. Humour her, is what his Uncle Remus had always told him to do, and so he did.

This time, however, he took it further. Too far, as was the point; "Did he say he'd take you for your first day?"

His mum looked up sharply at that.

"I'll ask him!"

"Great. Maybe I'll get to meet him."

"How come you don't know Daddy?"

"He's never here, see."

"He was here last night."

"He was? What was he doing?"

"Reading me a story."

"Which story?"

"That one."

Grace pointed at the book lying on the mantle, not missing a beat.

She was good, his little sister, so quick and able to answer any question he threw her way. She'd have a bright career in show business.

Harry started to say more, the discomfort rolling off both his mum and Uncle Remus palpable, but before he could open his mouth once again his mum spoke up.

"Harry."

He met her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Harry shrugged, as innocently as he could muster and failing miserably. He really was no good at this sort of thing. It had been Malachi's idea; he was far better at tricking people. Harry was pretty sure this whole exchange had gone down with all the subtlety of a lead balloon but, from the look on his mum's face, it had at least got the point across.

"Grace was just telling me about her dad. Why? What's the secret?"

Lily put down her knife and fork, looking agitated as she shared a look with Remus; "Grace, honey."

His sister, who had easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room, was looking back and forth between them.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get those pictures you painted for Harry?"

Grace brightened, instantly; "Okay!"

She was off her seat and hurrying from the room in a flash, but none spoke until her footsteps on the stairs could no longer be heard; his mum, because she wouldn't have wanted Grace to overhear the conversation that she expected to happen next and Harry because, well, because he was _nervous_. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he tried to make sense of what it was that _he_ was expecting and how to approach the whole thing, months of private deliberation in his dorm room failing him.

His mum spoke first.

"Don't tease her like that."

"I wasn't teasing her."

"Yes, you were. You know…"

His mum's words dwindled off and the accusation in her tone drove away his nerves completely and, instead, he found himself bristling.

"I don't know anything, actually."

His mum sighed, sharing another look with Remus.

"Well, I know you and Uncle Remus aren't telling me something. And I know it has something to do with Grace and who her dad is."

"Harry, please, just…"

"Just what? Let it go?"

Remus shifted at that, the not-so-subtle nod to the words he had said to him in January, when he had all but admitted that there _was_ a secret there.

His mum said nothing, simply shook her head with her thumb pressed to her lips, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment and Harry figured that maybe a little less attitude might do a bit more to encourage her to be forthcoming.

"Look, I get it, Grace is just a kid making up stories –" his mum met his eyes at that and he couldn't quite make sense of the look in hers at the statement so he just went on "- but he has to be _someone,_ right? Why won't you just tell me who?"

"It was a long time ago, Harry. Why does it matter now?"

"If it didn't matter you wouldn't be keeping it a secret, though. Why are you? Do I know him?"

"No."

It was too quick.

Far too quick for her response to be convincing and Harry knew, he _knew,_ in that moment that he did know this man. And his mum really, _really_ didn't want him to figure it out.

"Don't lie to me, Mum. I'm not a kid."

"Mummy, I can't find them!" Grace's voice sounded from the stairs.

"I'll go," Remus stood, leaving them at the table.

His mum sighed, pressed her hand to her forehead as she seemed to think for a second, before she brushed her hand through her hair and met his eyes, looking surer.

"It's complicated, Harry."

"Why is it complicated?"

"It just is."

"That's not vague."

"Yes, it's vague, it has to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Grace. And you. And…"

"Him?"

"Yes."

"Tell me who he is."

"No. I won't, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not safe."

 _That_ threw him. It wasn't a scenario Harry had considered. That he or Grace would somehow be endangered by the identity of the man.

"Is he dangerous?"

His mum sighed; "No."

"Well what, then?"

"Stop it, Harry. Just stop. I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

_Why not, why not, why not?_

Harry wanted to cry it from the rooftops.

He _had_ to know, the information his mum had now given him would only drive him crazy otherwise. Why was it dangerous to know who he was? What had he done? Would he come back for them? Put them in danger, even more than they already were because of who _Harry_ was?

"Harry, I'm telling you. It's not safe for you, it's not safe for Grace, for anyone to know who he is. So stop asking. Now."

"I don't understand."

"Good. I don't want you to understand."

"Mum –"

"Harry. Stop asking. Stop looking. I mean it."

His mum's tone left no room for argument.

Harry ground his teeth as he thought on the tiny snippet he had managed to gain but he was far from satisfied by the exchange. Not even close. If anything, he was only more curious – unbelievable so – and, also, angry, because his mum had just went ahead and admitted that there was a secret there, that she and Remus were keeping, and he didn't get to be part of it. Because he had to be protected. As always.

Like a child.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head and lifted his fork, stabbing one of his potatoes with unnecessary force.

"He sounds like a real winner."

His mum's lips parted, as if to speak or protest, but she didn't. Instead, she just froze up, pursing her lips together as they looked at one another, and Harry was thrown when he realised that what he'd said had actually _hurt_ her.

He felt bad, then, but, more than that, utterly confused; it was as if she still cared about this guy. Cared what Harry thought of him, even.

But before he could think any further on it Grace ran back into the room, straight to Harry, with Remus close behind, forcing him to feign delight at viewing the various paintings his little sister had done for him.

But, even with one eye upon the parchments, Harry easily caught it, the look of concern Remus gave his mum as he passed her, the brief hand on her shoulder before he took his own seat.

It was then, in that moment, that Harry realised it. That the whole conversation they had just had was so much more, so much bigger than just the question of who Grace's father was.

It was big, and bad and, potentially, shattering.

And, despite his mother's warnings, Harry knew there was no way he could possibly rest until he knew for sure what it was.

* * *

Any unease Lily felt about the disastrous dinner on Harry's first day home was quickly driven away in the days that followed. Not by reassurance, no, but by an issue far more pressing than how to deter her son's curiosity about Grace's father.

Harry had been home for three nights.

He had been plagued with nightmares for two.

Lily could hear him, even downstairs, the whimpers that turned to sobs and shouts, the creaking of his bed frame as he tossed and turned and fought some unknown threat, whatever he was seeing when he closed his eyes affecting him so much that by the time Lily had gotten to and managed to wake him, he was sweating and trembling and shaken; simply letting her hold him, in a way he hadn't allowed her to for years.

"Harry," Lily said, quietly, stroking the back of his hair and drawing back, "What is it? What did you see?"

He had calmed, now, enough that he shook his head and attempted to send her away, again, as he had done the first night.

She had accepted the brush off then, Harry's reassurance that he was fine – along with a residing attitude that still clung to him following their confrontation at dinner – and his insistence that it was just a silly dream was enough to placate the worry.

This time, she was not so easily dismissed.

"Harry. Was…was it him?"

She knew, before even asking the question, that it was.

Harry met her eyes then, looking surprised. And then, slowly, he nodded.

"And Sirius?"

Harry swallowed, drawing in a breath, before he shook his head; "Not this time."

"You've had these dreams before? Since before Saturday night?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it? What you've seen?"

"Just…Voldemort. I don't see him but…I remember his voice. How he –"

He swallowed and then looked away. He reached up then, rubbing his scar, and that got her attention further.

"Has your scar been bothering you?"

"No, not really. Just at night, sometimes."

"At night?" Lily frowned, her concern rising; "You mean, when you're having these dreams?"

Harry shrugged; "I dunno. I probably just hurt it or something when I was rolling about."

Lily doubted it.

But she also was uncertain as to what it could mean. Voldemort had given it to him, yes, but it had been accidental. All who knew the events of that night were sure of it.

It made her uneasy, her breath almost catching as her mind immediately offered up the possibility; Voldemort had made a point of marking his followers, linking himself to them and one another in a way that was entirely unnatural.

That couldn't be what was happening here. Not only because the very thought, alone, was so appalling. But could Voldemort really do the same thing to another person unintentionally? Were his capabilities with dark magic so strong that he had been unable to control it, as he teetered on the brink of his demise?

Severus had been warning her for months, now, that the Dark Mark he bore was coming back to him; even before it had shown, this time, he said he could sense it. The dark wizard's presence.

Perhaps Harry's scar worked in that same way. Perhaps he could somehow sense Voldemort through it.

Lily fought back the rising panic, forcing herself to remain calm so as not to alarm her son any further; "Okay. If you have these nightmares again, will you tell me? Or your Uncle Remus at school?"

"Why?"

"Just…just to make sure you're okay, Sweetheart."

"They're just dreams, Mum. I've had them for years. You don't have to worry all the time, you know."

Even as he said it Lily could tell he was still unsettled, trying to fool himself with his words as well as her. Putting up a front now that the initial fright had abated and she forced a smile and brushed his hair back from his forehead; "Now, you know better than to ask the impossible, Harry."

Harry smiled.

Lily was relieved. It was the first he had offered since the night he'd come home. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, even when he screwed up he nose somewhat at the gesture in mock protest and they laughed.

"Did you want to come downstairs for a while?" Lily offered, unnecessarily, as Harry was past being given a set bedtime and could simply take himself downstairs if he wanted to. But that didn't put her off asking, wondering if maybe he'd welcome the company; "I could put on that muggle film you like?"

Harry waved a hand, dismissively; "Nah. I'm okay."

"You're sure? It's awfully quiet down there when you two head up to bed."

Harry hesitated, his pride no longer on the line, and seemed eager to accept now that it seemed as if it was him doing something for her – the company – rather than the other way around and Lily knew, for sure, as he met her eyes with a grin that he was far more shaken by these dreams than he was willing to let on.

"Well, is there ice cream involved in that offer?"

Lily smiled and raised her eyes skywards; "Oh, there could be."

Harry threw the bed sheets from himself with over-dramatic flare and got to his feet; "Can't say no to that."

They went quietly down the stairs, so as not to wake Grace, and spent the next couple of hours curled up side by side on the couch, both fighting the pull of sleep as best they could.

But Lily couldn't enjoy it, the longed-for quality time with her son. Even as they sat there, laughing and mocking the lines and actions of the muggles on the screen, as they always did with that particular film, it was there, at the back of her mind.

These nightmares, the scar.

Dumbledore had assured her it was simply a side effect of the magic Sirius had evoked; old Magik worked in mysterious ways.

But her old Headmaster had been wrong before.

And what if it was as she feared and he was, in some way, linked to Voldemort in the way that his Death Eaters were? Lily had never really spoken to Severus about the Mark, his Mark, and what it meant to him; she knew that was the means by which he was summoned, yes, but could they actually sense one another through it?

Probably not, she realised with relief. Otherwise, wouldn't they have discovered Regulus with ease when he had run from them?

The thought brought comfort.

But only a little.

She still wasn't sure if that's what Harry's scar was. A link to Voldemort.

Severus could answer the question, maybe, if he knew what she had now learned from Harry. But they could not possibly wait the two weeks it would take before he returned to find out. She didn't know exactly what it meant or what they could do about it, but they had to do something quickly.

And so she sent a patronus, moments after she was certain Harry was asleep next to her on the couch, telling Severus to look out for her that weekend at the Foundation. He was still determined to go the last she had spoken with him and it would be easy, to slip a message to him through Regulus as to where to find her.

Lily gathered up a blanket, laying it over Harry where he slept, not wanting to disturb him by sending him on up to bed.

However, not feeling entirely comfortable about leaving him now, instead of retreating to her own room she gathered up another blanket of her own, settling down in the chair next to him and, eventually, drifted off into a fitful sleep of her own.

* * *

"Oh. You're up."

Regulus glanced up from the briefcase he had been packing with no little amount of surprise at seeing Malachi enter the living room, just past eight thirty.

It was the fourth day of this. Whatever _this_ was.

Regulus sitting in the living room with paperwork, or a book, or anything that could occupy his interest in his solitude, while Malachi hid out in his bedroom doing goodness-knows-what.

Finally, Regulus had mentioned to him at dinner the night before – the only time of day they actually spent together – that he would be heading into the Foundation for an hour or so that morning.

Regulus didn't need to go. The staff had been briefed and were more than capable of keeping the place going for the week he had intended to spend at home but his utter boredom had driven him to it.

"Yeah. I was gonna come with you," Malachi said and Regulus noticed that his son barely met his eyes as he spoke; "Harry's at the Foundation today, we were gonna hang out."

The boy who had come home from Hogwarts that month wasn't his son.

Sure, he _looked_ like Malachi.

Even sounded like him; on the few occasions he deigned to open his mouth, that is.

Regulus could turn his head, put it all down to Malachi becoming a teenager – was he really turning thirteen next month? - but he knew better.

It was something that had worried him for years; what would happen when his son finally went to Hogwarts.

Privately, silently, he had pleaded to the deities that Malachi may follow in his uncle's footsteps, rather than his; go to Gryffindor, with the safety of Harry Potter and his friends – who, apparently, drove Severus crazy – but it was a doomed plea from the start.

The Blacks belonged in Slytherin.

And so, to Slytherin, Malachi went.

The son of a traitor.

Regulus had owled Severus at Hogwarts immediately upon hearing of it, careful to make his words sound like those of that from a concerned parent to their child's Head of House rather than was it truly was; one friend pleading with another to keep their child safe, protected, sheltered from the obvious difficulties that Malachi would soon face.

Severus had come to him, personally – one of the few times that he had in recent years – to reassure him that he would.

But both knew there was only so much a Head of House could do. Both knew, well enough, from their own times within the Castle all that went on in those hallways, those dorm rooms, those dungeons. There was a camaraderie, yes, a loyalty to one another and one's House that could rival even that of the Hufflepuffs', but to be in that House and not considered one of them...

It was all Regulus could do not to go to Dumbledore, himself, and demand his son be placed somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else.

Regulus was reassured, somewhat, when the first Christmas came and Malachi returned home, the same bright, happy, sweet boy he had been when he had left a few months before, happily informing him that his friendship with Harry had survived the unexpected separation and even going so far as to tell his dad that his big cousin, Draco, was in his House and he had been kind to him. Had been showing him the ropes.

Regulus knew he had Narcissa to thank for that. Free from Lucius' domineering presence for five years now, the softness of his mother had surely rubbed off on him.

"Well, great!" Regulus lifted his hands in an approving wave; "Go get your things, I'm just leaving now."

"I have everything."

'Everything' appeared to simply be the clothes on his son's back but Regulus didn't object, happy to just have his son willingly in the same room as him at last.

"What are you boys going to be up to?" Regulus asked, by means of conversation, as he lifted the case and began to make his way towards the fireplace, indicating for Malachi to do the same.

Malachi bristled; "Nothing. Hanging out."

Regulus eyed him, only mildly alarmed at the attitude, but still, he was the parent and his son was definitely exhibiting less-than-Malachi-like behaviour the past few days and so a little reminder was definitely warranted; "Rules are still the same. You stay on the grounds."

"I know," Malachi mumbled, still not looking at him, and he reached for the tub of floo power and handed it to Regulus.

Regulus took it but didn't turn to use it, staying facing his son instead, looking at him closely until Malachi was forced to meet his eyes.

There was a guardedness there that Regulus had never seen. And something else, something that looked a little too much like sadness for his liking.

"Hey."

Regulus put a hand on his shoulder; "You alright?"

Malachi nodded, before averting his eyes again.

Regulus kept his hand on his shoulder, his eyes on him a little longer, appraisingly so, knowing without doubt that something wasn't right but Malachi shrugged him off after a few moments, sadness yielding to impatience and he looked at his dad, expectantly.

"He's probably already waiting, Dad. His mum started at eight."

Regulus gathered the floo power and tossed it into the fireplace, speaking the Foundation's address and urged his son through. Regulus followed immediately afterwards and within a few minutes they had arrived and cleared the security lines, making their way into the lobby.

Harry Potter was waiting, as Malachi predicted, standing self-consciously by the beams in the middle of the room and making a good show of pretending he didn't notice the prying eyes upon him; the great spectacle.

The Boy Who Lived.

"Good morning, Harry!"

"Hi, Mr Black," Harry straightened up, smiling easily as they reached him.

"Wait in my office next time, would you? I'll see to the clearance."

"Oh. Really? I don't –"

Regulus gave him a reassuring smile, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking more quietly; "There's only so much gawking a man can take, right?"

Harry smiled again, reddening slightly, before giving a nod; "Thank you, Sir."

"How's your game coming on?"

"Oh! It's great!" Harry's eyes lit up at the mention; "I love it. We're playing Slytherin in a few weeks, after the holidays."

"I did hear about the change in schedules this year. Well, I'll wish you luck, then. If my House's team is anything like it was when I was back there, well, we were quite the force to be reckoned with," Regulus teased, giving a nod and patting his own chest; "Especially the Seeker."

Harry snickered, still smiling brightly; "Thanks, I'll do my best."

"We're going to a game next week, Malachi and me. Talk to your mum, there's a ticket for you, too, if you want it."

Harry's eyes widened, sharing an excited glance with his still-less-than-enthused son.

Regulus liked Harry Potter.

Mostly, he was polite and well-mannered. Sometimes, though, he'd come out with the cheekiest of comments and Regulus was instantly reminded of his brother. Regulus always did his best to make it happen whenever he saw him.

Malachi shuffled at his side, not partaking in the pleasantries and looking as grim and miserable as he had when they left the house, reminding Regulus that all was not well, but maybe a day with Harry might perk him up a bit. They were far from the interference of any of Malachi's housemates, after all.

Regulus reached into his robe, pulling out a few galleons and handing them over; "For lunch, if you boys need it."

Malachi took it, almost reluctantly. He gave him a small smile; "Thanks, Dad."

Regulus reached up, unable to help himself at the small expression of affection, and squeezed his shoulder; "You know where to find me."

Malachi was looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time since he had come home and it almost made Regulus uncomfortable, his son looking at him like that; as if he were measuring him.

Regulus gave a nod, a dismissal, and the two boys headed on by, in the opposite direction from where Regulus' office was located; off in the direction of the Research Center.

Regulus watched them, unable to shake the ever-rising concern he felt for his son, but was reassured, somewhat, when Harry slapped Malachi on the back and their laughter filled the lobby.

A day with Harry would do him good.

If not, well, he had received a message through Lily that Severus would be attending the Fling later that week. Not only attending, he wanted to see him and with an audience, too, which seemed to suggest that tactics were changing – Regulus was glad and had a few suggestions of his own on that front – and he would use the time then to check in on what Severus thought was going on with his son.

Regulus set off for his office, mind filled with ponderings on the new-Malachi that had come home to him, as he attempted to reassure himself that he had been exactly the same at his son's age. He had been more than happy to lock himself away for hours on end in his bedroom, content in his solitude.

But any comfort Regulus may have gained from the remembrance was quickly washed away by further reflection on what it was he had actually been _doing_ at that time. Sitting in solitude, soaking up all the articles in the Prophet, pondering over conversations his parents and Aunt and Uncle had been having over dinner, completely taken in by this new, exciting agenda of the great Dark Lord who promised them freedom from the Statute and the Ministry, if they would only take action against these muggles who made it all necessary.

The memories made his stomach churn; the shame burn.

A familiar head of dark hair up ahead promised to chase the dark thoughts away.

"Well, this is a surprise," Regulus said with a smile.

"Mr Black."

Julia gave him an unabashed smile and fell into step beside him when he didn't stop, merely indicated she join him with a nod.

"What brings a pretty girl like yourself to the Foundation, Miss Bradbury?"

"Looking for you."

"And how did you know I'd be here?"

"I have my ways."

They stopped at the door to his office and he grinned at her, wordlessly casting the spells to take down the wards; "Thank the deities for that."

He reached down and swung the door open, taking a step back with a slight bow; "After you."

Julia laughed and headed inside, he following immediately after, and within just a second of the door clicking shut behind him, the promised distraction very quickly helped him forget it all.

If only for a little while.

* * *

"Weird. It's not like you know a ton of guys old enough to be Grace's dad, right?"

"Right."

They were in the private room of the Research Center, the same room that was always reserved or cleared out for Malachi whenever he was on the grounds, as per his father's instructions. Normally, Malachi was embarrassed and irritated by it but, this time, he didn't seemed bothered. The two of them could do with the privacy, after all, what with the reason for them being there.

They couldn't very well be seen looking for any incriminatory evidence against Regulus Black right under his staff's nose.

"That's why I thought it could be someone here," Harry went on, as he skimmed through another Prophet page; "I mean, maybe I don't know him personally. Maybe we'd know him because he's done something? For the Foundation."

"Maybe. Yeah. That'd make sense. Not everyone who's been through here has been good, mind. You sure you wanna open up that can of roaches? Your mum's probably freaked out for a reason. Especially if Professor Lupin's on board with it; he's honest, right?"

"Uncle Remus would jump off a bridge if Mum asked him to," Harry stated, dismissively, knowing that trying to get any information out of Remus now was a pointless endeavour; "I keep trying to remember back then. There weren't any boyfriends or anything. Just him and Uncle Sirius."

"Maybe Uncle Sirius?"

"I thought that, too, but the timing doesn't match up. And, you know, why would that be dangerous?"

"I dunno. It wouldn't be, I guess."

"And there'd be no reason to lie, anyway. He's…not here anymore."

Malachi hesitated, looking up and casting a sympathetic glance in his direction, before he reached for another of the records he was going through.

"Hey." Malachi lifted his head; "Got it."

"What is it?"

"Trial dates. People they called up."

A heavy silence filled the space between them, as Harry waited, almost entirely certain that, no way, had Regulus Black been a Death Eater back then.

It was crazy.

Malachi's dad was so _nice._

Not to mention, totally awesome. Harry didn't see him all that often but he was one of the few people that ever came to the house, that actually spoke to him and listened to what he had to say in turn, that made him feel like it was _him_ he was actually seeing, not just the boy with the scar.

"Malachi?" Harry tried, softly, when the silence stretched on and Malachi didn't seem inclined to speak.

"Yeah. It's here. Apprehended November 15th 1981. Trial was scheduled to start on the 8th December."

Malachi spoke without feeling, just reiterating what the text said, but Harry knew he was just holding it back. He quickly made to reassure him; "We knew that already. We're trying to find out the reason he was called up in the first place. What evidence they _did_ have. Could have just been someone threw out a name to try and save themselves, I heard the Death Eaters did that sometimes back then. Some got out of their own trials that way."

Malachi only nodded, slowly, not looking up from the parchment.

"Anyone else we know on the list?"

"Not really. A few."

"Really?"

"Uh. Lucius Malfoy. Sebastian Nott –"

"No surprises then."

Malachi gave a lopsided smile.

"Snape on it?"

Malachi met his eyes with a frown; "What?"

"Snape? Seems like the type."

Malachi snorted, shaking his head and looking back at the parchment; "Giving you a few detentions doesn't make him a Death Eater."

"A few? Right. And that's not why I'm asking. He's…"

Malachi looked straight at him at that, putting Harry off, because he was reminded that Malachi actually _liked_ Snape – which was also pretty crazy, but then he _was_ one of his Slytherins – so Harry changed his tune; "He was one of your dad's mates, right? If he was accused, it might give you an idea of the kind of people your dad spent time with."

Malachi looked thoughtful at that, only glancing back at the article briefly, because he'd probably already checked and remembered every important name on the parchment at this point; "He's not on the list."

"Really?" Harry couldn't hold back his surprise.

"Yeah, really," Malachi rolled his eyes and tossed the paper aside and reached for another; "Not everyone you don't like is a Death Eater, you know."

Harry knew better than to get into another argument with Malachi about their thoughts and feelings on their Potions Professor, instead directing the conversation back to where it belonged; "I like your dad."

"You don't think he was one, though."

"Do you?"

"I dunno. I mean, look," Malachi waved an agitated hand in the direction of the parchments.

"You should just ask him. You're only going to go crazy until you find out it's not true."

"But what if it _is_ true?"

Harry shrugged.

"Still better to know, right?"

Malachi didn't respond, just kept going through the Prophet he was holding, both of them surrounded by all the information they could get their hands on from nineteen eighty and nineteen eighty-one, all of which were coming up short. Everything prior to November 1981 was awash with pointless stories, barely reporting on Death Eater activities during the war at all.

In fact, from what Harry was reading, it was as if the Prophet was actually _supportive_ of Voldemort's actions, a definite slant in their dark wizard's favour in the articles that were available, even if they did not say so outright, and Harry guessed they weren't going to find anything more from this time period.

He said as much to Malachi, gathering up the mess and going to trade them in for some others; something from earlier.

Malachi was sitting quietly brooding, exactly where he left him, when Harry came back with more copies of the Prophet, among other dated journals he could find.

"The librarian, Miss Cartwright, she thinks we're up to something," Harry remarked, dropping the armful he had onto the floor in front of Malachi.

"We _are_ up to something."

Harry grinned, sitting down next to him, and the two of them gathered up something each to go through.

"You know, your dad was talking about people he didn't want you to meet at the Fling, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe that's who he meant."

"Death Eaters?"

"Yeah."

Malachi frowned, looking hesitant; "My dad wouldn't let Death Eaters in here, Harry. They're who the Foundation is fighting. It wouldn't make sense."

"Well, who else could he mean? Maybe it's a test. Or a trap."

Malachi didn't respond, seeming to think on the information.

"Would be good to go, to see for ourselves. That could answer the question, seeing how he is with them."

"My dad talks to anyone, though."

"Maybe he won't talk to _them_. Keep the list, see if they're there."

"You just took it away."

"You remember it though, right?"

Malachi shrugged; "Does it matter? I told you, I can't go."

"No, your dad can't know that you're there. That's even better. Maybe he acts differently when he knows you're around."

"I thought you said you had to watch Grace?"

"It's a family thing, right? She's no bother, she can come with us. I'll give her some chocolate frogs and we're sorted, her silence is easily bought."

"She's four."

"Almost five. And it's my mum she'd tell, not your dad, if she did rat us out and by then we'd have seen what we wanted to see."

Malachi was quiet, not responding to what he was saying at all.

In fact, he'd gone completely still, simply staring at the Prophet he was holding in front of him, the only movement the slow back and forth of his eyes on the page, and a frown that was deepening as he read on and on.

"What is it? Did you find something?"

Malachi raised his eyes to Harry's. He swallowed, looking, for all intents and purposes, _gutted._ And he simply held the page out for him, an opinion page, and Harry grasped it and had a look.

It was an old issue, years before either of them were even born. Malachi's dad could have only been a teenager then. A young one, maybe Harry's age?

It didn't matter, Harry realised, as he first skimmed the words and then frowned, reading them again more carefully. They _had_ to be read carefully. Maybe then, he and Malachi could find some hidden meaning, something that told them that this couldn't possibly be written by the name signed at the bottom of the paragraph.

Regulus Black.

Harry mumbled the words as he re-read them; "It is an abomination that we, the superior race, must conceal ourselves behind our own magic to protect ourselves against persecution and execution by those who are, undoubtedly, inferior. At no time in history –"

Malachi snatched the Prophet back from him, eyes quickly scanning the room, before he tore it up. Or, rather, Harry thought he was tearing it up. Instead, he tore _around_ the words his father had written and stashed it in the pocket of his trousers.

An uneasy silence settled over them.

Both knew the other was thinking the same thing.

Regulus Black had been a Death Eater.

Sure there was the chance it was all circumstantial. This really only proved that he was sympathetic to anti-Muggle sentiments. It didn't prove that he had been a _Death Eater_. But then, nothing really would, otherwise he would never have been acquitted. This was as close to it as they were going to get.

Even _this_ went entirely against everything the man seemed to stand for, now.

Harry was gobsmacked.

His mum worked for him here. Did she know? Would she work with someone who had been one of them?

But then, he was his Uncle Sirius' brother. His Uncle Sirius had put his life on the line to protect him. Because he wanted out of all of this, maybe? Was that what had happened?

There were so many questions running through Harry's mind as he attempted to process it but he forced them away, glancing at Malachi and knowing that anything that was going on in his head at that moment was _nothing_ in comparison to what must be going on inside Malachi's.

"Hey," Harry grasped him on the shoulder, "Malachi."

The younger boy drew in a breath and met his eyes, a determination in them this time which Harry wasn't expecting to see. He frowned but Malachi only lifted his chin, higher; "Alright, let's go."

"Go?"

"To the Fling. If it's true, I want to see it."

Harry wondered if they really would, what it was that Malachi wanted to see and what would be more incriminating; his father snubbing the previously accused Death Eaters? Or fraternising with them?

But it had been his idea, after all, and they had nothing to lose.

So Harry nodded.

And then he smiled.


	42. April 1994: The Game

The Foundation was bustling with excitement.

Chatter and music and squeals and rowdy laughter, children running through the hallways and out into the gardens, the fairground erected proving all the enjoyment they needed, while those so inclined drank in the ballroom and danced and hooted as the band played on.

It was so much more than any of the fundraising events had been in the past, no expense spared, anything that could be done would be done.

And they had all come.

Those who served the Order; Dumbledore.

And the Dark Lord. Those loyal to the Death Eaters – none known Death Eaters, themselves, as most were on the run or captured – they had been drawn in. Partook in the merriment.

No distinction between the sides; it would be impossible to do so without any prior knowledge as to the wars that had plagued them just years before.

It was all just as Regulus had intended.

Get them together. Frolic and fraternise and look into one another's eyes and dare to tell themselves that they would do it, lift their wands and end them there and then at the whim of a man who took it upon himself to play them like pawns in their games.

They were all the same, here.

"Regulus."

He was startled at the voice, the familiar face of his cousin appearing before him, right in front of him; someone he had not seen for years, not since the night he had fled from her home in fear for his and Malachi's life.

"Cissy."

Narcissa.

Regulus wondered why he should be so surprised.

Of course Narcissa would come. This had been hers, too, once upon a time. She and Andromeda, they had stood by him, then; before it had all turned and his cards were revealed.

They just stood there, looking at one another, and it was almost awkward.

But not quite.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

And then Regulus sighed, stepping towards her and enveloping her in a hug; hugged her tight and wondered if she could feel it, the regret, the apology for all that had transpired since that night he had run from her and even before; the deception.

"You've been ignoring my letters," Narcissa finally said, when they drew apart.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Do I really have to say it?"

Narcissa gave him a smile that didn't even come close to meeting her eyes; "Is that what we've come to, then?"

"You tell me."

Narcissa still smiled but it was sad now, as she looked out at the partygoers, out over the ballroom; "It really takes you back, doesn't it? All of this."

"Well, I can't say it is as impressive as the events you always provided for us. But, I think we've done alright."

"False modesty doesn't suit you, Regulus."

He grinned.

"What are you doing? Why have you done this?"

Regulus glanced at her; "What makes you think I'm 'doing' anything?"

"The Foundation isn't what it used to be. It isn't just a Centre for healing or research anymore. It's a statement, a symbol; against him. And yet, you invite them all here. Those who you know would burn it to the ground if they had the chance."

"Have the chance, they won't."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Look at them, Cissy. Pick them out. Those who you think would do it. Who would burn it all down, as you say."

Narcissa looked at the crowd, the smiling, laughing faces of all who were there before them. The children playing, running back and forth.

If you looked closely enough, yes, you could see it there, in some of the groups congregated throughout the room; an underlying resentment, a current of distrust, that none would act upon, not when the payoff would be so fruitless. There were security personnel everywhere, even if Regulus had ordered them to dress informally, and all knew it.

On wrong move was a direct, one-way ticket to Azkaban.

And so, here they were, face to face, living and laughing, with those they would take arms against with no chance to do so and that was enough, for now.

"We are all losers, here, Cissy."

And wasn't that the truth.

Narcissa was looking at him, carefully, strangely, and he met her look evenly.

"You've changed."

"Changed?"

"Well, Regulus, I dare say you've become a man."

"Ah. I'm sure my parents would be proud."

"I'm sure they wouldn't be."

And they both laughed.

Narcissa lowered her eyes, before looking out at the ballroom once more; "It was good to see you."

She made to go by him.

Regulus caught her by the arm as she did; "Cissy."

Narcissa met his eyes.

He looked at her, then, trying to communicate in the exchange that he meant what he was about to say with everything that was in him.

"If you want out, I'll help you."

Narcissa didn't look surprised at the statement.

Instead, her eyes softened and there was a sadness there, now, a brokenness in them that stung him.

"We both know it's too late for that, Reg."

Regulus shook his head. It was never too late. But he knew better than to press. She had to want it. To be ready for it; what it would mean.

Narcissa smiled then, truly smiled, and leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He smiled in turn when she drew back, meeting his eyes for a second.

"For what it's worth. I'm proud of you."

Regulus dismissed the sentiment, silently; Sirius had said it to him, once before, too, and Regulus' response then still stood.

There was nothing to be proud of here.

But he said nothing, not wanting to make this into another one of _those_ conversations and so nothing more followed.

Narcissa simply turned and carried on her way, him watching with all-too-familiar regret as she did.

* * *

Malachi watched the exchange from the grounds.

He and Harry and Grace were hidden beneath the fabric of the invisibility cloak as they pressed in close to the window.

"Look, Harry, a roundabout!"

Grace was pointing at the carousel, excitedly, having wanted desperately to go to the fairground since she had spotted it on arrival.

"We'll go later, okay, Grace?" Harry was attempting to bargain with her, holding out some cotton candy for her; "Have this just now. And don't move, there's hardly any room under here."

"Why do we have to be under this?" Grace asked, with a mouthful of candy, accepting the bribe with the same eagerness she had been munching down on the chocolate frogs they'd been offering her.

"It's a game, see? Hide and seek."

"Who are we hiding from?"

"Everyone."

Harry turned away from her, carefully rising from his stooped position so as not to disturb the fabric too much as he leaned in closer to Malachi to see what he was watching.

"Who is it?"

"My Aunt. Narcissa Malfoy."

"Malfoy?"

"Yeah. Draco's mum."

"Well, his dad's in Azkaban, right? He's a Death Eater."

"I know."

"They look…friendly."

"They're family."

It was true. His aunt was his dad's cousin and, although Malachi hadn't seen her for the past few years, he still remembered her and how his dad would leave him there at the Manor when he was a child, let him spend the day, even night, with her and his cousin and Malachi had loved it and loved her and he was certain his dad had felt the same.

Could Malachi really base any judgement on the way he behaved with her now?

He watched as his dad looked on after his Aunt, as she left him, and Malachi could see sadness in his eyes as he did.

"What do you think?"

Malachi shrugged; "I dunno. I already know it's true, right?"

"You still haven't asked him?"

"No."

"But you have the letter. Just show it to him. Ask him what he meant."

"We _know_ what he meant, Harry," Malachi snapped, glaring at him, there was no subtly about the meaning in his father's written words at all.

Harry backed off; "Look, let's just go to the fairground for a bit. It'll calm Grace down for a while."

Calm you down, is what Harry really meant, he knew, because he had been agitated and uneasy since the moment his dad had dropped him off at the Potters' that morning – even before – and Malachi shrugged and conceded because he really didn't know what it was he was looking for.

His dad was just the same as he always was, from what he could see, there was no change at all from when he didn't know Malachi was around.

He still spoke and smiled and laughed with everyone. And Malachi really couldn't tell who it was he was fooling, if he was fooling anyone at all.

Surely, if he had gone to trial, people must know that he was accused, what he might have been and, yet, no one in this place seemed to care.

In fact, any conversations they overheard where his dad was mentioned were filled only with comments of admiration and praise at what his dad was doing.

Just as beloved as Malachi had always believed he had been.

"I don't think we're going to see anything," Malachi finally conceded, while Grace rode the carousel, he and Harry standing off at the back – as out of sight as they could from the building; "Dad's just the same as he always is. And I remember all the names on that list and none of them are here, none that I know, anyway."

Harry shrugged, keeping careful eyes on his little sister; "No harm in looking a bit more. We could maybe go and meet Marvin McAbbot if you wanted to. No point in rushing home now that we're already here."

Harry made the suggestion without any of the enthusiasm he had had when he first mentioned the Qudditch star was going to be there. But he was right that there was no point in hurrying home, they'd done it now and they were here, so they may as well enjoy it.

Malachi hadn't been to anything quite like it, not ever.

He had never been around so many people before.

It was exciting, even looking past the reason that had brought him there.

Malachi grinned; "Yeah. Still have to keep an eye out though. If Dad catches me, he'll go nuts."

"I think the hundreds of people lining up to shake his hand will keep him busy," Harry stated, only taking his eyes off Grace for a second to shoot him a grin in turn.

"Harry, can I go on again?" Grace called out when the carousel ride ended.

"Sure," Harry called back. And then he gave Malachi a nudge; "We'll come on with you."

Grace's smile was beaming as they came up to join her, both keep a careful look over their shoulders as they did.

* * *

It was like stepping back in time.

Everything here was familiar. The sights. The sounds. The faces.

Severus had barely stepped through the door, carefully dodging the wild antics of the children in the lobby, when Cornelia Heart had set her sights upon him, eyes wide and bright with recognition when she did.

"Severus!"

The unmitigated delight in her voice couldn't help but bring a smile to his lips.

"Good afternoon, Cornelia."

He was seized and pulled into an unexpected embrace but he went with it – oh the power of nostalgia – and was still smiling when she drew back seconds later, a wide smile still there as she regarded him.

"Well, this is a surprise. Does the Boss know you're here?"

"I suppose we're about to find out."

Severus wasn't sure exactly how he and Regulus were going to do this. As if it were an impromptu reunion, triggering conversation, or a scheduled meeting, but he knew that, either way, it was better that their acquaintances – or, he supposed, friends – did not know the truth of it.

Heart did not wait for further elaboration, grasping him by the arm and drawing him over to a group of just-as-familiar faces who all greeted him with the same enthusiasm. Smiles and laughter and _hooting_ quickly erupting when his old colleagues recognised who it was that Heart had brought over to them and he was reminded of how things used to be, so long ago now, when he had been part of all this and one of these people.

Severus took a glass when the servers came round, firewhiskey, while those he knew and, he realised, had missed relegated him with stories of times passed, smiling and talking and slapping him on the back with such friendly familiarity it was as if he had never left.

"What are you working on now?" Butterman asked, suddenly, putting Severus on the spot.

"Ah. Nothing of great consequence."

Nothing at all, his mind offered up.

"Nothing that has managed to survive the early stages," he added, lifting his glass to his lips.

It was not a lie, if the 'early stages' in question was the actual thinking and implementing of an idea in the first place. The closest Severus had come to innovation since immersing himself at Hogwarts were his private comments to Lily on the projects that she was partaking in at the Foundation with these people.

"Oh, don't we know it! Four – _four –_ projects in the past three years have come to nothing downstairs," Littlewood chimed in, shaking his head, before pointing his glass in Severus' direction; "We could've used your input, Severus, you may have managed to salvage them."

"You're wasted in that school, Severus," Butterman added, to murmurs of agreement amongst the group.

"Ah. It has its moments," Severus responded and could say nothing more but smile politely.

"Well, well. Wouldn't you know? The cat came back."

Severus' smile turned to a smirk and he glanced sideways at the voice who had joined them.

"Regulus."

Regulus grinned widely and Severus felt a hand on his back, before he was presented with a hand to grasp; "Severus."

Severus shook it and he could have laughed at the formality of it all.

It certainly piqued the interest of those who observed them; the greeting.

Rumours had run rampant in the early weeks and months of the Foundation's second reopening, when all who had served within its walls had been called back to office and offered their old posts and, as far as Severus was aware, all who had been there before the Dark Lord's return had resumed.

All except one.

Severus Snape.

Being so high up within the Foundation, his close friendship with Regulus so well-known, it was almost a scandal within the organisation when he had not returned. Not even set foot within its wall since. Not a glimpse of him spotted with the founder with whom he had spent so much of his time prior to all hell breaking loose.

Talks of their estrangement were still murmured years later, when Lily had joined the organisation following completion of her training.

And no wonder.

For what man in his right mind would opt to leave the Aurelius Foundation, a coveted position – even more so now – as Deputy Head of the Research facility, in order to serve as a mere Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School for children.

Not unless there had been some serious blowout behind the scenes.

Or so it was believed.

Rumours, some achingly close to the truth, quickly emerged to fill in the blanks.

"The gang back together, we should call for a snap!" Littlewood announced into the chatter.

"Or a toast," Butterman put forward, indicating at the nearby server.

"Lest we forget the glory days, Felix?" Heart laughed.

Severus and Regulus exchanged a look, and Severus couldn't help a smile tugging his lips at Regulus' delighted grin. Clearly, he was pleased to have them all back together again, also.

They stood there for some minutes, just long enough until it was appropriate to be excused, as time was limited. Regulus could not spend the entirety of the event engaged in his company, he had duties to attend to, but Lily had made it clear to him that Regulus was keen to speak with Severus alone, taking advantage of this rare time together to do so.

Regulus made the necessary excuses, to unassuming smiles and nods from their companions, and turned to him with raised eyebrows; "Severus?"

And then, they were on their way, speaking lowly to one another as they did so.

"How shall we do this, then? My office?"

"An audience would be more effective."

"The subject matter is pretty sensitive. Some, if not all, concerns…family."

It took only a moments contemplation for the plan to change.

"Your office, then."

Upon arriving in said office, Severus spent the next fifteen minutes attempting to placate Regulus, not the first time he had had to do so, that Malachi was _fine._ That Severus was doing all he could to support his son and had dealt with the culprits in question.

Since Malachi had come to Hogwarts, Severus had never deducted so many points from his own House, if ever.

"Have you seen him, Severus? Spoken with him? That boy is not my son."

"I have noticed he has become more reserved, I suppose, but he is as amicable as he ever was when I do step in and speak with him."

"At least he grants you that much."

"Are you certain it is a problem within the school that's caused his behaviour?"

"What else could it be?"

"Well, Regulus, as delightful as you are, it is entirely possible that you have simply put him out."

Regulus bristled; "How could I have done that? I haven't seen him in months."

"You've communicated with him, surely?"

"Only to deny permission to attend this event."

"Ah."

"You think that's what this is? It's just a work function."

"Teenagers are notoriously able to blow the smallest of injustices into issues of mammoth proportions."

"That's not Malachi."

It took another ten minutes for Regulus to finally concede that perhaps it was simply Malachi's way of making it known that he was less than happy with their circumstances, the consistent refusal for him to partake in activities that any other boy his age took for granted.

So far, Malachi had dealt with it all with relative good nature, but finally being in the company of so many others his age, it was entirely possible that he was now able to see and think on exactly what it was he was missing on out simply for being Regulus Black's son.

Severus could see that Regulus was less than comforted by the realisation but he took it in stride, as he always did, changing the subject with typical good humour that Severus had sorely missed.

"You looked quite at home back there."

Severus shrugged; "Old habits."

Regulus' eyes gleamed; "Come back."

Severus scoffed, shaking his head; "Impossible. I need to be where I am."

"Stewing in Dumbledore's dungeons?"

"With Potter."

"You need to be doing what you can to ensure you have a good foothold in the Dark Lord's circle when he returns. What do you think is going to impress him more? A man who has spent his time brooding the years away under Dumbledore's thumb or one who is out there, with influence in the world?"

"Regulus, he would not have it. Me working with _you_? It's absurd. Nothing could make me appear more disingenuous."

"He allows you to work with Dumbledore."

"As a spy."

"Exactly."

Severus leaned back in his chair, regarding Regulus carefully, wondering if he was seriously suggesting that he come back here and offer himself up as a spy within the Foundation to the Dark Lord when he returned.

"You cannot be serious."

"I'm here. Potter's mother is here. After the summer, his little sister, too. The Foundation stands against him, explicitly. The Dark Lord is going to send someone in. No doubt about it."

"If you know it then you can prevent it."

"Security fails. People slip through the cracks. Sure, I'm not exactly in the habit of hiring Death Eaters or their sympathisers but not all of them are so blatant that I could pick them all out and deal with them. Bringing you in is perfect. Not to mention, the Dark Lord would be glad to be spared the headache of trying to get someone in, someone high enough within the ranks that he could trust."

"The Dark Lord does not trust me. You forget that he offered me no information whatsoever about your pursuit following your defection."

"I doubt it'll take long for you to convince him of your worth."

"It is too risky. You and me. It is –"

"If anything, it's perfect. It's not as if we carried on as normal in the years that followed, everyone can see that. Hell, our 'estrangement' has lasted more than five years. What better time for you to reach out, to come back and convince me of your 'goodness' than when the Dark Mark is finally beginning to show once more?"

"And you're to fall for that, are you?"

"If the Dark Lord believes Dumbledore would then why wouldn't I? There's sentimentality involved, after all."

"Indeed. It is sentimentality that is making you offer this in the first place."

"And sentimentality which is moving you to consider it. Look at you, you're practically glowing at the possibility."

Was he?

Of course he was.

To be back at the Foundation, hell, of course he _wanted_ that.

But could they really make it work, convince the Dark Lord it was all a play on his part against Regulus; that he had taken his double life further, gained the trust of both Albus Dumbledore and Regulus Black and, yes, in doing so had managed to increase his value to the Dark Lord irrefutably.

Possibly.

"We have to play big to win big, Sev," Regulus went on; "You know that. Sure, everyone has their limits. But I'm not yours, right? So play me."

Severus looked at him, appalled at the statement. Regulus meant it as rhetorical, obviously, a mere nod at his circumstances with Lily and Grace, who, of course, were his priority. But to suggest that he would be so willing to put Regulus' life on the line to get ahead in this war was outright offensive.

Regulus seemed to realise that, when the silence dragged on, and averted his eyes. He looked sheepish but he didn't take it back.

Of course he didn't.

No one was more convinced of their own unworthiness than Regulus Black, after all.

"What are you proposing?" Severus finally said.

Regulus smiled, already looking triumphant and leaning back in his chair as he spread his hands; "You've run the place, Severus, pick a post and it's yours. I'll make it work. My opinion? Back where you belong. Head of Research."

"Ha. And how am I to find the time for that?"

"Deputy, then. Just as before. Part time here, part time at Hogwarts. Dumbledore would go for it, if he knew it would further the war effort. Bearing in mind you'd be coming in under Heart, if you do."

"I doubt Cornelia would have been happy for me to suddenly outrank her once more after the time away."

"Not at all, she has already been briefed."

" _What?"_

"I couldn't very well offer up her job to someone else without first smoothing out the edges, could I? In any case, she came to me. She is to become a grandmother in the Autumn and was hoping to scale back her workload. In fact, it was by Cornelia that your name was first voiced."

"Which sent your mind going, no doubt."

"And has brought us here."

Severus sighed, thinking on it. Really thinking on it.

"You cannot come in on anything less than Depute. The Dark Lord would know you wouldn't have it. A man of your talents."

"Why, Regulus, you flatter me."

"Please, you flatter yourself."

Severus smirked, shaking his head.

It was tempting.

Oh so tempting.

It could all go so very right. But then, it could all go very, very _wrong._ Play the game too ambitiously, too arrogantly, and it could all crumble and the stakes were high enough as it was. To say it was risky was an understatement.

"It is not just yourself who is here, Regulus. There are others, just as you said."

"Split the post, then. Part time but still Head of Research. Heart takes the field; the healers report to her. That solves the problem; yourself and Lily can have as much or as little to do with one another as you wish."

"We cannot be seen together."

"Little it is, I can see to that. Of course, it also grants the perfect ruse for an audience with one another should you ever need it, when the times comes. And you and I, also. It is frustrating, waiting days between messages being delivered before getting anything done. And we will be far more effective when the Dark Lord does return if we are able to speak to one another, directly, without having to come up with excuses any time we are to be in the same location."

"And Grace?"

Regulus looked stunned.

It was the first time that her name had ever been spoken aloud between them.

Severus raised an eyebrow when the silence dragged.

Regulus glanced in the direction of the window; "The Learning Centre has been relocated out onto the grounds, now that it has expanded. In the Tonks Facility. I have already spoken with Lily; security is just as tight, if not tighter, getting into that building than it is getting into here. I can see to it that further measures are introduced, if you wish it. But Lily seemed happy enough with them as they are now."

"I know. She told me of your conversation. It was something far more simple that concerned me; what if she were to see me?"

"How could she possibly? Unless you're planning on introducing portions practice to five year olds?"

"She has eyes, Regulus."

"And can they see through walls? Just make sure you're indoors during their recess periods and there's no chance of it. Even if you were to go onto the grounds, stick to the east."

Severus lowered his eyes, bringing his hands together and pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips.

Regulus had thought of everything.

And he was right.

The Dark Lord would, undoubtedly, send someone into this place. One of his own in here, amongst them, with Lily, his daughter. It would certainly be better if that person were himself, for to be connected to Harry Potter in any way was dangerous enough in itself, even without anyone's knowledge of their connection to him.

Severus sighed, looking up and meeting the sparkling eyes of his friend – who knew, by now, that he had succeeded in convincing him – but he didn't concede defeat. Not yet.

"You do understand what you're asking, Regulus. You know what the Dark Lord will want me to do."

"Better you than someone else. We have the chance to get ahead of him, here. Make sure the information he's receiving is what we want him to know. Or not, as the case may have it."

Severus pursed his lips together.

Regulus grinned, knowing his victory was close.

"Let's do it, Sev. You know that we can."

Severus met his eyes.

The only answer needed was a smile.

* * *

" _Working here_?"

Lily was as shocked as Severus expected when he told her, Regulus having dispatched him into the empty office next door – now his newly assigned office – with the information that he would find her there, waiting for him.

"Do you object? I made it clear to Regulus that my acceptance was contingent on yours."

"Well, I mean…of course I wouldn't _object._ I just…well, all this time you've kept your distance from the Foundation and from Regulus, saying that it would be damaging to your standing when Voldemort comes back. You've always said it was too risky. What's changed?"

"Nothing has changed. But the time passed has been long enough to convince him that Regulus was certain of my loyalty to him following his defection."

"And now he's to be not so certain?"

"I have used my powers of manipulation to convince him otherwise."

"And you think he'd buy that?"

Severus shrugged; "I believe it's possible that I could convince him that Regulus, compassionate and kind hearted as he is, could be easily taken in by the pleas of a former close friend. He has demonstrated a certain naïve faith in mankind by creating the Foundation in the first place, after all, and this very day has even saw fit to open it up indiscriminately, allowing access to the Dark Lord's followers, themselves."

"And what if he doesn't believe it?"

"Well. Then I shall be killed outright, I imagine."

"Right. Not risky at all, then."

"Of course, there is the fact that he doubted my loyalties prior to his demise as it is. And Regulus rightly pointed out that hiding in the Castle under Dumbledore's protection in the intermittent years has done nothing to increase my worthiness to him when he does return. I am as useful to him as those who have spent the time rotting in Azkaban. Only their loyalties will not be under scrutiny."

"It sounds as if you've already made up your mind."

"Only if you agree."

Lily drew in a breath, glancing away and seeming to think on it, but only for a moment, before she looked at him, raising her shoulders in concession; "If you think that it's the best way?"

"I do."

"Alright."

Severus almost grinned.

Almost.

Before he could even ponder or find any enjoyment at the decision, that he should be returning to the Foundation once more within mere weeks – should the proposal pass the Headmaster's critical decision – Lily went on, informing him of the reason for her message that he meet with her that day.

That her son was somehow, possibly, sensing the presence of the Dark Lord through his scar in the same way that Severus did through his Mark send chills through him.

"Is it possible, Severus? Could he have done something that night? Something that connected them?"

"I don't know. It is unheard of, as far as I'm aware. Something of that magnitude, the linking of two or more beings in any form, it requires great focus. Perhaps the Dark Lord is powerful enough to do so without meaning to, but that indicates a lack of control that I doubt he would be overwhelmed by."

"Even as he was about to die?"

Severus was more than a little bewildered by it. In what way could the boy possibly be linked; "Perhaps it has something to do with the magic evoked by Black's death?"

"In what way?"

"I can't be certain without looking into it further. Give me some time. I'll learn what I can. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore –"

"No don't…don't go to him, if you can help it."

"Lily."

Severus almost sighed. Her distrust of the Headmaster with regards to her son – or anything, for that matter – was a constant source of tension between them, since long before the boy had even been marked.

"If anyone can shed answers on matters such as this, it is Dumbledore. You know that."

"I don't want him using this as a way to get to him, to Voldemort."

"He wouldn't do that. The safety of the Hogwarts pupils is paramount to him."

"Harry isn't just one of his pupils, Severus."

Severus drew in a breath; "I will try to learn what I can. But if I come up short, the best chance at discovering what it is that's going on here is through Dumbledore."

Lily nodded; "Okay. If you must, then yes. But before that, just look, okay? Maybe ask Regulus what he thinks, now that you're to be seeing him again."

"I'd hope to have any information well before I resume work back here."

Lily smiled, reassured by the statement, before she glanced at the timepiece and took a step backwards; "I better go. I told the boys I'd be back by four."

"The boys? Where's Grace?"

"She's with them."

"You left her under their care?"

Lily shot him a look, no doubt amused at his seeming overprotectiveness; "He's almost fourteen, Severus. They're just at the house. Petunia had been watching me at home since she was twelve."

"Oh, how comforting. To know your parents left you in such capable hands."

Lily grinned, giving him a warm look, but she didn't approach him, it was risky enough if they were spotted simply talking to one another. But to actually be seen _together,_ both knew they would never risk it.

And so Lily left through the main door, while Severus took the adjourning one that led through to Regulus' office, half expecting him to still be there, waiting for Lily's response, but he wasn't. No doubt he had returned to the festivities, and so Severus waited a few minutes until a long enough time had passed that if anyone who had spotted Lily in the hallway were to see him leaving, also, it would be not set off any suspicions that they had actually been together.

Severus returned to the ballroom, quickly catching sight of Regulus, who had returned to their previously gathered group from earlier and made his way across, telling him with a simple nod as Regulus met his eyes that the proposal was a done deal.

Regulus broke into a grin, and by the time Severus reached them, had finished up telling the old colleagues of the new development.

"Brilliant!" Butterman raised a glass at him.

"Oh, it'll be wonderful to have you back with us, Severus," Heart said with a smile.

Oh, wouldn't it just.

Despite what Lily had just told him about her son, and his concerns over what it could mean, Severus couldn't help the little flutter of pleasure he felt at knowing he would soon be able to be back here again, surrounded by grown men and women once more, rather than the constant prattle of bickering, disobedient school children.

Already, he felt as if a darkness had lifted, as if he truly had been stuck in the dungeons all this time, just biding his time until the Dark Lord returned.

Because, that's what he _had_ been doing. Biding his time. Lost in fantasies of how things could be, once it was all over, and he could finally have Lily, their daughter, her son. Waiting for the war to start once more, so that it could finally end.

But any happiness, any joy Severus felt as he stood there, surrounded by the chatter and banter of his old colleagues – soon to be his current ones, once more – was quickly driven from him by the little voice that he loved most in the world.

A voice that should never be heard by him, not ever, outside of the safety of their own home.

"Daddy!"


	43. April 1994: In Plain Sight

This was not fun.

Grace blew the strands of hair from her face, glancing around the function room. It was filled with old people. Not another child in sight anymore, all outside having fun, and even Harry and Malachi were boring today, hardly speaking with her at all except to tell her to keep up and keep quiet.

They were at it again, talking on and on and on about 'Death Eaters', whatever that was, and something about Malachi's dad as well, as they huddled once more beneath Harry's invisibility cloak.

Grace shuffled back and forth on her feet, sighing and looking longingly out at the grounds where she knew the fairground was still set up.

Rowdy laughter drew her attention towards a larger group in the middle of the room.

"Look, it's almost four. We better get back or my Mum'll start asking where we were. I mean, it hasn't been a total bust, has it?"

"Yeah, let's just go."

Harry took Grace by the hand, urging her towards the exit awkwardly as he avoided stepping on her heels, not nearly enough room to move underneath the fabric.

And then Grace saw him.

Her dad was with Mr Black, Malachi's dad – she didn't know they were friends! – and the group that were shouting and laughing, they were in there with them.

Grace abruptly halted, causing her brother to run into her back.

"Grace, wha –"

"Look, Harry," Grace turned to face him, before excitedly turning back in her dad's direction and pointing at the group nearby; "It's Daddy!"

"What?"

"That's Daddy!"

Harry frowned and then glanced in the direction she indicated.

After a second he rolled his eyes, trying to urge her forward; "Aw, come on, Grace, we don't have time for this just now."

"That's Daddy!" she repeated, insistently.

She hadn't seen her Daddy for so long, she wanted to go to him. And Harry had said he wanted to meet him, he could meet him now!

"Who is she talking about?" Malachi asked, stepping in closer behind them and glancing curiously towards the middle of the room.

"I dunno. Snape, I think."

Snape. Was that Daddy's name?

" _Professor Snape?"_

Grace looked up sharply at Malachi's tone. It was almost a screech. And when she did he was looking at the middle of the room with a wicked smile quickly spreading across his face.

And then he started to laugh.

He laughed and laughed and laughed, until his eyes started watering, and Harry hissed at him to be quiet.

"Oh, please let it be true!" Malachi squeaked out between guffaws.

"You're such a dick, sometimes!" Harry shoved him, though he was smiling too now, and then he was laughing. They were _both_ laughing as if they had just heard the funniest joke they had ever heard in their lives.

And Grace was so mad because she quickly realised that they were laughing at _her._

That they didn't believe her.

She'd show them!

Grace flung the fabric from her head, revealing herself to the room, and stormed off in her father's direction.

"Daddy!"

* * *

Severus could hear her.

Oh, hell, could he hear her.

It took every shred of self-control he had ever exerted not to move, not to react in any way to the voice of his daughter as she called to him from across the room – thank, Merlin, it was from across the room – but he could see her, now, out the corner of his eye and she was approaching, quickly.

"Certainly, we could use your input on Project Cassidy if you didn't already have an initiative of your own in mind –" Littlewood was saying, as Severus looked directly at him and nodded, feigning interest as he took a drink of his firewhiskey, if only to calm his rattling nerves.

"Daddy."

Grace's voice again and Regulus reacted, that time, looking in her direction sharply.

He was not the only one.

And, suddenly, as if appearing from nowhere, Severus could see Potter and Malachi close behind her, near enough that he could hear their voices, also.

"Grace, get back here."

"Let her go, Harry, I wanna see what he says."

There was laughter in their voices, as if this was all incredibly amusing.

It was anything but amusing.

Stupid, _stupid_ boys.

Grace was oh-so-close, she would be on him in seconds, and that would be it.

It would be over.

Everything was unravelling before his eyes. All they had done, everything he and Lily had put themselves through, as well as any other who had been unfortunate enough to be caught up in it, within seconds it would all be for nothing. Years of concealment, of lies, of deceit, everything he had convinced himself would pay off, would be worth it in the end, all about to come undone.

And he was helpless to stop it.

"Regulus."

Severus grasped for the only lifeline he possibly could.

It was quiet, a desperate plea simply breathed out as he turned as subtly as he could in his direction.

It was enough.

Regulus moved instantly.

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss Grace Potter."

Regulus swept her up into his arms with a flourish and took several steps back in the direction Grace had come as he did so.

All whom Severus still stood with looked.

In fact, everyone in the near vicinity looked.

He was forced to, as well, if only to keep up appearances; it would seem strange to any observers if he _didn't._

Regulus had his back to him and Severus could barely even see Grace, now, as Regulus made the conscious effort to hold her in such a way that she could no longer see him, either, though she obviously still knew that he was there.

"Cornelia, another drink?" He noticed her glass was empty and didn't wait until she responded before setting off to fetch another.

As well as a double for himself.

* * *

Malachi could barely contain his chuckles as they hurried after Grace, wiping the tears of laughter from his face.

Severus as Grace's father.

Oh, he could only just imagine.

Harry's sister was so funny, sometimes, and her stories were always entertaining but this, _this,_ was absolutely hysterical. Malachi couldn't think of anyone that could possibly horrify Harry more as a candidate for her father other than Voldemort himself!

His amusement was snuffed out almost instantly, however, when his own father appeared, as if from nowhere, and swept Grace up into his arms.

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss Grace Potter."

He took several steps in their direction as he said it until he was standing almost right in Malachi's face and the look he shot him in that moment was murderous. Malachi didn't think he had ever seen his dad look so furious in his life.

But before Malachi could respond, offer up some sort of apology or explanation, his dad had turned back to Grace with a smile; "And what are you doing all the way out here at the Foundation, Grace?"

"Harry brought me. We were spying."

"Spying, eh? On who?"

"On you!"

"On me?"

"Yep!"

Malachi almost groaned out loud at the brutal honesty.

"Doesn't sound like much fun."

"It wasn't. But it wasn't a total bust!" Grace repeated Harry's words, to both their mortification.

"Is that right?" His dad was chuckling; "And have you been here all day?"

"All day!" Grace said it with over-dramatic vexation in her tone, entirely oblivious to the fact that she was seriously ratting them out here and no way in hell was she ever getting to come with them anywhere, ever again, if he had anything to say about it.

"Just as I thought," his dad said, still smiling widely at her; "Well, I suppose if you've been following me around all day then you won't have had a chance to see the fairground yet."

"We did. But just a little."

"Come on. Let's have another go, shall we?"

"But, I wanted to see Daddy," Grace said, trying to look over his dad's shoulder, and he turned, looking in an entirely different direction from where he had come.

"Well, I should like to meet him, but I hear there's owls outside for petting too, if that takes your fancy instead?"

Grace perked up; "Owls? And I can touch them?"

"Sure can."

Grace made a show of thinking about it, before she smiled and nodded; "Okay, Mr Black."

His dad grinned, placing her back on her feet, and nudged her with one hand in the direction of the exit; "Lead the way, Miss Potter."

Grace hurried in that direction, Harry following behind, and Malachi made to follow too – foolish enough to hope that was it for now – but a hand swiftly clamped down on his shoulder, preventing him from moving, and his dad leaned in close, face inches from his once more, speaking lowly and looking directly at him with so much fury that Malachi shied back.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Malachi, but another foot out of line and, so help me, you will never again see the light of day before you come of age. Do you understand me?"

Malachi swallowed, nodding and saying nothing; he daren't say anything in that moment. His dad looked ready to explode.

Instead of doing so, he simply nodded in the direction that Harry and Grace had gone and Malachi quickly set off to follow, his dad close on his heels.

* * *

Harry liked Regulus Black a lot.

That wasn't why he thought it, though.

That wasn't the reason the truth, the obvious truth, came to him so suddenly while they stood in the fairground; the three of them out there with Malachi's dad and they had spent a good ten minutes just letting Grace talk to and pet the various owls that had been brought in for the Fling.

Mr Black stayed with them the entire time, his attention focused almost solely on his little sister, with the exception of the odd few disappointed glances he shot Malachi's way when she was suitably distracted.

Harry still couldn't get his head around the very real possibility that this man had been a Death Eater. He was so good with her, smiling and kind and gentle, humorous comments popping up here and there to make her giggle.

It was so obvious.

And when Mr Black had finally announced that he should have to return to the 'painful duties of hosting', he had dispatched them to his office where they were to wait – no room for argument there – they were to wait there until his mum came to collect them. And stay away from the windows.

Harry's eyes had almost immediately settled on it; that hideous scarf he had seen his mum holding the night he had come home from Hogwarts last week, lying innocuously upon Mr Black's desk.

And, then, he just _knew_.

"It's your dad!" Harry announced, turning wide eyes upon Malachi.

"What?"

"Your dad. _He's_ Grace's father."

Malachi looked sceptical, shaking his head; "I don't think so."

"Come on, it's so obvious. Did you see the way he grabbed her back there? He couldn't shut her up fast enough."

"My dad would tell me if I had a sister, Harry."

"Maybe not. Not if what my mum's saying is true and if it _is_ your dad then it would be. We know he was a Death Eater, now, and, you know, there's everything else too. All the stuff that he does to protect you. Maybe it's the same for Grace."

Malachi just looked at Grace, uncertainly, at where she was standing with her nose pressed against the window, looking out at the festivities.

He looked back at Harry; "But my dad and your mum? I don't see it."

"They were both really messed up back then. About what happened to Uncle Sirius, remember? Mum got pregnant right after that. Maybe they…"

Harry broke off, suddenly feeling grossed out; yeah, he didn't really want to think much on that particular maybe.

But, brushing all technicalities aside, it made so much sense that he was astounded that they hadn't connected the dots together before.

Harry felt himself getting excited, as it all came together in his mind; ""I mean, look how your dad is with _me._ He always talks to me and he's always inviting me out places with you two, he lets me come to your house and he's one of the only people who gets to come to ours, even with the Fidelius protecting us all. So they trust one another with us, their kids, why? The only other people who get to know where we are are Uncle Remus and Julia. Even Professor Dumbledore doesn't know!"

"But Grace doesn't know him as 'Dad'," Malachi pointed out.

"Because it has to be a secret. If they can't tell me, they can't tell her, either."

Malachi grinned and Harry knew right away what he was going to say; "She said it was Professor Snape, mind."

Harry scoffed, almost shuddering at the thought; "Yeah right."

"He used to work here too, don't you remember? With my dad."

"First of all, what's dangerous about it being Snape? And second, you really think my Mum would tell Grace who her dad is but not _me_? Blabber mouth here, she couldn't be trusted to keep anything secret."

"Yeah, about that, I thought you said she'd be no bother? She just told my dad everything! Now he's going to want to know why I've been spying on him all day."

"Good, then you can finally just ask him about it. And ask him about Grace, as well."

"I'm not asking him that," Malachi shook his head; "He's not her dad."

"Look, this is my mum's scarf here, see."

"They both work here, she probably just left it after a meeting or something."

"Too much of a coincidence. And look, he's got it all folded up nice and everything for her."

"So?"

" _So_."

"So, what, now you think my dad is Grace's dad and that this folded scarf means he's in love with your mum and they're having a secret affair behind our backs?"

It sounded ridiculous when said out loud.

"Maybe."

Malachi rolled his eyes; "Grace isn't the only one with a crazy imagination."

Harry could say nothing more to convince him of the case, for at that moment the door to the office opened and his mum stepped into the room.

She did not look happy.

"Mummy," Grace went over to her with a smile, "I got to touch the owls, Mummy."

"Did you?" His mum gave a tight smile, giving her a one-armed hug when Grace reached her side and held her close.

"I saw Daddy, too."

"You did?"

"Yeah. He was with his friends."

Harry watched his mum closely as Grace spoke and his mum, while making a good show of humouring her, could not conceal the fact that she was not only uncomfortable, but also uneasy, almost looking upset as she only nodded at his sister and drew her closer, before turning her eyes on her son.

Harry had expected her to be furious, in the way Malachi's dad had been.

Instead, she just looked tired. And Harry could have sworn there was even guilt there as she spoke his name, the only thing she said, to indicate that he leave with her.

Harry shot Malachi a look of farewell, and then headed over, and his mum frowned as he reached her, realising what he had in his hands.

"Is that my…"

He looked down at it, the offending scarf that had given them away, and then he looked at her and nodded, holding it out to her; "Yeah. I found it."

His mum took it, looking bewildered, but she said no more, simply tugged on Grace's arm and took her hand and headed from the room.

Harry followed, surer than ever, that the big secret as to Grace's paternity had finally been revealed.

* * *

"That boy is out of control!"

Never before had their circumstances been more frustrating. With the Fling falling just as the weekend was beginning and Potter still at home for the holidays – and grounded, of course – it meant that it was the beginning of the following week before Severus had finally managed to get Lily alone.

The days of reflection had done nothing to calm him down.

Severus was just as livid as the moment it had happened.

"He didn't know what he was doing. As far as he knew, he was just sneaking out with his friend for the day."

Lily was taking the incident with both enviable and foolish calmness, or so she was trying to lead him to believe, for both of them knew exactly what was at stake here and how close they had come to losing it all.

"Do not make excuses for him, Lily. Don't even try. I was almost exposed in front of hundreds of people – highly influential people, I might add, from both sides of this war. This could have utterly destroyed everything that we have been working towards for _years_."

"If he knew the stakes. If we told him the truth –"

"Oh. Don't even go there. That boy has just proven that he is incapable of following even the most basic of safety instructions – he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, walking into that place, at the very least he knew it was dangerous for Malachi, and yet he decided to go anyway. And to take Grace with him! A four-year-old child! And now you speak of the _truth_. I would not trust him with the safety of a goldfish, nevermind something of that magnitude."

"You're not being fair, Severus. Harry doesn't know any of this. How can we expect him to conduct himself the way we need him to if he doesn't know why?"

"You told him not to go, that ought to be enough. Does the boy have no respect, whatsoever?"

"Stop calling him that."

"What?"

"'That boy'. He has a name."

"Potter, then."

"Harry."

Severus sighed, turning away, his fury still brimming and he didn't want Lily telling him to calm down, play nice, show respect when her son had just demonstrated the most blatant and damaging form of disrespect he had ever experienced from him.

"Do you realise what he's done? You've surely heard by now?"

"Yes, I've heard," Lily conceded.

What they had heard, of course, was just wonderful.

Severus' cover had managed to emerge unscathed, yes.

The same could not be said for Grace.

The entire incident had occurred in the most public, inappropriate place imaginable, and whispers very quickly began making the rounds that a little girl had come running into the room calling for her father, only to be immediately swept from her feet by none other than Regulus Black, himself.

What could this mean?

Well, it was obvious.

"He took our daughter to the Foundation, where perhaps every influential wizarding figure was present and, in doing so, has managed to trigger the beginnings of a rumour that Regulus Black is her father. Who, it goes without saying, is perhaps the only person in the world _worse_ than the truth of it being me! Indeed, the only thing that makes the two situations different is that Regulus' defection has already been revealed. This is about as bad as it could get for Grace!"

"Rumours, Severus."

"With Regulus' reputation and you working there, it is entirely plausible. These assumptions are not going to go away quickly.

And yet you stand there acting as if _I_ am the one who is being unreasonable. That – Pott – _Harry_ has just put Grace into one of the most dangerous positions imaginable; there is a reason Malachi cannot go outside of the house without a chaperone."

Lily only nodded, not looking at him as he did.

"That is something that cannot go unpunished."

"He is being punished."

"A simple grounding doesn't add up. Not even close. He is up there right now, entirely unaware of the damage he has just wrought, no doubt concocting – "

"Will you listen to what you're saying? Yes, he is up there, right now, _entirely unaware._ We understand the damage, yes, but Harry has no idea about any of this. So, what do you want me to do? What do you want me to say to him? Because, in his eyes, Harry has done far, far worse than sneaking out to the Foundation – a place that I have _always_ insisted is safe for him – just to meet a celebrity."

Severus pursed his lips together.

Lily shook her head; "It's not just Harry's decisions that've brought us here, Severus."

The reason for Lily's seeming calmness was suddenly clear. Lily did not blame Potter for what had happened.

She blamed herself. And him.

 _They_ had put Potter, and Grace, into the positions they now found themselves. And yet, both remained entirely in the dark to the fact, because that was the way he and Lily had chosen to do this.

Severus looked away, clarity washing over him and leaving him cold.

When he looked back at her, this time, the culpability in her eyes was so blatant he did not know how he had possibly missed it.

He drew in a breath, deflated; "You're right. It should never have happened the way that it did," he shook his head, glancing away; "Grace should never have known me."

"Severus –"

"Don't backtrack now, Lily, we both know it's the truth. We've discussed it numerous times since before she was even born. It wasn't safe."

Severus turned away, walking towards the window of the shed he had lured Lily out to, peering carefully back at the house where they were, Grace and Potter, tucked up safely in bed – as safe as they could ever be, now, and oblivious to what they would soon be facing.

Their children.

Children whom he and Lily could not expect to bear the burdens of their mistakes.

He sighed, turning back to her; "We only have two choices here, Lily. I know what you want to do. I know how you've been struggling with it; with Harry," he shook his head, wishing it were different, but it wasn't. They weren't even close to that yet; "But he's not ready."

"He may surprise you."

"That's not a risk I'm willing to take. This is our daughter's life. This is finally defeating the Dark Lord once and for all. This is our family, our home, and we can't put that into the hands of a thirteen-year-old boy, no matter how unjust keeping him in the dark may seem. It is too much and the consequences of failure are too great."

Lily shook her head and he could already see the glimmer in her eyes, as she realised where he was going with this. Because if they couldn't tell Potter the truth, if they couldn't follow through on this, then there really was only one other choice here and both of them had been avoiding it for far too long now.

"We've always said that when the time comes, if it got too dangerous –" Severus stopped, he would not go on patronising her with the reasoning, he knew she knew the how and why of it all.

"I have to go, Lily."

Lily's voice was quiet, a tremor in it as she offered up a feeble protest that she knew wouldn't change anything; "It's too late, she already knows you."

Severus glanced back out the window, at the house, up at the drawn curtains of his daughter's bedroom and it could break him, the words that he spoke next, though he knew, without doubt, that this was the way it had to be.

"She'll forget."

Lily crumbled then, hand going to her forehead as her head dipped down, and Severus knew the tears were there, even if she shielded them, and he stepped forward, taking her in his arms.

He pressed his lips to her hair and just held her, let this be for a moment, because although they had discussed this, although it had always been the plan, it had come upon them now so suddenly, so unexpectedly that they were entirely unprepared for what was about to happen.

The crumbling of their house of cards, the playing house, the family life they had told themselves was completely normal, completely right; it was all over. And Severus could not return home, now, until this war was finally _done_ , and both knew that would not be soon. Certainly, not nearly soon enough.

It seemed as if every word, every warning Severus had given her before this all started, so long ago, had now come back to haunt them as he held her in his arms.

But he could not be weak. He had been so, long enough. What had happened with Potter and Grace, there could be no more mistakes like that.

Severus leaned down, encouraging Lily to meet his eyes; "Are you with me on this?"

She needed to be. He couldn't possibly walk out that door otherwise. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't.

The sadness, the defeat in her eyes went straight through him, but the love was there too, just as it always was, when she looked at him and she needn't answer, he already knew; "I'm always with you, Severus."

He swallowed and then leaned down, kissing her deeply, and tried to pour it all into that one act, all the regret and wishing and love that he felt for her. And when drawing back he didn't go far, touching his forehead to hers; "I'll be back at the Foundation within the month. It will be easy for us to see one another, should we need to."

Lily gave a small smile and a hopeless shrug, shaking her head; "I always need you."

"Likewise."

Were they really going to draw this out with endearments and platitudes? Would it make it easier if he were to fall to his knees there and then and make a pact, swear that he'd take her away when this was all over and make her his wife and her children, their children, his and theirs.

Lily knew all of this. She knew that they were it for him. What he was fighting for. Even as he turned away.

Would it all be worth it, in the end?

He could only hope it would.

Both knew as he walked away from her, left the grounds of their home for the last time, that he may never come back. The war may never end.

One, or both, may not even be around to see it if it did.

But he knew, without doubt, that he couldn't stay. Not now.

For all the lies, all the deception, the self-control and the fighting that he had done since the day that damn prophecy had made its meaning known to him; since this all began, nothing had been more difficult for him than this, this moment, when he walked out the door.

And with one last, long look at where he had left Lily in the shed and then up at the bedroom of his daughter, he drew in a breath, committing it all to memory, hoping it would not be the last one, and disapparated.

Leaving his home and family behind.

* * *

It was almost eleven.

Malachi wondered if there was even any point in getting out of bed.

He was _'grounded, grounded, grounded'_ , following his and Harry's discovery at the Fling – not that his out-of-house recreation options were all that vast to begin with – and he really had no wish to go down to the living room and spend his incarceration under the watchful eye of his dad, who had been hovering over him constantly whenever he could since he had come home at the start of the holidays.

Just a few more days and he would be back at Hogwarts and he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do.

When he had been at school, he had been desperate to get back home. To get back and confront his dad over his new discovery and demand the truth from him.

Since actually coming face to face with him, Malachi had been desperate to get back to school.

He wanted his dad to say it was all rubbish, no way was this true, and to put Malachi's doubts to rest once and for all.

But Malachi knew that wasn't what was going to happen.

He _knew._

And if he knew, now, did he really need his dad to come out and say it?

Maybe he could just leave it be.

The door to his bedroom burst open and his dad walked purposefully into the room, flicking his wand in the direction of the windows and the curtains flew open, the sunlight suddenly blinding him and causing him to flinch.

"Get up."

His dad strode on by the bed, to the dresser, pulling it open and gathering up clothes; "You're not spending another minute in this bedroom."

He walked up to the bed and Malachi peered up at him through bleary eyes.

"Get washed up, put on these –" he tossed the clothes onto the bed; "and be downstairs in twenty minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"Quidditch game, or had you forgotten?"

"Oh. I thought I was grounded."

"Yes. Grounded, in reverse, for you seem to be enjoying your solitude just a little too much these days. A full day with your father, for your sins."

"Is Harry still coming?"

"Ha. My son, the comedian."

His dad strode from the room without a backwards glance; "Twenty minutes."

* * *

It wasn't until after the situation with Potter and Grace had been dealt with, after he and Lily had finally followed through on their long-planned separation, that Severus finally went to the Headmaster's office to regale him of his and Regulus' intentions.

He knew, going there, it would not take much convincing to get the older wizard on board.

"It is an ambitious strategy. Nothing less than I would expect from you two. Of course, if you'd like to proceed then I would be happy to make some adjustments to the class scheduling going forward to accommodate your new commitments."

"I do. What reasons would I have to refuse?"

"Well, there is only so much one or, indeed, two men can do. Time constraints are the blight of even the most committed of souls."

"Time? I have plenty of it. Other than brewing and the odd detention, there is little that occupies my free time as is."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled then and Severus almost scowled. Almost. But he held it back. Of course, the Headmaster was entirely aware of where it was that Severus had been sneaking off to in the evenings for the past several years and, of course, he had no doubt as to the paternity of Grace Potter. He never said as much, for which Severus was grateful.

He just got _that_ look.

And it was a look Severus would rather not see, at present moment, for it pained him to remember what it was he had just lost.

Dumbledore elaborated further when Severus did not; "For now, yes. Though need I remind you that you have private lessons with Harry Potter beginning only next week?"

"You needn't," Severus said, glancing away.

How could he possibly forget, after all?

"Certainly, if yourself and Regulus are confident that this is a strategy you can successfully carry out then I shall go ahead and make the arrangements."

The delight Severus had been feeling at the prospect of returning to the Foundation had not yet been reignited, following the disastrous events that had taken place immediately in the aftermath of his and Regulus' discussion. And with the situation that had unfolded with Lily and Grace in the aftermath still weighing heavily upon him he knew he was hardly 'on the ball', so to speak, when it came to his ponderings on matters outside of their home life.

Even then, he could quite easily pick up on the blatant scepticism in the Headmaster's statement.

"Is there a particular reason you feel we would not be successful, Albus?"

"Only that I fear the reality of it may prove too much."

"I have spied for you for years and now you doubt my abilities?"

"Not yours, Severus."

Severus drew in a breath, eyeing him; "You doubt Regulus?"

"Come now, Severus, there's no need to sound so offended on his behalf. I just cannot help but be concerned that, should the situation arise where a difficult decision has to be made, will your friend have the resolve necessary to do what is needed to be done to carry it through?"

"You're referring to the incident at the Department of Mysteries, I presume."

"Indeed."

"You'll have to forgive me for not holding it against him, that he was not willing to let Lily Potter die to maintain our deception."

"Ah, there we have it. We all have our weaknesses and we are both well aware of what Regulus Black's are."

"You act as if he has something to be ashamed of."

"Not at all, Severus. There are few who would be able to do what is necessary in such a situation."

"You're thinking that Regulus would not be willing to let anyone die to protect my cover."

"Quite so."

"In this matter, we agree. I shall just have to see it doesn't come to that."

"Such things cannot be avoided, I'm afraid, not under these circumstances, and should you find yourself in such a position it is more than just a trusted post within the Foundation that would be lost."

Severus considered the Headmaster's words for a moment before he nodded; "I understand. As said, I will ensure it does not come to that."

"Well then, if you are so determined, I'll set about making the arrangements. It has happened at quite the opportune time, really, now that Professor Lupin has agreed to remain with us following the summer. That should relieve you of some of your responsibilities within the Castle. I am sure he will be quite happy to carry on providing the suitable distractions he has been carrying out with Harry these past few months."

"Ah, indeed? I was under the impression that it was not the choice of the Defence teachers whether or not they are able to stay, rather that of someone else."

"It seems, with the careful study of the protections placed upon Regulus' gathered horcruxes, the enchantments which have plagued that particular post for all these years have finally been identified. I suppose it is not entirely guaranteed, we shall have to wait until the end of the school year to be certain, but I am quite confident that Remus will be returning to us for another year at Hogwarts."

Severus lifted his eyes skywards; "I couldn't be more thrilled, Headmaster."

"Just as I thought, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled.

Severus stood, exchanging farewells, and heading from the office; making his way down to his own in the dungeons and busying himself with whatever tasks and preparations he could find, given it was still the holidays and there was little in the way of distractions.

Anything he could find that would stop his mind from wondering; back to that little house, where he'd left them both behind.

* * *

Malachi laughed.

His son was _laughing._

Regulus only just held back the sigh of relief at the sight. His son, finally, making himself known once more, past the miserable exterior that he had been displaying ever since his return from school.

Regulus laughed as well, delighted by the change, wrapping an arm around Malachi's shoulders, and cheering as their team wracked up further points out on the field.

Regulus had had enough.

He could not stand by, allow precious time with his son to waste away any longer, not when he was certain – despite his own reasonings and Severus' assurances – that something was very wrong.

Even as a boy, a much younger boy, when Regulus' appearances in his life had been sporadic, at best, his son had never shut him out in this way. There had never been this distance.

Regulus was no expert at parenting – his own were hardly shining examples – but he had always done his best to ensure his son knew he could come to him about anything, without fear of judgement. It was honesty he relied on, to get him through the challenges, the demands of it all, and so when Malachi began to shut himself up in his bedroom for days-on-end, along with the ensuing 'grounding' which proved more frustrating to himself than it was to his son, Regulus couldn't _not_ act.

And so Regulus had brought him here, only half-joking when he had claimed to his son that a day in his presence would be punishment enough, hoping that he might manage to ignite a spark that would either return his son back to his usual self or at least encourage and reassure him enough that he would turn and reveal what it was that was troubling him.

It did both, as it so happened, the reason for his son's behaviour unexpectedly making itself known upon arrival back at home that evening.

"Dinner. You're up!"

" _What_? I don't know how to make dinner!"

"All part of your new life-skills course."

"What about Kreacher? He'll be angry if I do his job."

"Oh, don't you worry about Kreacher, my kind-hearted son, I'm sure he'll be able to bear the disappointment."

"Am I ever gonna stop being punished?"

"For spying on your dear old dad? I'll let you know when the suitable price has been paid."

Malachi rolled his eyes but he was still smiling, still his boy, as he walked on by and pulled open the cooling box to look at the meal options available.

"Do you want a sandwich?" he offered.

"I was thinking a roast."

"Food poisoning it is!"

Regulus chuckled, beyond delighted at his son's change in demeanour, and made his way to the pile of letters he had tossed onto the counter earlier that day for later perusal.

He was only just opening the first envelope when Malachi approached, a loaf of bread and wrapped foils of meat in hand.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Were you a Death Eater?"

Regulus ceased in his moments, eyes snapping back to his son's face.

Malachi simply looked back at him, the picture of childhood innocence, completely trusting, and Regulus found he couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

"Yes."

Malachi frowned.

It wasn't surprise, no, Regulus could see that, realising that his son had already been sure of the answer before asking. Rather, he seemed thrown at the blunt admittance.

"You're not even going to deny it?"

"It's not a secret, Malachi."

Regulus folded the envelope, dropping it back onto the counter; "I went to trial."

"I know."

Regulus squinted; _he_ was the one to be surprised in this conversation, it seemed.

Malachi swallowed, averting his eyes as he elaborated, speaking quietly; "The case collapsed when they couldn't get enough evidence. No witnesses came forward."

Regulus would be impressed if the subject matter was not so grave.

"You've been reading up."

Malachi met his eyes, only giving the slightest of nods.

"Why didn't you just come to me?"

Malachi's lip trembled then and Regulus could see the glimmer in his eyes and, Merlin, it broke his heart to see it; "I didn't know what to say."

Regulus released a breath, before he nodded, all that had been going on since his son's return from Hogwarts finally making sense.

He indicated at the stools tucked beneath the counter, pulling one out for himself and sitting down. Malachi did as he asked, stepping around and taking the one next to him.

Regulus dipped his chin to look at him, waited until his son's reluctant eyes met his before he spoke.

"Son, you can ask me anything."

Malachi's eyes flitted back and forth between his, so open and vulnerable and frightened, his voice quiet, as if he were still afraid to ask; "Why?"

It was both the simplest and most difficult question he could possibly ask.

Regulus hesitated, glancing away for a second as he tried to get his head around it all, everything he had tried to forget, to push aside, to bury in the darkest corners of his mind; his family and all that had led to that day when he knelt before the Dark Lord and pledged himself, his life and his soul to his cause.

He looked back at his son, who waited patiently, with that same uncertain and frightened look in his eyes as he prepared himself for what his father was going to say.

"Okay," Regulus nodded, drawing in a breath; "Okay, we're doing this now." He turned to face him fully and Malachi did the same.

"I grew up in a family that believed that we – wizards and witches – were better than muggles and anyone associated with them. Muggleborns, half-bloods, they were all beneath us. They believed that they were the reason for all the problems we wizards faced, currently and in the future."

"What kind of problems?"

"Well. There was the Statute, first of all. That's the law that requires we keep ourselves hidden."

"To protect ourselves from them? The muggles?"

"Yes. My family, and many others, didn't agree with it. They thought that we, with our abilities, ought to be the ones who ruled and that it was the muggles who should adapt to _our_ way of life, rather than us to theirs."

Malachi looked contemplative at the statement; "But, what did that have to do with the muggleborns and half-bloods? They have magical powers. Maybe they weren't happy with the Statute, either?"

"Purebloods, those who believed it, said that, by associating with them and having their children, they weakened the case for wizarding supremacy by bending to the wills of the muggles. But it wasn't just the Statute. There were other reasons we were taught to look down on those with muggle blood.

They believed that, with the ever-increasing mixing of purebloods with muggles and muggleborns, half-bloods would become the dominant of the bloodlines with purebloods eventually dying out completely and that this would lead to a weakening of the wizarding community as a whole; our magical abilities, more squibs being born, even saying that muggle diseases would eventually be able to adapt and mutate to affect us. All nonsense, Malachi."

"But…our family, they all believed it?"

"Your Uncle Sirius didn't. Or Auntie Andie. She met Uncle Ted, a muggleborn, that changed things for her."

"But you believed it?"

"Yes, I did."

"So, you went to Voldemort then? To ki…to stop them, the muggles?"

Regulus shook his head slightly, looking down at his hands briefly before going on; "The Dark Lord – don't call him by his name, Malachi, not ever – the Dark Lord, he had an agenda. Or so he claimed. It was said that his plans were to bring the wizards out of hiding, to create a world in which magic could be practised freely; wizarding schools for our children, permissions to practice magic from infancy, more magical events, towns, cities. You name it, he promised it. With the uprising against the muggles and the abolishment of the Statute, he claimed we would take the world back for our own, make our own rules."

"That, uh, sounds…alright?"

Regulus gave a humourless laugh.

"Oh, doesn't it just, Son? It was dragonsh- it was unattainable, and he knew it."

"You don't think he would have abolished it? The Statute?"

"Oh, I'm sure he would have. Not that there would have been much need for one, once he was done."

"So, that's why you joined then? Because, you wanted to live like that? Without having to hide from the muggles?"

"If such a world were possible, we would have it. It has already been tried."

"But if it isn't possible why did you believe him? Why did so many people believe him? You weren't the only person who went to war for him. Harry and me, we've read things. He had so many people fighting for him."

"People believe what they want to believe. And it was not only those who wanted to rule that were drawn to the cause. For some just the magic, the dark, that had a pull, the power it offered. And the Dark Lord, he targeted the weak. The susceptible. It was rarely grown men and women whom he recruited as his Death Eaters. From what I recall, the majority of Death Eaters were initiated while they were still at school."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

"Why did Vold – the Dark – why did he want schoolkids as his Death Eaters? Older wizards, they'd be stronger, wouldn't they?"

"Because with a little life experience any witch or wizard could see the impossibilities of the world that he had proposed. It is easier to convince the young that it will all be worth the cost, in the end. And once you're in; you're in."

"And it wasn't worth it? The cost? To be free from hiding?"

"No."

He could remember it all as if it were yesterday. The searing burn of the summons when he called them through their Marks. The masked faces of his comrades as they surrounded their Lord, praying they would not be called upon next. The faces of Order members as they squared off and fell on the battlefield.

The burning buildings.

The curses.

The screams.

The victims.

Muggles. Muggleborns. Half-bloods. Purebloods. Any who dared to stand in the way.

"Some relished it. The power. Malachi, you wouldn't believe the things…" Regulus broke off, looking away.

 _He_ still couldn't believe the things he had seen.

Regulus drew in a breath, meeting his son's eyes once more, this was not the time for self-pity. No, this was the time that he ensured his son _never_ fell for it; the lies, the promises that he knew his son would hear of, if not by the Dark Lord on his return, then someone else. A threat that, perhaps, had not even revealed themselves yet.

"Son, the Dark Lord was ruthless. He despised muggles with a vehemence I've never seen, even amongst the most fanatical of pureblood supremacists. He was obsessed, almost to the point of lunacy, not for the chance to rule over them, but to _eradicate_ them.

All knew how polarising the issue of blood is among the wizarding circles and with the politics of the Statute and Grindelwald sympathisers biding their time, the Dark Lord knew he would have no shortage of followers by capitalising on them.

It is not only witches and wizards who are bound by it; there are the giants, the werewolves, those cast out by the wizarding community as is, as well as any other thinking, magical being you could think of and most are not so much like muggles as we are, that they would question the chance to live in a world where they could roam freely if only they were eliminated.

The Dark Lord is not the first nor will he be the last to use this knowledge to further his own agenda. And his agenda is simple; world domination. For himself. By any means possible. There was _nothing_ he would not have us do."

Malachi only stared back at him, taking it all in, as Regulus answered the questions he asked with brutal honesty, knowing he could not, would not lie to his son and excuse what had happened back then.

This instant, with his son, was the only time that he had ever spoken openly about any of it.

Malachi lowered his eyes.

Regulus swallowed, watching him carefully, and he wondered if this would forever be the moment he remembered as the one in which he lost his son. He certainly deserved it, expected it even. His son was so _good_ and the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he had finally confronted his father over the truth only asserted that; how different and pure his son was, compared to him.

Malachi reached into his back pocket and pulled out folded up parchment. He unfolded and placed it on the counter beside them.

It was a Daily Prophet front page, himself on the cover, with the article that announced his release so many years before but it wasn't that which drew his concern.

It was the words 'Blood Traitor', that were enchanted across the page, corner to corner, that struck him.

"Who gave you this?"

"Them."

"Who's _them_?"

"The people who knew what you were before I did. I wish you'd told me."

"Do you?"

Malachi looked at him, sadly; "Yeah. Why didn't you? You must've known I'd find out."

Regulus shrugged, shaking his head; "I wanted to keep you a little longer, I suppose."

Malachi looked surprised at his words. The implication that he expected that he had, now, lost him to the truth.

His son slid down from the stool where he sat opposite him. But, instead of walking away, as Regulus expected, Malachi stepped in closer and hugged him. So, so _good,_ just as Regulus had always known that he was, and he gripped him tight and fought the prickle of his own tears, even as he felt his sons against him.

"I'm so sorry, Malachi," he whispered.

Malachi nodded, slowly, not letting up the hold he had of him. If anything it tightened further, and he spoke, quiet and muffled against his clothing.

"I know, Dad."

It was so much more than he deserved and needed to hear.


	44. April 1994: Occlumency

"Hey!"

Harry was beyond happy to finally spot Malachi at the end of the Slytherin table, having been unable to catch any sight at all of him for the past few days since getting back to the Castle.

Malachi smiled, while the Slytherins in the near vicinity glared at him, as they always did whenever he dared to take at seat at their side of the Hall.

"You alright? Did you talk to your dad?"

"Yeah," Malachi nodded, glancing around carefully; "He told me. Everything."

"Yeah? Just like that?"

Malachi nodded, again; "He said I should've just come to him from the start."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't, otherwise we wouldn't have figured out the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"About Grace," Harry dropped his voice to a careful whisper.

Malachi shook his head immediately; "I asked him about that too. He said he's not."

"Well, he would say that, wouldn't he? I asked my mum about it again too, told her I knew it was him. She wasn't happy, and that just made it even more obvious."

"I don't think so, Harry. He just told me the truth about…well, you know. That's way worse than _this._ He tells me stuff. If she was my –" he broke off, looking around again, voice dropping to a barely audible; "- sister, then he'd tell me. I know he would. He wouldn't lie to me."

"He doesn't have a choice," Harry said, insistently; "He has to protect her."

"Well, then, so do we, so be quiet. People are looking."

Harry could tell that Malachi didn't believe him which was frustrating but at least he wasn't reacting in the same defensive way his mum had done, the day before, when he – having had enough of the secret and time ticking until he would no longer get the chance to ask her again for months – had marched downstairs in the middle of packing and just told her, straight out:

"It's Regulus Black. I know he's Grace's dad."

His mum had rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she lowered the parchments she was looking at to her lap; "Harry, don't."

"It's obvious, Mum," he persisted.

His mum tossed the parchments onto the coffee table and stood, turning away from him, looking agitated; "It's only 'obvious' because _you_ made it seem that way. You think you're the only person that thinks it's so 'obvious' after that stunt you pulled?"

His mum hadn't really gotten on at him about it, him sneaking to the Foundation, after they had arrived home. As soon as they got through the door, she had sent him to his room, telling him that he was grounded and when he had made to protest had told him she didn't want to hear it, none of it, just go, and so he had, thrown by the defeated look in his mum's eyes.

He'd known then, that he'd really, really messed up big time and, yeah, he knew why, now that he'd figured out the truth. And yeah, it _wasn't_ just him that it would have been obvious to.

And, of course, he felt terrible about it. But, still, if his mum had just been upfront with him;

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I wasn't even looking, he was just there. If you'd just _told_ me in the first place –"

"Harry, do I really need to tell you why it would be so dangerous for Regulus Black, for someone like him, to actually be Grace's father? Why it would be dangerous for people to know or, even, just _think_ that?"

"Because he was a Death Eater."

His mum was thrown, clearly expecting that she was going to have to either explain or bring up something about Malachi, or Hopkins, or something else, other than the honest truth that he had been a follower of Voldemort once upon a time.

Harry still couldn't get his head around that. How he felt about it. Especially now he knew that they were related. Or, rather, that he was related to his sister. He should be horrified.

But he wasn't.

Mr Black had always treated him kindly.

And, well, his mum had obviously seen something good in him.

"Well, if you know that," his mum went on to say, once the surprise had worn off; "Then you know better than to go around spreading this nonsense. For your sister's sake, if not for your mother's sanity."

His mum ended it with an eyeroll, as she brushed her hair back from her face.

"Look, I get it, I get why no one else can know. But I know now, I figured it out myself, so why can't you just admit it? Don't you trust me?"

"It has nothing to do with trust – Harry, I swear, if I hear anything more about Grace's father, I'm going to explode."

"Mum –"

"Harry."

And that was that. He'd left the next morning with nothing other than his mum's blatant refusal to just admit the truth. He'd hoped that Malachi might have been a bit more successful with his dad – his dad was way less uptight than his mum about the whole parenting thing – but no, he guessed that was a bust too.

Harry shrugged, still convinced, but willing to let it go for the time being. He had other things to be bothered about, now that he was back at Hogwarts.

He tossed over the parchment he was holding for Malachi to have a look at.

"What's this?"

"My new timetable."

"Yeah, we got one, too. The whole schedule's been turned upside down."

"Really? Second years, too?"

Malachi nodded, taking out his own to compare; "Yeah, look. Potions two mornings a week, now, both double periods and nothing for it in the afternoons."

"Us, too, thankfully only one double though," Harry stated, before he pointed at the classes he actually wanted to show him; "Those are the classes, there, that are the worst ones though."

"Remedial potions," Malachi read, with a frown; "I didn't think you were that bad at potions. Didn't you get an 'E' on the last assignment?"

"It's not remedial potions," Harry stated, carefully glancing around them to see if anyone was listening, but the loud chattering and clattering were ensuring it would be impossible for anyone to hear their quiet whispers; "It's private lessons. With _Snape_."

Malachi was fighting a smile, glancing back at the timetable; "At seven am?"

"Yeah."

What had he done to deserve _that_.

"Sounds like a bright start to your day," Malachi said, before he snickered.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Harry rolled up the timetable, with an irritated glance in the direction of the Potions Master, where he sat at the top table next to Dumbledore.

"Why?"

"Occlumency, apparently. Don't know why. McGonagall called me into her office as soon as Remus brought me here. They are 'non-negotiable' and 'compulsory' and I'm 'not to give Professor Snape any trouble'."

"Occlumency? Why?"

Harry had absolutely no idea.

He did wonder if maybe it had something to do with his mum and his nightmares, she had been so freaked out about them earlier in the holidays, even if she tried to hide it. And Harry had quickly, in an attempt to free himself from his impending doom of two mornings a week with Snape, pointed out to his Head of House that he had had to get written permission from his mum before he had been allowed to take on the extra defence classes with Professor Lupin.

McGonagall had smiled, tightly, and presented him with a piece of parchment; a signed permission form allowing the occlumency classes to go ahead.

And so, there was nothing at all Harry could say or do to prevent it, aside from go to Dumbledore and plead his case. Which he had done. To no avail.

The Headmaster had only smiled, offered up a few words of encouragement as to the benefits of mastery of the skill, and sent him on his way, reasserting his Head of House's previous warning 'not to give Professor Snape any trouble'.

They acted as if _he_ was the one with the problem, here, when it was Snape who handed out his detentions left, right and centre. Sometimes Harry wondered if he could even _breathe_ right, in the Potions Master's opinion. And what was this guy's obsession with occlumency, anyway? Every detention he had received, which were so numerous that Harry had genuinely lost count of them this year, it was always books on the same subject that he was given to look at.

Occlumency.

Harry already felt burned out, just at hearing the title, by this point, and he hadn't even really learnt anything about it beyond basic theory.

But with McGonagall, Dumbledore and his mum all arranging this – _behind his back_ – there was nothing that Harry could do but wait and dread his Monday and Friday mornings, where he'd have to drag himself out of bed at the crack of dawn and head down to the _dungeons_ for occlumency lessons he didn't even need!

And dread them, he did.

* * *

"We are, all of us, aware of the House Rules. Slytherins stand together. In-fighting is not tolerated, under any circumstances, particularly in cases where the fighting is one-sided. This behaviour is, quite simply, cowardice. And there are no cowards in our House, nor are there victims, and should any of you attempt to make any as such, I am certain you are all aware of the consequences."

Severus glanced around the faces of his Slytherins, attempting to detect any hint of guilt, of culpability, but none shone forth. Indeed, they all had their attention upon him, listening with respect, no hint of defiance whatsoever, and so he went forth, conceding that the culprit would simply have to go free in this instance and a blanket punishment would be sufficient to see to it that such behaviour did not happen again.

"Fifty points from Slytherin, for this behaviour –" there were groans of outrage which he ignored; "- which, needless to say, put us uncomfortably close to, yet another, embarrassing defeat at the hands of the Gryffindor House, come this years departure feast. There is no room for any further slip ups such as this. Dismissed."

Malachi's face positively burned with mortification but there was no way Severus was going to let it slide. Yet, another, incident and the boy had not come to him. Severus did not mention him by name, nor did he even present the evidence – the Daily Prophet front page Regulus had given to him – that would be saved only for the eyes of the culprit, but that did nothing to stop the boy's embarrassment.

Severus didn't make any overt attempts to engage with him following the assembly, it was only when they had run into one another in the dungeon hallways later that night, that the boy had turned to him, almost accusatory when he spoke.

"You think you're helping but you're not. You're just making it worse."

"Manners, Mr Black. And worse, you say? In what way? Would you like to regale me with further incidents that have transpired in the aftermath of our assembly this morning?"

" _Everyone_ knows that was about me. Now they're just angry because I lost them fifty points!"

"You did not lose them anything, Malachi, your Housemates did that, whomever the culprits may be. And they will think twice now before continuing with these, what do you call them, 'pranks'? I will not stand for it."

Never.

Severus would not stand by while a boy, a student of his House was subject to constant torment and harassment right under his nose. He knew, only too well, where such treatment could lead. Even if Malachi were not his Godson he couldn't not intervene.

Malachi returned to his dorm without a thank you or a protest, a typical teenager, Severus was beginning to realise, but he was not offended by the boy's lack of gratitude in this case. He, too, would have been mortified as a child if Slughorn had bothered to do anything about what had happened to _him_ but he knew, now, that perhaps if his old Head of House had done so, he would have thanked him for it, eventually, if only silently, in his mind.

Severus did not dwell any further, now that he had dealt with it, for the treatment Malachi was facing always drew up thoughts of the past, depressing as it was, and his present was already doing enough to dampen his spirits these days.

His life was not different than it had been, perhaps ten years ago, when he had done all of this. Hogwarts. The Foundation. Head of House. His Slytherins. The resources to begin any such projects that caught his fancy. The connections, the status, the life he had always wanted as a child.

All was returned to him – if one ignored the impending doom that the ever-darkening Mark on his arm forecast.

Had he really been satisfied, back then, with all of this?

Yes, he had. He had never been happier. Until Lily turned up back in his life, that is.

Now, it all felt incredibly hollow. As if something were missing.

Because something _was_ missing. Had always been but now he knew what it was and how it felt to have it.

It took all his self-control not to go down to the lab on his first, his second, his third day back at the Foundation, knowing that Lily was to be working down there during the first few days of the week before being dispatched out onto the field with Chesney and Heart.

He did find an excuse to walk by the Bistro - oh the memories that evoked - during a time he was certain she would be in there, and, sure enough, he was right and she was there, sitting amongst their colleagues, smiling and laughing.

Their eyes had met and her smile had faltered and changed, a softening in her expression, and he was tempted to join them, there was enough of them there that it wouldn't seem suspicious, but he held back, returning to his office and continuing with the catch up work that was needed before he could begin any research of his own.

It may have made them feel better, sitting there with her, but it could have just as easily made it worse. And the last thing either of them needed were _more_ rumours, within days of his return to the company, should it be obvious to anyone that there was something there between them.

Severus cast such thoughts aside, heading to his chambers.

With his Friday – and Monday – mornings now promised to Harry Potter and their first occlumency lesson to begin in less than ten hours, he needed all the rest he could get.

Severus was dreading this.

It was entirely unusual for either of them to spend any speaking time together and Severus was acutely aware of the disaster that had unfolded the last – and first – time that he had attempted to, what, reach out to the boy?

There could be no reaching.

But then, _everything_ depended on Severus getting these lessons right and he doubted there was anything he wouldn't do in his attempts to make sure the boy got it.

He could only hope that Potter would be so determined, also.

* * *

Harry did _not_ want to go.

He drew the covers up over his head and buried it still into his pillow when the enchantments he had cast to wake him up at six in the morning had gone off.

But he didn't want to make the whole thing any more painful than it had to be, and he was sure Snape would make it such if he were to turn up late, so after a minute of denial, he had thrown the covers from himself and started getting ready, making his way from the Gryffindor Tower down to the dungeons, arriving early, which seemed to please Snape.

A bit.

"Ah. So eager to begin, Mr Potter?"

Harry fought the retort that so was the Professor, obviously, as he was already there too but he didn't.

He just shrugged, treating the question as rhetorical, and began to pull his parchments and quills from his bag.

"No need for that. This lesson will be entirely practical," Snape stated, stopping him, as he got up from behind his desk and headed towards him.

"Oh. Alright."

Harry let his bag fall to the floor with a thud, earning a less-than-impressed look from Snape but the professor said nothing about it, just indicated that Harry take a seat.

"Well, it seems the time has come for formal lessons on this subject to begin. Your assignment some months ago proved that you were ready. Consequently, here we are."

"Uh, can I ask, Sir," Harry hoped throwing in the respectful title might encourage Snape to be more forthcoming; "Why is it only me that's learning it?"

"Because the Headmaster wishes it."

"But why? It's not one of the subjects we actually need, is it?"

"It is a life skill, Potter. One which it is widely believed will be of benefit to you."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I just don't understand the reason for these lessons? Is this supposed to help me against the dementors?"

"Against the dementors?" Snape repeated, eyeing him; "Are you implying that you intend on facing them, Mr Potter? I was under the impression that your run in last year was accidental."

Harry fought not to roll his eyes at how Snape had turned his questions around on him; "No. But I can't help it if they come after me."

"They are not going to come after you, so long as you remain within the permitted places within the school grounds. Now, lets begin."

Harry made to protest, certain that his questions and the reasons behind this had not be answered, but Snape continued seamlessly, giving him no opening and he was tired enough, after having to wake at the crack of dawn to be here, that he didn't push it for now.

If his mum had really granted permission for these extra lessons, he'd just have to owl her again and demand she tell him the reason why.

He guessed it had something to do with his nightmares.

But he wasn't going to tell _Snape_ that.

"You understand the basic concept of occlumency by now, I'm sure?"

"Yeah."

It would be impossible for him not to.

Snape waited, as if for further elaboration, so Harry quickly mustered up a lengthier response.

"It's the mind's defence against an attack, most often used by a legillimens."

Snape lifted his eyes towards the ceiling; "Repeated almost word for word from the basic textbook. Do those words mean anything to you?"

Harry felt himself grow irritated; "They mean that if someone was trying to look into my mind, I can use occlumency to get them out."

"Excellent. That is all I was looking for. To begin with, I shall attempt to do so –"

"You're going to try and get into my mind – _no_!"

"No?"

"No, you – you can't read my mind. It's private!"

Snape simply stared at him.

"Sir," he added.

"Potter, if you do not want me to see inside your head, then you are just going to have to stop me. That is the entire point of these lessons."

Harry huffed, looking furiously in the direction of the door, mortified that Snape – or anyone – was going to be granted access to his mind. Did his mum really permit this? Why Snape? Why not someone else, someone like Dumbledore, he wouldn't mind the Headmaster looking a bit.

But then, that wasn't totally true, either.

"This requires focus," Snape practically snapped, his patience seeming to wear thin all of a sudden, no doubt picking up on his thoughts; "I am aware you would rather be anywhere but here right now but do not underestimate the value and importance of this skill. It cannot be blundered through in the same way that you have done so with your academic subjects these past few years, a little effort is necessary."

Harry glowered at him, insulted by Snape's assessment of his schoolwork.

This was the most Snape had ever spoken to him since they had met.

Harry found he much preferred silence.

"You may use your wand, your brain, anything you can think of in your attempts to stop me. Without consequence, do not hold back. We need an accurate idea of what your abilities are, so that we may proceed from there."

Snape took a step back, encouraging Harry to stand with a wave and he did so, reluctantly.

"Take out your wand, prepare yourself."

Harry did as he was told, as best he could.

Snape waited a minute, until Harry met his eyes, drawing in a breath and giving a nod. Only then, did the potions professor lift his arm and say the incantation that Harry dreaded, even if he was grateful that he was at least giving the chance the compose himself beforehand.

"Legillimens."

The composure he had mustered did little to stop it. The office was quickly swimming and vanishing before his eyes and then, suddenly, his life, his memories were there, fluttering by in successive flashes.

He was sitting on the Hogwarts Express, his first journey upon it on his way to starting Hogwarts.

He was lying on his bed in the dormitory, laughing with Ron.

He and Malachi were sitting in the restricted section of the library, perusing books about Voldemort.

He was five years old, flying round and round the garden, and his Uncle Sirius was hooting at him from down below.

He was lying on the floor in the living room with Grace bouncing on his chest, giggling.

No!

No one could see where they lived.

Harry fought back, with everything in his mind, he resisted it, trying to push any and all thoughts of his little sister away.

He fell to his knees, with a shout, and the office came back to him.

Snape rubbed his wrist and Harry caught sight of a welch there, now, and realised that he must have hit him with something, and he was mortified though not as mortified as he was that the man had just been inside his head.

Snape indicated with a nod that Harry get back to his feet.

He did so, with slow reluctance, eyeing him; "Did you see all that?"

"Yes."

Harry swallowed but Snape moved on, saying nothing about either the jinx or the memories; "That could have been worse. You did manage to stop me eventually. Though you were dangerously close to losing control. You mustn't panic, in the way that you just did. Composure is essential, you only waste time and energy by flailing."

"You were looking at things you can't see."

"Indeed?"

"My sister…" Harry trailed off.

Snape regarded him, carefully, and Harry wasn't sure what it was he could see there but it wasn't the cool disregard that he was used to.

"We shall try again, Mr Potter," he said, after a moment.

Harry shook his head, holding up a hand; "Wait. You haven't told me how to stop you."

"Indeed. The way you stop me is something you shall have to figure out for yourself."

"You could at least give me some suggestions," Harry bit back. Snape glowered at him and Harry drew in a breath, adding a less-than-sincere; "Professor."

"Very well. The method that I find most effective is discipline, controlling your emotions to the point of detachment. Do not allow yourself to feel, to see, that which you do not want your opponent to access. Other methods include drawing upon memories, harmless memories, that offer little in the way of showing weaknesses or compromising thoughts. Another, still, involves invention of memories; that is, creating false memories, fantasises in your head and offering them up as the truth. A method I'm quite certain would suit yourself perfectly, though do not come to depend upon it if you should decide to use it. By the end of these lessons, it is my expectation that you will have the ability to exercise all three. Concurrently."

"At the same time?" Harry repeated, incredulously.

"Yes. For it is only through utilising all three of these methods that you can keep a legillimens out, whilst at the same time fooling them into believing that you are not doing so."

"Why would I ever need to do that?"

"Trust me when I say that you will be entirely grateful for having these lessons forced upon you in the not too distant future."

Harry was certain, with his words, that it wasn't his mum that been approached about this and, rather, it had been the other way around.

"Is this about my nightmares?"

"Perhaps. Now, prepare yourself. We shall try again."

Harry mustered up as much strength as he could. Pushed away his thoughts, any thoughts or emotions he had about his family, his little sister, and the house they were kept hidden within, tried to muster up pictures of his old home, with his mum and Uncle Sirius, before all this. Maybe, even, he could pretend Sirius was still alive and with them, now.

"Legillimens."

He tried to do it all. All that Snape had suggested. Thought of his old house by the muggle Church, his Uncle Sirius alive and well. Push aside thoughts of his sister – don't think about Grace, don't think about Grace – to no avail. It came up almost instantly.

Himself and his mum were in the living room of their Fidelius-protected home, the memory so recent, less than a week since it had taken place.

" _It's Regulus Black. I know he's Grace's dad. It's obvious, Mum."_

The office was back, then, so abruptly that it startled him and he wasn't sure how he'd managed to get Snape out of his head so easily, so quickly. It only took a moment for him to realise that Snape had done so, willingly, and when Harry met his eyes after shaking off the haze of it all, the professor looked furious.

"That was pathetic," he spat, with a venom in his voice that Harry had never heard from him.

Harry must have looked as taken aback as he felt, because Snape stopped himself from carrying on, drawing in a breath and turning away. After a second, the Potions Professor walked on by him, and added, not quite as scathingly as before, but still obviously displeased:

"One would think that when it came to the matter of your family secrets you'd make more of an effort to conceal them."

"You can't tell anyone," Harry blurted out.

Snape froze.

"Please, Sir."

Harry was almost mortified at how pleading he sounded. Almost, but not quite, because there were more important things at stake here than just his pride. He had just told or, rather, _shown_ , Snape the truth; that Regulus Black was Grace's father. After his mum so adamantly insisting, for good reason, that the truth of his sister's parentage could never come out. That it was dangerous for anyone to know the secret.

And Harry had just revealed it to Snape, of all people!

Mere days after discovering the truth himself.

Snape was regarding him carefully, having turned back to face him, and Harry's panic only increased when the silence drew out.

"You can't tell anyone," Harry repeated, more desperately this time.

Snape's hard expression softened, unexpectedly, and he glanced away. When he looked back, there was a sincerity there that surprised him, and which left him feeling instantly reassured even before the words were spoken; "Mr Potter, rest assured that anything that passes between us throughout the course of these lessons will under no circumstances be leaving this room."

Harry released a breath, visibly relaxing at the statement, because the look and the words were spoken in such a way that Harry couldn't find it within himself to doubt that the professor meant it.

And he found himself relieved that, even if he was less than happy about Snape getting into his head, at least he wasn't going to be going about broadcasting anything that he found.

Harry attempted to convince himself further, reminding himself that Snape was a friend of Mr Black's anyway, so perhaps he already knew. Maybe he hadn't revealed anything at all.

Snape cleared his throat, looking at him expectantly.

Harry drew in a breath, straightening up, and nodded; "I'm ready."

"Hm. We'll see."

Snape's voice was different this time, less cold. But Harry had no time to dwell on that. Merely a moment later, he had lifted his wand and spoke the incantation.

"Legillimens."

And the memories came flowing forth once more.


	45. May 1994: Discipline

Peter Pettigrew was in the room.

Harry shook the map, as if by doing so he would be able to shake the offending name from the parchment. For weeks, the name had been popping up, sometimes right where he was – and there definitely was no Peter Pettigrew beside him when it did – and it was driving Harry bonkers.

"Look, it's here again, see," Harry quickly pointed out the name to Ron and Malachi.

Ron glanced at the map; "Looks like you've got a stalker, Mate."

"Maybe it's a ghost?" Malachi suggested.

Harry shook his head, glancing around the library; "But they've got form, we can see them."

"A poltergeist?" Ron suggested.

"Or just a spirit. He's not doing any harm, is he? Maybe he's trapped," Malachi offered.

"Trapped in Hogwarts?" Harry frowned.

"I dunno. Maybe limbo?"

Ron's eyes widened, nodding as if impressed; "Another dimension."

"Whatever he is, he's leaving," Harry said, watching the name move across the map rapidly, seeming to pass through the library walls as he did.

"What's that, the third time this week?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, something like that. He's not always around me though. He hangs out in the dungeons a lot, too."

Ron and Malachi went on talking about ghosts, poltergeists and trapped spirits, as if it were incredibly exciting that the map had managed to pick up on it. Harry just carried on with his Transfiguration essay, the name popping up so much on the map recently that he was almost tired of all the speculation.

And, honestly, in his opinion it was a glitch rather than any actual _being_ that was hanging around. A couple of times the name had come up in the dorm room, while he was there, alone, and there was definitely no one else around then.

Ron released an exasperated breath when the ink he had been trying to preserve for as long as possible finally ran out.

"I've got another one," Malachi offered; "In my bag, over there."

"Thanks," Ron said, pushing back and up off his chair to retrieve it.

Malachi leaned in closer to Harry while he was out of earshot; "How'd remedial potions go?"

"Alright, actually," Harry said, still surprised at how it had gone himself. Snape was almost…nice when he had gotten freaked out about the whole thing with Grace and for that, alone, Harry was eternally grateful; "Mind you, it's not like they could have gone any worse than I was expecting."

Malachi smiled, making to speak again, but silenced himself when he noticed Ron approaching with the jar of ink and a book in his hand.

"Hey, Mate, what's this?" Ron tossed a book onto the table.

Both of them glanced at the title.

_The Ingenious Ideals of Gellert Grindelwald._

They shook their heads, no idea what Ron was on about.

"Well, it was in _your_ bag," Ron stated, looking directly at Malachi.

"What? That's not mine."

"Who's Gellert Grindelwald?" Harry asked, bewildered at the accusatory look Ron was directing Malachi's way.

"He's, like, one of the worst Dark wizards of all time. After You-Know-Who. Maybe even worse," Ron stated.

Malachi shook his head; "I don't know why that was in there. It's not mine, really."

Ron just looked back at him, his scepticism blatant in his expression.

"It's not!"

"Hey, Malachi, it's probably someone else's from your House. Maybe you picked up the book by accident or something," Harry said, for it was the obvious explanation, but Ron really wasn't helping, the way he was glaring daggers at him.

"Right," Malachi nodded, eyeing it, "That's what it is."

"Yeah, sure, that must be it."

"Ron," Harry shot him a look.

Ron stood there, eyeing Malachi for a second, and then he put the jar of ink down on the table and gathered up his books; "Listen, Hermione said she'd help me out with this if I needed it, so I'm just gonna go back up to the common room."

"Ron –"

"I'll see you there? Unless you want to come now?"

Harry shot him a look, glancing back at Malachi, who wasn't taking notice of either of them and was frowning at the book that Ron had tossed down.

"Right. See you later, then, Harry."

Harry watched him go, irritated at Ron's behaviour but it wasn't anything new. He was always going on at Harry about hanging out with Malachi, a Slytherin, and he'd been, pretty much, desperate to get out of coming to the library tonight when he'd heard that Malachi was going to be there too.

What _was_ new was this book.

Harry reached for it, opening it up and reading the first chapter title out loud; "The Wizarding Statute of Secrecy; and How it Stifles Wizarding Way of Life," he looked at Malachi; "Isn't this what your dad wrote about?"

Malachi nodded, slowly; "Yeah."

Harry shrugged; "It's just a book. Did you want to try and understand more about what he was saying? Now that he's told you he was a Death Eater?"

Malachi glanced around the room, sharply, as if it were a secret; "No. I told you, it's not mine. Really. I don't know how it got in there."

Harry turned the book over in his hands, looking for anything strange about it; "It's really old."

"Yeah, I know. I can see that."

Harry handed it over; "It's probably just one of your Housemates then. Maybe they put it in there on purpose."

"Why would they do that?"

"I dunno. But they wanted you to find out about your dad, didn't they?"

Malachi looked thoughtful, glancing down at the book.

"Give it to Snape."

"Yeah right," Malachi shot him a look.

Harry fought a grin.

"It's almost curfew," Malachi said, getting to his feet and gathering up his things; "I'll just see you tomorrow, maybe?"

"Yeah. Come sit with us at breakfast."

"Nah."

"Fine. I'll come sit with you."

Malachi met his eyes, hesitating for a second. Then he gave him a slight smile and nodded; "Yeah. See you in the morning, then."

"Don't forget the book."

Malachi eyed it, reluctantly.

"We can't leave it here, it's probably not even allowed in the school."

Malachi sighed, snatching it up and shoving it into his bag, and then with another nod he turned and headed from the room.

* * *

When it came to Lily Potter, self-control had never been Severus' strong suit.

Quite the opposite, actually.

But then, it had never been the intention that the two of them would be _separated_ when he finally took leave of their home some weeks before.

Never.

It was safer, of course, that they remain apart as much as possible. Indeed, if Regulus had not coerced him into returning to the Foundation, they would have had very little opportunity to spend time together at all.

But, as it happened, he _was_ back at the Foundation. And, so far, he had done a pretty good job of staying away.

Of course, it wasn't him who eventually gave in in the end.

They had lasted, oh, about three weeks before Lily had turned up in his office with some paperwork that needed signed – immediately, apparently – and it was all Severus could do not to go and take her in his arms there and then.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Potter," he said, when he quickly took notice who it was who had opened the door; "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Lily pulled the door shut behind her.

"Professor," she grinned, eyeing the place with a teasing look; "Is the office bugged?"

"No," Severus smirked; "Though I suppose if done well enough, I would be entirely unaware of the fact."

Lily laughed, rolling her eyes; "Here."

"Ah yes," Severus said as he took and fingered through the parchments she held out to him; "I can certainly see why these had to be brought to my immediate attention, lest we run out of quills and parchment anytime soon."

"Admit it, you're glad I'm here," Lily shot him a bright smile, taking a seat in the chair across the desk.

Severus couldn't help but smile in response, even as he glanced in the direction of the windows. He knew that no one could see in, the enchantments saw to that. But, the fact that he could see out and easily see the vast number of people that scattered the grounds made him uneasy, so with a flick of his wand the curtains were drawn and the room was suddenly darkened.

Lily raised an eyebrow, in playful suggestion, and Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to help the chuckle.

"And here was I under the impression that I would be the first to break."

Lily laughed; "Please. You knew it would be me."

"Hm."

"I have no self-control, as you so often tell me."

"Indeed. No truer words were even spoken."

He felt like a schoolboy. Almost giddy. As if the time apart had made this all new again.

Lily eyed him, her expression teasing; "Perhaps I should come over there."

"I think not."

"And why's that?"

"I am your boss. It would be inappropriate."

Lily laughed again; "Oh, is that how it is?"

"So it would seem."

They were both smiling, simply glad to be in one another's company once more, but the elation, the teasing, quickly gave way to reality and Severus lowered his eyes to his hand, tapping his index finger on the desk, before asking;

"How is she?"

"She's good," Lily said, immediately nodding, to give him reassurance; "You know Grace. Full of mischief. Dramatic to the end."

"Has she asked for me?"

Lily hesitated.

And then she nodded, her voice softening; "Yes. Of course, she has."

Severus knew that would be the case. Of course, she would have, just as Lily said. It was not unusual for him to be gone, no, but he always showed up eventually. It would take time, for Grace to realise that this time was different.

But then, he had disappeared for entire summers and Christmases, and she had never questioned whether or not her father would return.

She just knew.

"And Harry?"

Severus met Lily's eyes at the question.

He drew in a breath and nodded; "He is well. You know your son." He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching; "Full of mischief and dramatic to the end."

Lily gave a 'hmm' of laughter; "How are your lessons coming along? Have you started?"

"Yes. We began lessons the first week of term."

"And?"

"And, they have begun. It's a start."

They were, in actuality, going far better than Severus had expected. The boy, at least, seemed to be taking it seriously following his initial reservations and Severus was quite certain it had something to do with the way he had responded to the boy's pleading.

Both had changed their behaviour, somewhat, in the aftermath, as Severus couldn't help but be moved at the ardent protectiveness that Potter had for his younger sister; his daughter.

But Severus knew better than to say any of that to Lily, knowing well enough that she had far higher expectations of this than he did; indeed, he knew she considered it to be the answer to all their problems.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"I am thinking you're still too excited about this. As such, I urge you, once again, not to get your hopes up."

Lily nodded, rolling her eyes even as she smiled; "Right."

Severus sighed. His heart felt as if it was going to burst from his chest, just at seeing that smile again. Her voice. Her laughter. Those eyes.

Longing very quickly drove away the tiny bit of resolve he'd clung to since she'd walked into his office.

What was the point in denying it, after all?

Severus flicked his wand in the direction of the door, listening with satisfaction at the resulting _'click'_ as it locked.

"Come here."

Lily didn't need to be told twice.

She was in his lap in seconds and his lips claimed hers, kissing her hungrily, as his hands first gripped and then trailed her sides. It was always this way, after a separation, neither of them quite used to them, even after all this time. But in this instance, it was entirely different, as Severus had feared that it could be months, nay indefinite, before he had the chance to put his hands upon her in this way again and every inch of his body was yearning for her, now, as she pressed against him in a way he was certain was meant to tease.

Lily moaned into his mouth.

It was a sound that always drove him crazy.

With a growl his lips left hers and went to her throat, his mouth open and his tongue keen to taste and explore as his hands moved upwards from her sides, to touch –

The adjourning door to his left burst open suddenly.

"Sever – ah!"

Lily and Severus sprung apart.

Regulus had averted his eyes and was already scrambling back into his own office by the time they realised who it was; "Sorry! Sorry!"

The interruption lasted all of two seconds but that was enough and Severus fully believed he would have been just as put out had Regulus burst into the room and thrown a bucket of ice water over them both.

Lily seemed less affected, giving a small giggle and caressing his cheek as she smiled down at him; "I suppose we're a little out of practice at this."

Severus only gave her a raised eyebrow and she leaned down, kissing him again, but it was sweet rather than passionate this time, indicating that the moment had been entirely _ruined_ by the interruption, and when it was over she touched her forehead to his.

Severus trailed a hand up her arm, tucking her hair back from her face before speaking reluctantly; "You should return to the lab. Heart will wonder at your absence if it stretches too long."

Lily nodded, not pointing out that he had not been complaining about the length of her absence a moment ago, indeed he had just been about to see that it stretched much, much longer.

Instead, she kissed him again. Twice. And he savoured it, not rushing her, both of them taking their time because these moments were rare – at least, they should be, if they could muster up the resolve to make them so.

Severus had a feeling such meetings as these would very soon become their new 'normal'.

He shot a glance at Regulus' door after Lily left, gratitude that he had found reason to bring him back here only _just_ overriding the very real desire he had to strangle him right now.

* * *

Okay.

So, maybe Snape wasn't the total wanker Harry had always thought he was.

Still, that didn't make these Occlumency lessons any less dreadful than he'd expected.

Harry hated it.

It wasn't just that Snape – or anyone, really – was able to get into his head and see all of his memories. As it was, any and all of them were up for grabs at the moment, as he was just hopeless at keeping Snape out, and the ones that kept coming forth were either dangerous, like all the conversations he'd been having with people about Grace, or just plain awful, like the sight of his Uncle Sirius lying dead at his feet.

Sure, Harry didn't want Snape seeing those things but, most of all, _he_ didn't want to be seeing those things either.

It was bad enough with his nightmares.

This time, though, something else came forward while Harry fought to push all his recent memories away. It was a memory Harry didn't even know he had.

"Legillimens."

Someone was screaming. Everything was a blur, he was being spun around. He was being carried.

By his mum, he realised, as his vision cleared. He was a baby, being woken and grabbed from his cot.

"James!"

"Lily, take Harry and go!" A man's voice called from somewhere outside the room; "It's okay! It's okay, just go! Get Sirius!"

There was the manic laughter of a woman, the sound of glass smashing and furniture crashing and he was crying and his mum was crying, as she ran to the window –

Snape's office came back to him, abruptly, and he realised he was on his hands and knees on the floor.

Harry drew in a breath, trying to compose himself, before he raised his eyes to where Snape was stood over him, watching him, and he slowly got to his feet.

Snape's eyes never left him.

"You were very young in that memory, Potter."

Harry drew in a breath, that he released in a huff; "We don't talk about the memories, do we, Professor?"

It had never been a verbal agreement, rather an unspoken one, Snape never lingering on any for commentary, neither to reassure or embarrass him, no matter how amusing or appalling the visions brought forth were.

Snape nodded, turning his back and walking to his desk; "Take a few minutes."

He did that, though.

If Snape could see that Harry was affected by them, he'd leave him alone for a bit, and Harry was grateful because he _was_ affected by that one that he'd just seen. The raw terror in his mum's voice as she'd called for his dad.

It was private.

It was _private._

He suddenly felt very protective of his mum, realising that it wasn't only his memories that were being shared here, but anyone who just so happened to be in them with him.

And it only made him angry, then, that was being forced to share all of this with a man whom he wouldn't even discuss something as mundane as choosing his bedroom wallpaper with.

After a few minutes, Snape stood from his desk and approached.

"Shall we continue?"

Harry lifted a hand, shaking his head; "No."

"No?"

"This is pointless."

Snape's eyebrows lifted.

"Pointless, you say? In what respect? Do you fail to see the merit in learning to shield yourself from an attack? Or is it, simply, that you consider yourself above the methods of us, mere, mortals?"

"It's pointless because I'm never going to be able to do this."

"That's the spirit, Potter. We have been doing these lessons for only a month. What, exactly, are your expectations?"

"I don't expect anything. I just don't want to waste your time. Or mine. Any time that I've faced Voldemort –"

"Do not say the Dark Lord's name."

Harry hesitated, taking a mental note of the strange title Snape attributed towards the Dark Wizard but said nothing about it, wanting to make his point.

"- any time that I've faced him; it's not my head I've been worried about protecting from him. It's my whole damn body!"

"Language, Potter. That's five points."

"I don't see why I have to spend three hours a week here learning this when Vo – _he_ could be back any day, and I have no idea how to defend myself."

Snape looked at him, carefully.

"You are aware that the Dark Lord is going to return?"

"Well, yeah."

"Where did you receive this information?"

"From my eyes! I just told you, I've faced him twice since the first time. I know he's not dead."

"Nor does he truly live. And, in preparation for when he does so once more, you wish to learn to defend yourself, physically, should he challenge you to a duel?"

Harry glowered at him, uncertain whether or not Snape was joking, despite the obvious sarcasm.

"He wants to kill me."

"I can't imagine why. What with all these successful attempts to thwart his return."

"No. He's wanted to kill me from the start."

Snape seemed thrown.

Hell, _Harry_ was thrown by his admittance. He hadn't breathed a word of it to anyone other than Malachi, the shame of it was just too much. That his Uncle Sirius might have lived, if Harry had just stepped forward or, even, just _run_ when Sirius had told him to, before telling Voldemort his name.

But, then, did he really care what Snape thought of him?

"'I'm not just being a brat, Professor. I know I'm not 'special'."

Snape merely regarded him, in that peculiar way he seemed to do. Harry noticed it mostly now that they had these lessons together but, thinking back, he'd always had a weird way of looking at him, ever since they'd met.

"I didn't do anything you know."

"You shall have to be more specific."

"The night he came for me. I didn't do anything. I just stood there and watched while he killed my Uncle Sirius."

"You were a seven-year-old child, Potter. No one would have expected any different."

"People act as if I'm some sort of hero. It's dragonshit."

"Another five."

Harry realised who it was he was talking to and turned away, shaking his head. He couldn't say any of this to his mum, to his Uncle Remus, but here he was spilling his guts, his darkest secret, to a Professor.

To _Snape._

These occlumency lessons were seriously messing with his head.

Harry felt awkward, exposed in a way that even having Snape rifling through his memories hadn't evoked, and he wished he could just leave.

Snape's voice was soft, though, when he spoke again. That weird, calming, reassuring way that Harry had only had a glimpse at, when his demeanour turned, abruptly, in the first lesson, after his pleading for discretion regarding his sister.

"To survive the Dark Lord's attack, alone, is enough to grant recognition. Anyone who thinks differently is a fool. What could you have possibly done?"

Harry bowed his head, feeling the infuriating build up of tears in his eyes, as he remembered the helplessness of that night as Sirius had scrambled to shield him.

"Anything."

Snape drew in a breath and Harry met his eyes, seeing something there again, and this guy was just so hard to read. He didn't think he'd ever known anyone so…stoic.

"Your uncle died while protecting you. It was…admirable," Snape seemed to struggle over the word; "And I'm quite certain he would not have had it any other way. You lived."

It was strange. Harry actually felt comforted by him, by the words. Until this moment, Harry would have rather stuck pins in his eyes that breathe a word of this to anyone. Least of all Snape.

The spell was broken though, with Snape's stern following words.

"Do not insult his memory by throwing away that sacrifice."

"I'm not throwing it away! I have no idea how I'm supposed to stop Vold – _him_ when he comes back for me. But I _do_ know this occlumency thing isn't going to be any help. I may as well be taking extra Herbology lessons every week."

"Take out your wand, Potter."

"What?"

"Take out your wand," Snape emphasised each word carefully, before pointing at a spot in the middle of the room; "And stand there."

Harry did as he was told, wondering what lesson, what horrors Snape had in store for him now as he took his position, Snape taking his own directly in front of him, several feet away.

"You have been engaging in extra defensive classes as well as these, have you not?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. With Professor Lupin."

"I trust that he has taught you something far more exciting, something far more _useful_ in your endeavours to protect yourself?"

Harry swallowed, quite certain he was standing on the edge of a trap; "Well, it's a patronus charm. To help me against the dementors."

"That is all? For four months? And yet you are impatient after only one month of lessons in occlumency?"

"There's been other spells…"

"Good. Cast them."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me, Potter. Do your worst."

Snape hadn't even drawn his wand. He just stood there, entirely relaxed, facing him with his arms crossed and his hands resting lazily on his forearms.

The Professor raised an eyebrow when Harry made no move to strike.

"Whenever you're ready, Potter."

"Are you serious, Sir? You want me to attack you?"

Snape's lip curled, then, and Harry could see amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I want you to _try._ "

Harry didn't miss the challenge in the Potion Professor's voice and he hoped, prayed, _begged_ the deities, that he would, at least, be able to get Snape with a stinging hex or something. To prove himself, of course, not because he desperately wanted to wipe that infuriating smirk of the man's face that was now being directed his way.

"Stupe-!"

Snape flicked his wand, lazily, drawn instantly from _nowhere_ , easily deflecting his spell.

"Expel–"

Again.

"Impe –"

Again.

"Petrifi –"

Again.

"Blocked," Snape said, silkily; "Again and again and again. Until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Mr Potter."

Harry lowered his wand, realising what it was that Snape was trying to tell him. That it didn't matter how many defensive spells he knew if Voldemort could just look inside his head and know exactly what was coming.

"I thought you said legilliemency wasn't the same as reading minds?"

"Indeed. But your motives are so transparent, that you are as easy to read as the most basic textbook."

Harry's shoulders dropped.

"What's the point of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes at all then?"

"Because legilliemency is entirely rare, both it and occlumency are an obscure branch of magic that is not often practiced. For that reason, defensive and, indeed, aggressive, spells are usually all that are needed against an opponent who means to do you harm. However, as you have pointed out, _your_ opponent is someone quite specific. The Dark Lord himself. Who just so happens to be one of the most skilled legillimens in the Wizarding World."

"Oh. Lucky me."

Snape ignored the remarked. Or let it slide.

"At the very least, these lessons will encourage you to learn some self-control. Patience. Discipline. All of which are qualities you are going to need, should your suspicions that the Dark Lord is going to come after you are true."

Harry scoffed, shaking his head; "If he comes after me, I'm dead."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Potter."

Harry met Snape's eyes, sharply.

There it was again. That look. The very same one that dared him to doubt it, that the professor meant it, and this was all so very weird. It was as if Snape actually _cared_ which made no sense after all these years of cold indifference.

But then, Dumbledore had put him on this.

And Harry knew the man was just so damn _serious_ when it came to potions and, judging by his collection of books on occlumency that were so numerous they could fill a library, he supposed he must be the same in any subject that took his interest.

"Now." Snape went on, smoothly, as if the previous words had never been spoken; "Close your mind."

Harry sighed.

But he did as he asked. Knowing that he had been bested, in more ways than one, at the end of the conversation.

He nodded when he'd done it, attempted it, drawing upon as much resistance as he could.

"Legillimens."

And the lesson resumed once more.

* * *

"Oh, how the mighty hath fallen!"

"It was one instance, with the mother of my child. Hardly comparable to _your_ exploits with half the faculty."

Regulus couldn't hold back his chuckles, even if he tried, and he couldn't _not_ tease Severus about this.

No way.

It was far too delicious an opportunity to pass up.

"Please, Severus, do remind me; who was it that insisted I introduce the clause forbidding employee relations?"

"Oh, shut up, Regulus."

"Oh no. No, no, no. Not for a long while. I am not the one who was just caught having sex in their office."

"We were _not_ having intercourse. We were…reacquainting ourselves."

Regulus' laughter was reaching howling levels as Severus attempted to fend off his remarks.

Severus rolled his eyes, tossing onto the desk the parchments Regulus had handed over to him the night before for reviewing; "What of this, anyway? I thought you had accepted it was a dead duck?"

Regulus wiped at the tears of laughter, attempting to compose himself.

"Not at all. Lily and I both agree, this is the way to go. It was Blood Magic that directly defeated the Dark Lord the first time and, even, the situation with Sirius and Harry came about due to a similar form of magic."

"Yes. Sacrificial Magic. Though the circumstances of your brother's will be impossible to replicate, no matter how much yourself and Lily attempt to make it so."

"We're not trying to replicate the circumstance."

"Is that not the reason for your choices of Secret Keeper?"

"No."

"No?"

"Well. It doesn't hurt."

Severus scowled.

"It would be foolish not to, after seeing how it worked before. For the sake of the children, if nothing else."

Severus shook his head; "Do not waste your time with this, Regulus. Not when there are still Horcruxes to be found."

"One Horcrux. Nagini."

"And have you heard the whispers?"

"Yes. Albania, again. I believe my cousin is amongst them, the congregated Death Eaters."

"They will have long since moved on. But it won't be long, now that he has so many of his followers by his side."

"And you?"

Severus drew in a breath, narrowing his eyes as he considered it; "As yet, I am uncertain the best course of action to take. Whether or not to seek them out."

"You could do it either way, I suppose. When he returns, there are few Death Eaters who have any strong foothold in the Wizarding World left. You could argue that your worth only increases with you staying put. Even in the Ministry, those who served were either killed or captured. The others, they only did occasionally, without any real commitment."

"That will change. The Dark Lord will see to that."

"Yes," Regulus agreed, before pointing out what he was certain Severus was already pondering over; "Of course, it would be another black mark; that you did not attempt to seek him out."

There were many 'black marks' against him, both he and Regulus knew that. It would not be easy, convincing the Dark Lord of his loyalty. But, then, if anyone could do it, it was Severus; the smoothest talking Death Eater of them all.

"Until the summer, I have the perfect excuse," Severus stated; "Dumbledore's eyes are upon me, after all. Once the school year concludes, if he has not yet resurfaced, I shall attempt to locate them."

Regulus nodded, slowly, glancing down at the parchments in front of Severus and reaching to take them back; "I suppose you have no advice for us, then?"

"I just gave it. Drop it."

"It is not whether or not we will be able to do it that is preventing us from getting any further on with it," Regulus explained, skimming through the parchments as he spoke; "It is the complete dead end we come to any time I try to find out any relevant information; the Ministry purges have seen to it that it is impossible to get anywhere. It's obscene, the amount they have tried to conceal."

"I agree. Though, in this case, I am glad."

"As is, there is only one person living whom we know has information regarding it further than what is currently accessible," Regulus went on, as if Severus had never spoken.

He hesitated before meeting his eyes, knowing that Severus would make the link right away.

Of course, he did.

Severus' eyes were narrowed as he regarded him, daring him to speak the name.

Regulus did.

"Eugene."

"Pah!" Severus was on his feet in an instant, turning from him with a shake of the head; "Your dreaming knows no bounds, Regulus. You are not seriously considering going to him?"

"No. How could I face him now we know the truth?"

" _You_ face _him?"_ Severus repeated, incredulously; "Indeed."

"We know how they died. Anchor Ridge –"

"Regulus."

"The Prophet labelled it a massacre."

"It was mercy," Severus' voice was stern and his eyes dark, leaving no room for argument; "We were _both_ there that day. Do not tell me otherwise."

Regulus glanced down, fingering the parchments; "He may be the only one."

"Regulus. This is a fool's errand. I believe it even more so now that I know what you're thinking. Absolutely, under no circumstances, are you going to go to Hopkins about this matter."

"I was hoping you might."

Severus glowered.

Regulus shook his head; "His vengeance was not as indiscriminate as we once thought. He may be receptive. He always liked you."

"No."

"No?"

"No," Severus ground out; "That man is a murderer, he should be in Azkaban."

Severus shook his head, looking every bit as furious by the suggestion as Regulus expected; "I would sooner eat dirt, than ask Eugene Hopkins for anything."

"Well. Let it not be said that Severus Snape does not have a flare for the dramatic."

"Oh, like you are one to talk about dramatics, Regulus!"

Regulus gave him a small smile and rolled up the parchments; "Just a thought."

Severus was still thinking on it, Regulus could tell from the faraway look, even after he had tucked the research away; "Have you spoken with Malachi?"

"Briefly. However, I have spoken with his Housemates, as a whole, and I'm certain that any issues have been dealt with. He will have no more trouble from them."

"Thank you."

Severus nodded, making his way towards the adjourning door to his office, dismissing himself and still seething over Regulus' comments regarding Eugene.

"Oh. Severus?"

He stopped, turning back.

"Here."

Regulus held up a green hair scrunchie for a second before tossing it in Severus' direction, and the other man caught it easily.

Severus held it up, looking at it strangely, before turning bewildered eyes on Regulus.

"And what do you expect me to do with this?"

"It's for the door handle. The next time you and Lily are…reacquainting yourselves."

Severus threw it back in his face, storming out of the office.

While Regulus was rendered to a laughing heap in his chair.

* * *

"The Dark Lord, that's what Professor Snape calls him?"

Harry glanced up from the map, his eyes having been following Peter Pettigrew's steps as it snaked the dungeons.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just, my dad calls him that, too," Malachi said, lowering his notebook to the grass, and had a quick look around the clearing before adding; "I think it's a Death Eater thing, actually."

"Death Eaters?" Harry repeated, sitting up and crossing his legs underneath him; "I thought you said Snape wasn't on the list?"

"He wasn't. But that was a trial list. Could be he just wasn't called up."

"You think Snape's a Death Eater?"

"I thought you did?"

Harry looked unsure, this time, no hint of the certainty he had about him at the Foundation the previous month when he had asked Malachi the names.

"I dunno," Harry finally said; "He's…different to what I thought."

Malachi snorted, shaking his head and lifting his notebook back up; "Right. Now that you like him he couldn't possibly be one of them."

"I don't _like_ him. I just don't think he's pure evil anymore, that's all."

"Well, my dad isn't 'pure evil' either and he was Professor Snape's best friend back then."

"So, yeah. Right. It makes sense, then. That they were both Death Eaters."

"Maybe. But then, would Professor Dumbledore hire Professor Snape if he had been a Death Eater? He's been working here for a long time, since before the Foundation, I think. Maybe even during the war."

"Maybe Dumbledore doesn't know," Harry said, though even he sounded sceptical as he said it.

"Dumbledore knows everything."

Harry gave a slight nod, lifting the map back up; "Pettigrew the Spirit is hovering around Snape right now."

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded; "I've noticed that, sometimes. It's like he follows him. When he's not following me."

"Just you two?"

"Sometimes you, too."

"Me?"

"Spirit magnets, that's us," Harry grinned and Malachi laughed.

Harry tapped the map, speaking the ' _Mischief Managed'_ incantation to deactivate it, and tucked it away before getting to his feet; "I gotta get to Quidditch practice."

"Right. I'll see you later."

Harry gave a smile and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading back in the direction of the Castle.

Only when Malachi was sure he was gone, that he wouldn't be coming back, did he reach into his bag and pull out the copy of _The Ingenious Ideals of Gellert Grindelwald_ that had been left for him.

Malachi leant back against the tree, opening the book to the page where he had left off the night before.

* * *

Harry Potter had surprised him.

And Severus was not often surprised.

He had not, yet, gotten his head around the information that the boy had opted to share with him. And, in fact, even that Potter had felt that he could share the information with him, _at all_ , was surprising enough in itself as Severus was entirely certain that Lily had not the faintest idea just how in-the-know her son was about all of this.

So, the boy knew that the Dark Lord would return.

Well. Severus supposed that was obvious. The boy had faced him, even spoken with the remaining essence of what was left of the Dark Wizard, from what Dumbledore had told him. It would not be difficult for Potter to deduce the fact.

What couldn't be explained away by deduction or logic, however, was how the boy had managed to learn that he had been a target from the beginning. Severus daren't mention the prophecy – he had learnt his lesson in that regard – and could only assume that somehow Potter had learnt it _from_ someone.

Dumbledore, perhaps? But Severus doubted he would do so, not without Lily's input.

There was Lupin, of course, for he was not above meddling in the Potter family secrets, Severus was sure.

But, really, how Potter had learned of it was irrelevant.

What mattered was that he _knew_.

And Severus would be lying if he were to say he wasn't just a little impressed by that; he carried the knowledge and the secret of it well. None of the dramatics he would have expected, based on the boy's previous escapades for the past few years.

Though Severus was undecided whether or not this new knowledge made Potter's behaviour in seeking the Dark Lord out for the past few years incredibly brave or incredibly stupid; or a little of both, Severus conceded, as he remembered only too well that youthful feeling of invincibility.

But then, Potter was not entirely overcome with that, either; he appeared totally resigned to his doomed fate – death! – and Severus would be snapping him out of _that_ very quickly.

"Legillimens."

The memories came forth but not as scrambled, not as easily as they had done so when he and Potter had first begun these lessons.

Potter had not yet noticed the change, but Severus had. Felt that little bit of resistance, of control the boy was beginning to develop.

Soon, once Potter had grasped more prominent control of his mind, Severus would have to up the stakes, push into his head more aggressively; the Dark Lord would not be rifling through his head with the same consideration that Severus had been doing the past several weeks.

No.

The Dark Lord would be merciless. Gruelling. Agonising.

There is was, the resistance Severus had come to expect, and he pushed a little harder until the memories there came forth.

An entirely uninspiring one.

Potter flying around on a broomstick during the most recent Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch match, while Sirius Black cheered from the stands –

Severus withdrew.

Crossed his arms across his chest and waited the minute or so it took Potter to come back to himself, regain his senses, and when he did and noticed Severus watching him carefully he shrugged.

"Yes, Sir?"

Sir. That was a happy consequence of these lessons. The seeming respect the boy had, gradually, developed.

"That was not a memory."

Potter stared back at him for a second. And then he smiled, evidently pleased with himself, and shrugged, as if to modestly push away any recognition for the fact in an 'oh shucks' kind of way.

But the delight was so much so that the boy's eyes positively lit up with the realisation that he had done it, had found and succeeding in utilising something to fight back against the mind attack.

Severus fought a smile of his own in response, because the boys was downright _infectious_ and there was no way Severus would be caught _smiling_.

But, never, had the boy looked right at him and smiled like that, before.

Severus had to turn away.

"Very good, Potter."

_Very good?_

He had surely gone soft.

The progress was minimal, at best. Merely a first step.

Still, Severus allowed the boy to bask in his own proud delight for a minute before he said anything further.

"Well. As expected, it is imagination that you have managed to utilise first. A seamless transition, from real to imaginary; need I tell you the drawbacks of this method?"

Potter shrugged.

"Imagination is ever-changing, unreliable; it requires thought, which is difficult, nay almost impossible, under a more aggressive onslaught. I advise you try to stick to _living_ imaginary inserts, if possible –" Harry met his eyes sharply, but Severus carried on; "You need to be wary of that. Keep it simple. All the while, not offering up anything that contradicts that which you are trying to convey."

"I still don't understand why I need to be able to do that. Does it really matter if Volde –"

"Potter."

"If _he_ knows that I'm lying in my head? As long as he doesn't see what I'm going to do or what I want to hide, who cares if he sees flying elephants and pink hippogriffs walking about in there?"

"We will not be doing this half-way, Mr Potter."

Potter almost rolled his eyes but seemed to think better of it, just crossing his arms across his chest.

"Why do you call him 'the Dark Lord'?"

Severus lifted his chin.

Potter didn't look away, stared right back at him, in that infuriatingly defiant way he could and Severus realised, no legilliemency necessary, that he must have been speaking to Malachi, for Severus knew that the boy had confronted Regulus not so long ago to demand the truth about his past.

Severus knew what Potter was really asking him here.

_Are you a Death Eater?_

"Prepare yourself, Potter," Severus said, ignoring the question; "Now that a level of resistance has been reached, I shall increase the magnitude of the spell accordingly."

Potter didn't seem surprised by Severus' deflection, his refusal to answer, and drew in a breath before lifting his wand.

When the boy gave the nod, Severus spoke the incantation.

"Legillimens."

Sirius Black was throwing a toddler Potter in the air while he squealed.

Sirius Black was flying Potter through the air on a broom.

Sirius Black was embracing a tearful Potter in their kitchen.

Sirius Black was dead on the floor.

"Protego!"

It happened so abruptly that Severus was entirely unprepared for it and, suddenly, they were no longer looking at Potter's memories but his own.

" _Watch your step, Snivellus!"_ Sirius Black's voice as a jinx hit him from behind, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

" _Wash your mouth out. Scourgify!"_ James Potter's voice and Severus was gagging and choking on soap and liquid, pink bubbles overflowing from his mouth.

Sirius Black gave him a sneer, standing aside and indicating at the trunk of the Whomping Willow; _"You wanna see what Moony's up to, the knot, it's right under there."_

A werewolf, all glinted eyes and teeth and saliva suddenly took up his entire line of vision in the tunnel and then it lunged for him with a snarl.

" _Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"_

James Potter's face was upside down; an arrogant smirk and eyes full of hate as he looked right at him.

Severus' back hit the shelves of the classroom, as his vision cleared and the memories stopped.

It had lasted mere seconds. But those were enough; enough to present the damning account of those years at Hogwarts and it was far too much, far more than he would ever _dream_ of revealing to the boy. And it was difficult to tell, once Severus had managed to regain control of himself, which of the two of them were more shaken by the unexpected turnaround.

Thank Merlin, Severus had used the pensieve for any memories of Lily and Grace.

There was not even a sniff of triumph from the boy, as he had exhibited just minutes before, when he had managed to demonstrate his first bit of resistance using fabricated memories.

Rather, Potter was staring back at him, looking, for all intents and purposes, as if his world had just been turned upside down.

The dramatics of youth.

"Professor," his voice was quiet; "Was that –"

"Well, I am impressed, Mr Potter," Severus cut him off, attempting to regain control of the situation; "That is your second successful attempt at resistance. Dare I hope for a third?"

"Professor –"

Severus returned the boy's look squarely.

There it was, the first signs of sadness, of _pity_ for him _._

"Was… was that my dad?"

Severus said nothing, felt his own barriers coming up, for he could not, would not answer that; though the memories spoke for themselves.

"And Sirius – he – you almost –"

Severus narrowed his eyes; "We do not talk about the memories, do we, Potter?"

It was the words Potter had spoken to him, the previous lesson, when the boy had not wanted to discuss what was seen and Severus hoped he would get the hint.

He had better, because Severus wasn't going to do this.

No.

Not with Lily's son.

"But … who was 'Moony'? Did – did you know what he was? Or did they – did they send you there –"

Severus lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"Potter. Get out."

They would get nowhere with this.

It was all Severus could do not to grab him and throw him out physically, as the pity in the boy's eyes intensified, as Potter's mind positively reeled as he quickly made sense of what it was he had just seen. Two of the worst possible incidents from that time, with those men, who this boy loved, who had made Severus' life a living hell for seven years.

And Lily would not thank him for this, for revealing it to him.

Nor would Severus wish for it; he would not be reduced to the status of 'victim' in this child's eyes, no.

Severus was mortified. He did not need to be a legillimens to know it was exactly _that_ , that the boy thought of him right now.

Pathetic, weak; as wretched as the child from those memories. And how could he possibly command any respect or discipline from the boy, if that were the case.

"Sir."

"I said," Severus spoke softly, drawing on all the self-control he could muster; "Get out. That concludes our lesson for the day."

Potter just stood there, continuing to stare.

Severus turned away, ignoring him, going to his desk and rifling through the parchments of marking he had already completed, fighting back to the urge to snap, to shout, when he could feel the boy's eyes still on him, though he should.

He _should._

The boy was entirely too comfortable with him, it seemed, for no other student would dare to look at him in such a way, standing there brazenly, not following the order to leave immediately, and Severus raised glowering eyes from the parchments to Potter and it was only then that the boy finally did as he was told, turning and heading from the room.


	46. May 1994: Ghosts of Hogwarts Past

"Does he know about the prophecy?"

"That is unlikely. But, obviously, I couldn't ask."

"Couldn't you just look?"

"That is not the purpose of the lessons. I only view the memories he offers up. It would be disrespectful, if I were to take advantage."

Lily nodded, slowly, before she drew back to look at him; "Is he okay?"

"Shaken, somewhat. As you'd expect when you're aware that you are to be hunted."

Severus brushed the hair that had tumbled forward back over her shoulder, before leaning up to press a kiss to the newly exposed flesh below her ear; "But he is stronger than I gave him credit for."

Lily was smiling when he leaned back, allowing his head to rest back against the less-than-comfortable floor of his office. His office at the Foundation. The doors – _both_ doors – now double, nay, _triple_ locked.

Lily had come back to him, perhaps a week after the first encounter, and Severus had been beyond eager to continue what they had started that day. The slightest hint that she was keen for the same and he had her pressed against the desk, the two of them touching and tasting and _grinding_ together until Severus had finally given in and started undoing the buttons of her blouse.

Took his time, because they may as well do it _right_ if they were going to go ahead with it, and he only surrendered himself when she was beneath him, gasping and hopelessly pliable in his hands.

Now, of course, he was more than a little embarrassed at his weakness.

They had just had sex. In the _office_.

How the Mighty have fallen, indeed. Severus had always scorned those who could not control themselves, so much so that they thought it appropriate to completely disrobe and satisfy their basic urges in the middle of a workday. It was obscene!

With a brief glance in the direction of the adjourning door, he wondered if Regulus had heard the clicks of the locks being enacted. If he was sitting on the other side snickering and rehearsing some ridiculous spiel to the same effects as Severus' previous thoughts.

He had always disparaged Regulus of his lack of control when it came to women, after all.

And now Severus, himself, had joined the ranks of the uncontrollable.

Severus shouldn't be enjoying it but he was.

Pah. It was worth it.

"Should I come to the school? Speak with him?"

"I doubt Harry would appreciate that," Severus attempted to dissuade her; "As it happens, he appears to be a little more willing to put himself in my hands, to some degree, during these lessons which is having the happy effect of increasing his focus and, in turn, his chances of success. His mother showing up in his dorm room demanding answers to questions arising from said lessons would lead only lead him to distrust me, potentially undoing all that has been achieved."

Indeed, his standing with the boy was already on shaky enough ground as it was right now, following the events of their more recent encounter. Severus had not told Lily the details of _that_ , saying only that her son's abilities had improved well enough that he was now capable of fighting him off, somewhat.

Severus had yet to see how the revelations from this morning would affect the lessons, longer term, now that his acrimonious relationship with his father and Godfather had been brought to light.

Lily was smiling, warmly, when his mind came back to the present.

"What?"

"Harry, is it?"

Severus tilted his head to the side, realising the, seeming, slip; "Indeed. As you have always insisted."

"Which you have always ignored."

"I do not ignore it. I slip up. Only to be expected, when I spend so much of my time with him regarding him as 'Potter'."

"Ah. And now you regard him as 'Harry', do you?"

Severus gave her a smile, before lowering his eyes, thinking on it, the change in perceptions.

Which seemed to have pleased Lily greatly, as his thought process did not get far – only enough for him to concede, in his mind, that the boy had very quickly and easily managed to step out from the picture Severus had assumed of him in his mind when he was simply Lily's son, and the boy he was sworn to protect, presenting himself as this living, breathing, engaging child – before Lily took his face in her hands and kissed him, deeply, practically purring with approval when she did.

Severus chuckled against her lips, unable to help himself, and it was easy to pretend, in that moment, that this was entirely right and normal, and forget the true circumstances that had led them to this; reacquainting themselves on the office floor.

"Ugh, I better go."

Lily stood, leaving him bereft of her weight above him, beginning to dress, and Severus stood to do the same.

"I have to check in at St Mungo's on the way home," she explained, as she did up the buttons of her blouse.

"A new trial?"

"No. Well. Yes, I suppose," Lily shrugged into her robes, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Lily?" Severus probed further, when he quickly picked up on her discomfort.

She met his eyes, drawing in a breath, as if forcing herself to push on with whatever she was going to say; "Healer Clay approached me the other day. He thinks that James –" she stumbled a little over the name; "- might benefit from the new variations his team have been working on. So…"

"Ah. So you have set up a meeting with him."

Lily nodded, meeting his eyes, and Severus could swear there was almost an apology in them when they did.

He only nodded; "Of course. Well. Give Clay my best, it has been some time since I've had the chance to converse with him."

"I will," Lily smiled, in seeming relief, and then she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him down for another kiss.

"I love you," she murmured against his lips, before she drew back.

Severus pressed his forehead to hers, smiling warmly; "I am aware."

He very quickly deduced that it seemed as if she needed to hear that, more that a reaffirmation of his own feelings.

Her smile widened and she giggled, rolling her eyes, and stepped away, making backwards steps towards the door; "It was a pleasure to see you again, Professor," she dipped her head slightly at the title, and he smirked, quickly casting the charms to open the curtains and unlock the doors, granting her leave.

And, after she did, could only roll his eyes, for it was the second time that day that James Potter had invaded a perfectly happy moment, and he wondered if they would ever be able to escape the shadow that that, particular, ghost cast over his family.

* * *

Harry felt sick.

He didn't even know that Snape had _known_ his father and Uncle Sirius.

The unexpected discovery that not only he had but they had treated him like _that_ had hit him like a bludger to the stomach. Along with a sudden realisation why Snape had seemed to dislike him so much for the past three years. All the detentions, the weird looks, the refusal to engage, even when Harry raised his hand in class; it was all about his dad.

Other than a hazy memory of his dad lying there, staring straight through him from his hospital bed, the look of loathing on James Potter's face when Harry looked at him in Snape's memories was the only image he had in his mind of the man who had married his mum and been his dad.

Harry wanted to erase it, immediately.

He had no memories of his dad, no, but he liked what he had _heard_ , ever since coming up to Hogwarts. People praising him to the skies for being a hero, a Quidditch legend, a prankster, Head Boy, telling Harry he looked just like him, that he _was_ just like him.

They could not be talking about the same man Harry had just seen in Snape's memories.

But then, memories don't lie, he saw it with his own two eyes.

Sending Snape down a tunnel to meet a w _erewolf –_ Harry was certain that's what it was, though he'd only ever seen sketch works of them in his DADA textbooks – and taking his underwear off in front of the whole school. Harry was mortified just to have seen it, even in _memory_ form, nevermind as a spectator or, worse, the victim of it.

Poor Snape!

He couldn't help but think it, though he knew the Potions Professor would not thank him for it.

Of course, Snape had picked up on his thoughts immediately – perhaps through legilliemency but Harry doubted he would have needed it, he was so shaken by it all – and kicked him out, immediately.

But it wasn't all his dad.

It was Sirius, too.

Harry may have only been seven when he lost him but he remembered everything about him. Everything. The way he would smile and hold his hand and hug him tight and tell him that he loved him. How he would laugh and play and be kind, the kindest and the best, and he had _died_ for him when he could have just gotten out of the way and lived.

Harry couldn't believe what he had seen.

Would Snape obliviate him, if he asked, and save them both the mortification of this?

But, then, that was stupid. Erasing the memory wouldn't erase the truth.

Harry went through his classes in a daze, skipping breakfast and only going to dinner reluctantly when his stomach growled and tightened, painfully, reminding him that he hadn't even eaten anything at all that day.

Snape was at the teacher's table.

Ignoring him, of course.

Harry couldn't help his eyes drifting in his direction, even if he tried.

Professor Flitwick on Snape's left said something to him, getting his attention, and he raised his head to answer, his eyes meeting Harry's as he did.

Harry held his look.

Snape's eyes narrowed somewhat, after several moments passed, and then they lifted skywards and he shook his head, turning his attention entirely back to his almost-empty plate in front of him.

"What is it, Harry?"

Harry's attention was drawn back to those he had joined at the Gryffindor table when Hermione asked him the question.

"What?"

"You're been staring at Professor Snape ever since you got here. Has something happened?" Hermione asked, glancing between him and Snape.

"Oh. No? What could have happened?"

"I don't know. Maybe something during your private classes?"

"What?" Harry felt himself go pale.

"Your Remedial Potions classes," Hermione clarified, looking at him with a frown; "This morning, remember?"

"Oh. Those. Nah. They're going fine. Hey, Snape even said I was doing better. So."

"Well, that's good, then, isn't it? If you like, I could help you with anything you're unsure about. I was just about to draw up a study schedule for us, now that the exams are almost –"

Hermione's voice drowned out to nothingness, as Harry attention went back to the teacher's table up ahead.

His Uncle Remus had just joined them, giving a nod and a smiling hello in Snape's direction. Snape eyed him, returning the greeting with far less enthusiasm, and it was as if a light bulb had gone off in Harry's head.

Remus!

He had been at school with them, his dad and Uncle Sirius. Which meant he surely knew Snape back then, too, and, judging by the less-than-thrilled expression on Snape's face when they had spoken, Harry was pretty sure it stemmed from that time and, probably, Remus' involvement in it all, even if he hadn't been in any of the memories Harry had witnessed.

It was all Harry could do not to march up to the table and demand to speak to Remus _right now_ , even as he only just began to fill up his plate.

Harry waited, impatiently, watching as Snape took his leave, studiously avoiding looking in Harry's direction at all. Waited and turned down Hermione's suggestion that they get to work revising straight away – ' _we only have a few more weeks to go, now, you know' –_ and watched Remus take each bite with infuriating slowness.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table, watching him, shooting a returning smile Malachi's way when he walked by the table, heading back to the dungeons Harry guessed, and then turned his eyes back to Remus.

It was only half an hour, if that, but it felt like an age before Remus finally stood up to take his leave, making his way across the Great Hall at the opposite side of the room, towards the corridors.

Harry gathered up his things quickly and scrambled after him, almost breaking into a run by the time he caught up to him just outside the Hall.

Remus halted, hearing the commotion as Harry stumbled through the door, banging into it as he did. He shot him a wide smile; "Ah, hello, Harry. You seem in quite the rush this evening."

"Hi Uncle Remus."

"Uncle Remus is it, tonight?" Remus grinned, quickly picking up on the fact Harry's eagerness was to get to him.

"Yeah. I need to talk to you."

"I gathered. It seems rather urgent?"

"It's about my dad."

The playful smile on Remus' face lost some of its lustre, dimming more to a compassionate glance, and then he nodded, touching a hand to Harry's shoulder and guiding him in the direction of the Tower; "We'll talk in my chambers then, shall we?"

Harry only nodded, feeling breathless, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was the almost-run to get to Remus or his nerves that had done it, but he still didn't feel entirely composed when they eventually stepped across the threshold into his uncle's compartments. A place he hadn't actually had a chance to visit in the almost full year that Remus had been there.

"Hot chocolate, Harry?"

"Can't say no to that."

Remus chuckled; "No, you never could. Make yourself at home, I'll just be a minute."

Harry smiled, doing just that, taking a slow walk around the warm room that Remus had been allocated. There were books all over the shelves, haphazardly tossed here and there, and there were moving pictures, too, on various surfaces. There was one there of Remus and three other boys, when they were young, looking about Harry's age now, and Harry quickly recognised his Uncle Sirius to be one of the boys. Another careful glance and Harry was certain the one with the glasses was his dad. And another boy Harry didn't recognise on the end.

All the other pictures in the room were of him and Grace.

"Here you are," Remus said, as he stepped towards him from the kitchenette, holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate out to him; "Careful."

Harry took it, blowing on it and taking a sip immediately; "Thanks."

He nodded at the moving image of himself and Grace on the mantel; "I remember that. It was a nightmare. Trying to get Grace to stay close enough to me to be in the picture."

Remus laughed and nodded, lifting his own mug to his lips; "Yes, I do, too. She is quite the stubborn young lady, your sister."

"Do you miss them? Her and Mum, now that you're working here?"

"Ah, of course. But it is not a loss, no, not when I have someone I am equally fond of within these very walls."

Harry smiled, widely; "I'm glad you're here too, Uncle Remus."

"Of course. How else would you be able to satisfy your curiosity, if you had a question to ask and I weren't?"

Harry nodded, accepting the probe; "I wanted to ask you about my dad."

"What would you like to know?"

"What he was like. Really."

"Really?" Remus repeated, frowning curiously, as if confused at the inclusion of the word, but he went on without waiting for elaboration; "Well, your dad, he was very bright. Incredibly loyal. And far too cocky for his own good."

"So cocky he'd send another kid down a tunnel to a werewolf and think it's okay?"

Remus blanched, meeting Harry's eyes sharply.

"Wha – who…who told you that?"

"No one," Harry said, putting down his mug and more than a little confused at how horrified Remus looked; "I saw it. In Snape's memories. The Legilliemency spell rebounded during one of our lessons that I was telling you about."

Remus swallowed, glancing away; "I see."

"You would have known Snape at school back then, too, wouldn't you? Did you know what my dad did?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well. Tell me, then. I want to know."

Remus drew in a breath, seeming to avoid his eyes as he spoke; "As far as I'm aware, it was someone else who sent Professor Snape after the werewolf that night. And your father intercepted him, in an attempt to save him from being injured."

"Or eaten. You know, _killed_ ," Harry said, with a shrug, because ' _injured'_ seemed like it would have been the _best_ case scenario in the situation; "And 'someone else'? It was Uncle Sirius."

"Did Professor Snape speak to you?"

"No. He kicked me out. But the memories speak for themselves, right?"

"Hm."

Harry found himself growing frustrated by Remus' lack of response, lack of _outrage_ over the whole thing, as he surely must agree with him how wrong it was, even if he _was_ their friend.

Harry snapped; "How could they _do_ that? _Why_ would they?"

"Your father and Professor Snape, and Uncle Sirius, they had a very complicated relationship."

" _Complicated_?" Harry shook his head, feeling himself getting worked up as he reminded himself of all the other stuff he had seen; "I saw other things too, Uncle Remus. They were awful to him! My dad hung him upside down and took his underwear off in front of the whole school!"

"You saw all of this?"

"Yeah. I did. Did _you?"_

Remus looked utterly ashamed all of a sudden and he nodded, glancing away; "Yes. I did."

"Uncle Sirius called it 'Moony', the werewolf. It was like he knew it."

Remus drew in a breath, meeting Harry's eyes and sounding defeated when he spoke; "Harry, will you sit down? Please?"

Harry couldn't refuse. As worked up as he had felt, it was almost instantly deflated when he saw the look in Remus' eyes. As if he suddenly had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

They sat on the couch, Remus turning to face him.

"It was me, Harry."

Harry frowned, confused at the assertion; "What?"

"The werewolf you saw in Snape's memories. It was - _is_ me."

For a minute, all Harry could do was stare.

"You're a werewolf?"

Remus nodded, slowly, a faraway look in his eyes; "There was an incident, long before I began at Hogwarts. I was bitten. And so the story goes."

"I…I had no idea."

"No. I was preparing to tell you, probably very soon. I suppose this has ensured I didn't back out."

It all made perfect sense, now that Harry knew the truth.

Every month, for as long as Harry could remember, Remus would disappear up to Scotland for days at a time, and return pale and sickly, looking like _death_ in some case. Harry had known he was unwell, sure, but he hadn't made the link to the moon cycle, not ever.

Harry had no idea what to say. Except that he should maybe apologise, or something, because he'd just been calling his Uncle Remus this raging, dangerous animal and accused him of trying to eat Snape, and hadn't he just referred to him as an 'It'?

He said none of those things, his voice quiet when he finally asked; "Does it hurt?"

"Oh. Not for a long while, Harry," Remus shook his head, giving him a small smile; "There is a potion, Wolfsbane, that Professor Snape has been kind enough to provide me with. It eases most of the pain, allows me to maintain control of myself, to a degree. The wolf still emerges each full moon, but I keep control of my mind, my senses. I spend most of the time asleep, when not going through the transformations."

"Uncle Remus, I'm so sorry," Harry blurted out, suddenly overcome with guilt about all he had just said.

"Oh, Harry, don't be. Believe me, I've experienced much worse. And, besides, what you saw; you should not have had to see that. You shouldn't have had to learn about it this way."

Remus reached out, squeezing his shoulder, and giving him a warm smile, that very same smile that always made Harry feel safe and he released the breath he was holding.

"Did you…did you know what they were going to do?"

"Ah. No. Your Uncle Sirius…he was rather impulsive, shall we say, and did not often think of the consequences of his actions, even at the best of times. Certainly, if your dad hadn't intervened, it wouldn't have gone well for either of us; neither myself or Professor Snape."

"Why would he do that, though? What did Snape ever do to them?"

"Oh, well, there were a lot of issues there, between the three of them. A rivalry that had already begun, before I had even befriended them."

"A rivalry? It didn't look like rivalry to me. It looked like two on one."

Remus nodded, slowly, and Harry was pretty certain that, no, it wasn't two on one; it was those four boys in the picture against Snape. The guilt in his Uncle Remus' expression did nothing to dispel the certainty.

"We were…unkind to Professor Snape. As you said, the memories speak for themselves. It is not an aspect of my life that I'm proud of. Nor would your father be. But I wouldn't want this to taint your entire view of your dad, Harry. There were so many good qualities, so much goodness about him. He was just a bit of a plonker, that's all, when he was young. As most boys are, at fifteen."

Harry swallowed, finding it hard to believe, in light of what he'd seen.

He was only _thirteen_ and even he wasn't that much of a 'plonker', as Remus put it.

Harry had never seen _anything_ like it, ever. Even Ron and Draco didn't go at one another like that. And the Slytherins who bothered Malachi, hexes and jinxes, sometimes, Harry knew; but never _that._

"That's why Professor Snape hates me. Because of what my dad and Uncle Sirius did to him."

Remus frowned; "Professor Snape doesn't hate you, Harry."

Harry shrugged, eyes on the floor, his need for reassurance about his Uncle Sirius and his dad not at all satisfied by the conversation – instead, he was just left wondering _who else_ had a secret to tell, because it seemed as if everyone had something to hide.

Regulus Black was a Death Eater.

Uncle Remus was a werewolf.

His Uncle Sirius had tried to kill Snape.

And his dad…

Harry drew in a breath, meeting Remus' eyes; "I better go, I guess. Curfew."

"I can get you out of that if you want to stay a little longer."

Harry shook his head, getting to his feet; "It's okay. I'm a bit tired, anyway. The classes with Snape are really early, you know?"

Remus gave him a small smile, that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Harry quickly realised that he might be thinking that Harry had a problem with it; with him being a werewolf.

Harry quickly reassured him; "I'm not scared of you. Or upset. Or anything like that." He gave him a smile; "You're still just Uncle Remus."

Harry thought Remus' eyes glimmered, before he blinked and gave him another smile, a better one this time, and Harry gave him a tight hug, to reassert it.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"You will. Goodnight, Harry."

"Night, Uncle Remus."

Harry kept thinking about it, about his dad and his Uncle Sirius and the werewolf – his Uncle Remus – even once his eyelids closed, and sleep came over him, the faces of them all lingering in his dreams until they, eventually faded away as the all-too-familiar nightmares of Voldemort and his Death Eaters returned once more.

* * *

"You found it! Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost it, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Jules," Lily waved a hand, smiling; "It's just a scarf."

"Where was it?"

Lily shot her a look, her smile turning more mischievous; "You have no idea?"

Julia raised her eyes sideways, pretending to think, even as her lips twitched; "Well. From that look I'm guessing something dirty. Yeah, it's starting to come back to me now."

"Jules, really?" Lily laughed, taking a seat beside her at the table; "Regulus Black? _Again_?"

"Oh, it's just a bit of fun, Lil'."

"I know but…you remember, you're not the only one?"

"We all know Black."

"And it doesn't bother you? That he…" Lily didn't say anything more, because it seemed almost disrespectful to say it out loud – what a _slut_ Regulus was, even if it were totally true – what with the understanding she had of who he really was and all he had done for her and Harry since before he even really knew them.

"Believe me when I say it, it's worth it. There's a reason all the women are flocking him," Julia stated, grinning, and there wasn't a doubt in Lily's mind as she looked at her that she meant what she was saying – that she really _didn't_ mind that she was simply a 'notch', so to speak – before Julia elaborated, with a cheeky smile; "He's _really_ good."

"Aw, Jules," Lily pressed a hand to her face, laughing as she did, because she _really_ didn't want to hear any more about the sex life of her boss and Severus' best friend.

"Speaking of which, there's a rumour doing the rounds right now, have you heard it?" Julia asked, feigned innocence as she eyed her.

Lily felt her heart sink; "About Grace?"

"Mhm."

"I've heard. It's not true."

Julia tilted her chin, looking at Lily carefully; "I wouldn't be upset if it were, Lily. I remember how it was for the two of you back then. After what happened to Sirius."

"Well, it's not." Lily reasserted, before she drew in a breath, frowning; "I can't believe it got all the way to Veil Baxters."

"Oh, nothing spreads faster than juicy gossip, Lil'," Julia said, with a grin; "Of course, I knew it wasn't true. I've got _my_ money on Grace's mystery dad being a certain tall, dark and sexy Potions Master we all remember."

Lily rolled her eyes, and it was easy to smile under Julia's teasing glance, but she was saved from having to fend off the accusation or lie about it by Grace, appearing in the doorway.

Lily could remember it all as if it were yesterday.

She remembered standing in Severus' chambers in Hogwarts, that night she gone to him, after a week of believing him to be dead, adamant that enough was enough. She wasn't taking no for an answer, not now, not after getting within a hairbreadth of losing him. Time was too short, life was too precious for them to waste any more of it.

Even as he insisted that he was no good for her, could give her nothing, that she deserved more than a life of lies and fear and deceit – as if that was truly all it could be! – she had spoken back with the same vehemence against his arguments; that she could do it, she _would_ do it if only they could be together.

She was _that_ sure of them.

She remembered going head to head with Remus as he demanded she think of the consequences, think of them, think of _Harry_ , and did Severus _really_ know what he was getting into here; would he take James Potter's son as his own. And it had seemed a ludicrous question at the time, no way could Lily ask him that, when he wouldn't even commit to _them_ and now here they were.

And she remembered standing toe to toe with Sirius as he cried betrayal and insanity and dropped the ultimatum on her, there and then, it was him or Severus and she hadn't even entertained it, that she would chose otherwise, and Sirius had walked out the door making the same assertions that both Severus and Remus had made before him.

That they would never make it.

That she would never be happy, not as long as she was choosing this.

And they were _wrong._

Obviously, the circumstances were not ideal. Obviously, the reality of the life they had ended up with was far from the picture perfect family life she had been told was the right and normal thing to strive for as a girl. Obviously, it was harder, so much harder, than either she or Severus had imagined it would be as they had finally surrendered themselves to one another that night, a cold and dreary night in November as the world seemed to be crumbling around them.

But of all the years, of all the times and all the memories Lily had made since she was a child, she could honestly say that the happiest, the brightest of them all, could be found in those six years between Voldemort's fall the second time and now, when it was all coming tumbling down.

Harry's face, curious and wide eyed and smiling, as he set eyes on his new baby sister for the first time, placing a kiss to her cheek and giggling in delight when her eyes opened to peer up at her big brother.

Grace running into Severus' arms whenever he could find the chance to come home, to be with them.

Harry standing proudly and tall, showing off his new Hogwarts uniform – Gryffindor, of course – when he returned home for his first Christmas after going to school.

Her children playing and laughing and rolling around in the garden, as Grace looked up to her brother in adoration and Harry down at his sister, utterly besotted.

And it was simple things, really, that made it all worth it.

They were not unhappy.

Lily could do it.

She was certain of it. She could do it. She didn't regret a single thing about this.

The secrets, the lies, none of that mattered as long as they had this and their children were safe and loved.

At least, that was how it was for those blissful six years.

Until now.

Until her son, no longer that little boy who knew no better, needed to be protected, turned to her and declared he wasn't a child anymore and dared her to lie to him.

" _A life of lies and deceit…what of your son? Of Lupin? Of Black? You would lie to them?"_

Severus had thrown the question at her, in his attempts to make her see sense, and she had been adamant, so, so sure that she could and she would.

But she hadn't had to.

Not really.

Remus had known about it all before it even began, and he knew not to ask any questions, not ever.

And Sirius, he learned of it so quickly afterwards, that those few months of secrecy were merely a blip and it wasn't that she had kept it from him that made the situation a betrayal to him, no. It was who she had fallen for, that was where the issue lay there.

But Harry.

Seven years old at the time, she could pass it off, turn a blind eye, lying wasn't necessary because simple misdirection was more than enough. Grace came along when he was still so young and, without a father himself, the question of hers couldn't be further from his mind until, suddenly, one day, it wasn't.

And, for the life of her, Lily couldn't do it.

She could look into the eyes of her son and _lie_ to him. But misdirection wasn't cutting it and even the half truth that, yes, there was a secret and no, I can't tell you did nothing to satisfy him, nor was it wasn't enough to lift the weight that had, quite suddenly, come crushing down upon her when she realised just how deep she and Severus had gotten themselves into this. How there was no way they were ever going to be able to climb out of it, not before this war was done, not if they wanted to keep their children safe. To give them all the best chance of getting through this, just of _surviving_ it.

But it was going on too long now.

Far longer than either she or Severus could have predicted.

Her little boy was becoming a man right before her eyes, time ticking by mercilessly, and her daughter, from baby to child, and Voldemort still hadn't risen, and she and Severus had foolishly hoped and dreamed that this would all be _done with_ by now and they'd be living that fairytale life that folklore and pop culture told them was normal.

That dream seemed so far out of reach now that Lily had to content herself with one simple fact.

That even if her children hated her for it, for the lies, the secrets, even if she lost them that it was better that they did so and lived, rather than put them in danger just so they could know the truth.

Because the truth, in this case, was in no way liberating, as Remus was quick to point out when he confronted her.

And if Remus resented her for knowing it then what chance did her children have, having to bear the burden of it.

And, yes, Severus was right.

There was no way they could do that to them.

They were _children_. Growing up, maybe, but they were innocent and pure and they deserved to keep that for as long as she could give it to them.

And so she would.

Her thoughts carried on, all through the evening, long after Julia left until she was tucking Grace into bed that night, after her story had ended.

Innocent questions from her daughter, now, that Lily answered as truly as she possibly could.

"Mummy, when is Daddy coming home?"

"When it's safe, Sweetheart."

"How come it's not safe now?" Grace frowned.

Lily brushed the hair back from her forehead, leaning down to press a kiss before she spoke; "Because that's what Daddy does. He makes sure the world is safe for us."

"Oh."

Lily tucked her in tight, just the way she likes, and drew back; "But you can speak to him, you know. Say things that you think he might like to hear. And I could write them down, to give them to him when he comes back."

Grace smiled; "We could?"

Lily nodded and Grace's eyes lit up, her smile widening.

Lily leaned down, kissing her cheek; "We'll write a letter tomorrow."

"Okay, Mummy."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"Night, night. Sleep tight."

"That's right," Lily chuckled, as she lifted her wand, a quiet _'nox'_ uttered, before she slipped from the room.

* * *

Harry still felt rotten about it all, what he'd seen in Snape's memories, even days later, his conversation with Remus doing nothing to reconcile the men he'd thought he knew with the very real visions of what they were at school.

He tried to tell himself that his Uncle Remus was right, they were just plonkers, that was all. They were just kids. They didn't know any better.

But that was just rubbish.

 _He_ knew better.

And Harry was a kid. He'd bet his own friends might even look back on some of the things he did now and call him a plonker, too. But he knew, without doubt, he'd never do any of _those_ things that he'd seen in those memories.

He'd never make anyone feel the way he was sure Snape had and then laugh it all off as if it were a joke.

And, so, it was with those thoughts and assurances, that Harry had gone back to his Occlumency lessons, later that week. And obviously he was utterly terrible at it now, totally unable to focus, completely distracted by his newfound knowledge of what his dad and Godfather had done to the man in front of him. Harry was entirely certain that the reason Snape didn't like him was because of it all.

Harry didn't know why he cared so much what Snape thought of him, all of a sudden.

All he knew was that he _did_.

"Come on, Potter. You can do better than this."

Snape was frustrated, Harry could tell; that exasperated tone in the professor's voice when he, once again, managed to penetrate his mind with barely any resistance at all.

Try as he might, Harry just couldn't focus.

"I'm trying. I don't know why I can't do it," Harry lied, knowing full well why not.

They both did.

And Snape wasn't going to let him off with _that,_ calling him out without missing a beat.

"You know exactly _why,_ Mr Potter, we both do."

Harry sighed, shuffling on the spot, avoiding his eyes.

"We have been over this again and again. Control your emotions. Stop wearing that bleeding heart on your sleeve."

"I'm not wearing my heart on my sleeve," Harry denied the claim, vehemently, wondering why, _why,_ did he even care what had happened back then, anyway; Snape was an arse!

"Prove it."

Snape lifted his wand but he didn't speak the incantation. He waited, raising an eyebrow, waiting for the nod to go ahead. Harry's shoulders almost dropped but he knew better than to provoke Snape further with his defiance, so he mustered up as much control as he could, tried to erect _some_ barriers at least, and nodded his head.

"Legillimens."

" _So cocky he'd send another kid down a tunnel to a werewolf and think it's okay?"_

It was his conversation with Remus and Harry tried to fight back against it, succeeding in only rippling it somewhat, a quick glimpse of himself and Remus when he was younger, playing in the garden and Grace was there too, only a toddler, and so was his mum, and it seemed like Snape pressed a little further then, trying to see the memory more clearly, his mum and his sister's smiling faces, but then the memory from earlier that week was back.

Too much at the forefront of Harry's mind.

" _How could they_ do _that?_ Why _would they?"_

" _Your father and Professor Snape, and your Uncle Sirius, they had a very complicated relationship."_

The office was back again.

Snape pulling out of the memory without any need for him to fight against it.

Harry expected to see Snape's glowering face when his vision cleared but he was presented with his back instead, as the Potions Master strode to his desk.

"Take a few minutes."

"I don't need a few minutes."

Snape stopped in his footsteps and Harry was sure he was rolling his eyes, before he turned back to face him.

"Potter. Get it together."

"I can't!" Harry burst out, unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer; "I saw it. I know what happened. And just because my dad did that to you, it doesn't mean that I –"

Snape held up a hand.

"I shall stop you there, Potter. This is not a topic that is up for discussion. By all means, bend Professor Lupin's ear about the trials and tribulations of your father to your hearts content, but do not bring your emotional baggage into my classroom."

Harry glowered at him; "It's your emotional baggage, too, though, right."

Snape's eyes narrowed; "Ten points, Mr Potter. For your insolence. And spare me the theatrics, do not fool yourself into believing that the boy you witnessed in those memories is any reflection of the man who stands before you _now."_

"You've spent the past three years giving me detentions for nothing, ignoring me whenever I offer up any answers in classes and –"

"Lo, the theatrics go on. You are certainly your Godfather's…"

There was a pause.

A heavy one, when Snape broke off.

Harry wasn't sure what Snape had been about to say. 'Son', maybe, as that seemed like the best fit. Though how Snape knew that his Uncle Sirius had raised him, Harry didn't know. Had he kept tabs on them, his dad and Sirius, since they'd left Hogwarts?

Snape said nothing further. Instead, he drew in a breath, as if to compose himself, and looked away.

Harry took it as an invitation to continue himself.

"Look, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry that my dad –"

Snape gave an irritated exhale that was almost a growl.

" _Enough_. You seem to be under the impression that I hold you in some way responsible for your father's shortcomings. Let me assure you, right now, that is not the case. At this moment in time, my displeasure is entirely due to your own. So do as I ask. Get it together. And keep me _out_ of that blinking head of yours or so help me, I will think nothing of hauling you back into this office _every day_ for the remainder of the year until you do."

"You're such a…"

Harry stopped himself, suddenly remembering who it was he was talking to and _why_ was he talking to him this way, anyway?

A few weeks ago he wouldn't have dreamed of it. Of speaking to Snape _at all._ He didn't know why, what had done it, what had made him feel as if he was entirely safe to do so, the tiny ways that things had changed between them over the past few weeks.

Because, sure enough, Snape was speaking to him with a strange familiarity, too. One that shouldn't exist.

But he quickly reminded himself, looking at the glint in Snape's eyes as he regarded him, daring him to finish his sentence, that he was entirely mistaken and Snape would _crush_ him if he weren't careful.

"Go on."

Snape's voice was dangerously soft when he spoke.

Harry pursed his lips together.

_Yeah, right._

Snape's lips twitched but it wasn't a sneer, no. Harry almost thought he was going to smile.

 _Why_ would he smile?

Snape was totally bonkers, Harry decided.

Harry didn't know whether he was coming or going when it came to the Potions Professor.

"You have one minute, Mr Potter. And then we resume."

Snape's back was to him again and Harry released a breath he didn't know he was holding, his shoulders dropping, and he simply stared at the man's back for the full minute that had been granted, trying to make sense of him.

Harry didn't feel quite so awful now, the verbal sparring between them easing the weight somewhat, as he assured himself that surely Snape would have gotten his own back, in some way, against them. Harry had spent the past few days imagining a wretched soul, skittering amongst the Hogwarts shadows, in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to himself from his father and Uncle Sirius.

But that wasn't Snape.

Harry was sure that the boy in the memories was just as proud, back then, as the man before him was, now. No matter how much Snape tried to assure him that they were both entirely different, with time.

Snape would have gotten his own back.

Harry found that he secretly hoped that he _had_.

Snape turned abruptly to face him once more.

"Ready now?"

Harry nodded, immediately.

Pulled up as much resistance as he could and waited for it.

"Legillimens."

Harry pushed back against it.

The office was swimming before him, his line of vision hazy but it was still there, he could still see Snape and the desk and the shelves behind him. Remus in his chambers, talking to him, it was there, too, but the office was the prominent focus and Harry felt himself becoming excited, pushing back as best he could and then Snape prodded a little further.

And, suddenly, it wasn't Remus' chambers or their conversation or the office that Harry could see anymore.

It was simply darkness.

There was a ' _hissssss'_ coming from his own lips as he slithered, blindly, through it.

Darkness gave way to fire light and masked faces, the ones from his nightmares, were suddenly surrounding him.

And then that voice. The voice Harry would never forget.

" _Soon, my friends. Soon."_

Harry fought it. Fought it with all his might and cried out, pushing back as hard as he could, until he felt his knees collide sharply with the stone floor of Snape's office. Before Harry could fully make sense of what had happened, he felt a hand curl round his arm and pull him to his feet. It wasn't painful, no, but it wasn't exactly gentle either and Snape was right in his face when his vision cleared.

"What was that, Potter?"

Harry gave himself a mental shake; "Uh…I…I don't know."

"It was not a memory."

Harry swallowed, meeting Snape's eyes, feeling suddenly uneasy; "No."

"Nor was it a fabrication, I presume."

Harry only shook his head.

Snape pursed his lips together, eyes narrowing, and Harry could tell Snape was uneasy and he was paler than usual, too, as he looked straight at him, seemingly contemplating what he had just seen.

"Mr Potter. Please, explain to me, why you did not think it necessary to inform someone that you have been having visions of the Dark Lord?"

"I…they…they're not 'visions'. They're just nightmares. I've been having them for months."

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently.

Snape hand came up, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, as his eyes squeezed shut.

"And I did," Harry quickly added; "I told my mum. That's why I'm here, isn't it? She told Professor Dumbledore and he wants me to learn this to stop them or something."

"These are not typical nightmares, Potter. Surely even you are aware of that. You know very well whose voice that was."

"I didn't want to make a fuss."

"A fuss," Snape repeated, quietly, staring straight back at him, even as he drew away somewhat, releasing the hold he had of Harry's arm.

Snape was looking at him as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was the most idiotic being to ever grace the planet.

He turned on his heel, abruptly, striding to his desk, and began gathering up some of the items upon it – parchment, a quill, a jar of ink – and then walked with the same purpose back towards him, going by him, and placing each item with a thud onto the small side table by the chair next to where Harry stood.

"You will write down everything that you have seen. Every word. Every face. Every location."

"What?"

"Now."

"Why?"

"Because, Potter, you are having visions of the Dark Lord. And this information may provide key to his whereabouts."

"I…I thought that Vold – I didn't think he was _alive_ anymore. I…I thought that he was _gone_."

For now, at least.

"As did I, Mr Potter."

Harry stared at Snape for a minute, and he was suddenly frightened, so frightened that he felt like he might actually cry.

Snape's expression, which had been conveying a most definite apprehension of his own, softened somewhat as he looked at him. And then Snape reached out, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry thought it was supposed to be reassuring, fooled by the way it squeezed, ever so slightly for a second, but then Snape guided him sideways, urging him to sit.

So, it wasn't comfort then, Harry realised, even as the hand lingered a little longer than necessary after he lowered himself onto the chair, before it dropped, and Snape returned to his desk at the front of the room.

Harry drew in a trembling breath, trying to push away his anxiety, and remember it all. Everything he had seen in his dreams since they had started, seemingly so long ago now, and lifted the quill Snape had put on the table, dipping it into the jar, and, after a minute of attempting to recount it, began to write it all down.


	47. June 1994: Among Us

Dumbledore was unsurprised.

Concerned.

But unsurprised.

Which only meant that the Headmaster knew far more about what was going on than Severus did.

Rather than springing to action, hurrying to gather the troops, prepare for the inevitable war – that seemed far closer, now, than Severus could have predicted – Dumbledore had simply asserted the need for the occlumency lessons to continue, now as a matter of urgency, as he had done when Severus had first gone to him the month before regarding a possible connection between the Dark Lord and the boy's scar.

Not that the Headmaster had spoken urgently, of course. Rather, he dealt with the whole thing as calmly and rationally, as ever.

Which was more than could be said for Severus, who was beyond rattled by the unexpected discovery that Potter had been getting glimpses into the Dark Lord's mind for the past few months. Perhaps even longer if what the boy was telling him measured up; that he had been having nightmares for _years_ and, no, they hadn't always been like this, but he couldn't, really, remember when it was they had started the change.

For all the understanding Severus had started to develop towards the boy, it never ceased to amaze him how little sense Potter exhibited when it came to matters of such importance; notably, life and death!

Potter acted as if the entire ordeal with the Dark Lord was a game in which he were an equal player. Chasing the Philosopher's Stone, entering the Chamber of Secrets and, now, concealing the fact he had an open window view of the Dark Lord's current dealings.

Severus flicked through the parchments Potter had given to him, after he had finished recounting and writing down as much as he could remember, but it was for naught. Glimpses, flashes, nothing concrete; nothing at all that would help Severus in his endeavours to locate him and the congregated followers.

His conversation with Dumbledore offering little in the way of assurances, Severus had gone to Regulus immediately upon his arrival at the Foundation.

"Has your Mark burned?"

"No. But then, it wouldn't, would it?" Regulus stated, his hands clasped more tightly together than could be considered natural, where they rested on his desk.

Severus was pacing the office, unable to sit still as his mind continued reeling.

"You sensed the circumstances of his demise, it stands to reason you will sense his rise, also."

"Well, we don't know how the Mark works with defectors. It could be redundant."

"Unlikely. Though you're right, in that you're the only one of his adversaries who lives, Marked."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll make it a priority to eliminate that little oversight as soon as scheduling allows," Regulus stated, lightly, lifting his glass of firewhiskey to his lips and taking a long drink.

Severus eyed the glass disapprovingly, though said nothing.

"You're sure that Harry is seeing into his head?" Regulus pressed, as if he didn't want to believe it.

Well, obviously he didn't. _Neither_ wanted to believe it. That the Dark Lord even had a _head_ to be looking into right now.

"Positive," Severus affirmed.

"Maybe it's just nightmares from things he's been reading, things he's connected with what happened the night the Dark Lord fell," Regulus suggested; "Malachi told me they've been looking up on all of this. The Dark Lord and the war. They're curious boys; imaginations run wild."

"I know what I saw, Regulus."

Severus drew in a breath, eyes closing for a second, before he turned towards him with further elaboration; "Regulus, I have never seen anything like it. The visions, they were so accurate, right down to the details of the masks – so much so, that I could identify each of them – Lucius. Bellatrix. Pettigrew. I could have been there myself. And the _emotions_ ; those were not Potter's. The satisfaction, the anticipation –"

Regulus bit down on his lip, glancing away.

Severus nodded, slowly; "He's making a move. Directing things from afar."

"What does Dumbledore have to say about it?"

"Only that the Occlumency lessons must continue, as a matter of urgency."

Regulus looked startled; "He wants you to keep teaching Harry? You have to stay away from him."

"Impossible. This connection needs to be broken."

"Severus, if Harry is able to see into the Dark Lord's head, surely you must realise that the very same thing could work in reverse."

"Oh. I had not considered."

" _You hadn't_?"

"Of course, I realise that, Regulus!" Severus snapped, impatiently; "But if I were to withdraw from the boy, now that the connection has been revealed to me, and the Dark Lord _has_ been observing us then it only suggests to him that I have something to hide."

"Which you do."

"I can get around that easily enough. The Dark Lord isn't going to be any better pleased by Potter's ability to see into his mind than the boy is; you think he wants his deepest dealings and conversations out there for observation by Dumbledore's Golden Boy? These occlumency lessons will benefit him also, should Potter make enough progress that he is able to cut the link off between them."

"Why doesn't the Dark Lord just do that himself, if breaking it off is possible?"

"The Dark Lord is unstable at the best of times, I highly doubt his abilities as a Legillimens are any reflection of his abilities as an Occlumens. The Dark Arts have done their work on him. Though, obviously, I would omit that thought from my arguments when I am addressing the Dark Lord, himself, on this matter."

Regulus seemed to think on that for a moment, then nodded, giving him a wry smile; "That's why you're the spy, Severus." He reached over, lifting his glass and finishing off the rest of the liquid within it.

"Stay sharp, Regulus," Severus found himself unable to hold back from saying; "Drowning yourself in firewhiskey and loose women are not going to stop these events from happening."

Regulus rolled his eyes, pouring another glass; "Lighten up, old man." He indicated the other glass, in offering, but Severus only stared in response.

Regulus capped the bottle; "What does Lily say about it?"

"As yet, she is unaware of it. I had hoped to speak with her directly but she is not in a the Lab, as the schedule says she should be."

"Oh. Yes, she was called into St Mungo's just before lunch," Regulus stated, leaning back in his chair and lifting his glass to his lips; "Something to do with Potter. Senior."

"Ah. I see," Severus glanced away.

"You approve?"

"It's none of my business."

"Well," Regulus looked sceptical; "It's sort of your business. What if it works?"

"Then it works. You know what Clay's trying to do?"

"It passed my desk. It's risky. Revolutionary if he succeeds. Did he consult you?"

Severus shook his head, glad of the fact, because a conflict of interest in this case was blatant, even if he did force a show of indifference.

Severus would not touch it.

"No. This is entirely his own project."

Regulus nodded, slowly, before he said, his voice softening somewhat; "I doubt you'd have anything to worry about, either way."

Severus met his eyes.

Regulus held his look for a second, before flashing him a smile, that cheeky, mischievous one that was so rare these days and Severus gave a snort, rolling his eyes.

"I had better get down to the Lab," Severus got to his feet; "My contributions since returning have been severely lacking, as of late."

"Well, you know, you're only trying to stop the end of the world. I'll let you off."

"Will you send Lily my way, if you happen to see her?"

Regulus confirmed the affirmative, as Severus headed from the room, mind filled with the thoughts and images of the Dark Lord, his Death Eaters, and, to his chagrin, James-Bloody-Potter.

* * *

Malachi peered at the old Prophet front page.

Another that he had found, left for him, within his schoolbag, those same words _– 'Blood Traitor'_ – enchanted across the page, corner to corner.

**_Thirty-Six Dead in Anchor Ridge Massacre._ **

With a careful glance over his shoulder, Malachi quickly skimmed the article, looking for any mention of his dad but there were no names, not even of the victims.

He quickly stuffed it back into his schoolbag when the door to the Common Room opened.

Draco and several other, older, kids walked in, ignoring him, and sitting down on the couches in the centre of the room. Malachi relaxed, somewhat, when he noticed no one from his own year amongst the newcomers and leant back against the sill of the window, returning his attention back to the book he was reading.

The Grindelwald one that had also been left for him, concealed within his Potions textbook, almost finished.

"Good read?"

Malachi looked up, sharply, when Draco's voice sounded at his side a few minutes later.

"Oh, uh," Malachi drew closed the books in his lap slightly, pressing them to his chest and drawing his knees up; "Just Potions, y'know. Professor Snape gave us another assignment for tomorrow, so."

Draco only eyed him; "It didn't look like a Potions assignment to me. In fact, it looked like a copy of The Ingenious Ideals of Gellert Grindelwald. The same one you've been reading all week, I noticed."

"You've been watching me?"

"You're my cousin. It's my job to keep an eye on you."

Malachi didn't point out that his big cousin's eye had done little to help him out for the past couple of years but said nothing, just lowered his knees somewhat so the books were no longer so pressed against him, glancing down at them.

"I was just curious."

"You don't have to explain it to me, Mac. My mother says my father swears by it."

"Oh. You've…you've read it?"

"Of course!"

"Oh." Malachi let his legs relax completely, then, the book now completely on display.

"Well. What do you think?"

Malachi met his eyes and then glanced at the book, speaking uncertainly; "I…uh…I dunno. It makes sense, I guess."

Draco only looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for further elaboration.

Malachi released a breath and then shrugged; "Why should we be the ones who have to hide? They're the ones with the problem, right? The muggles."

Draco regarded him for a minute.

And then he smiled.

"Come with me," he took a step backwards, indicating in the direction of the couches; "Greengrass and Zabini, they're big Statute opposers. You should talk to them."

"Oh. I don't –" Malachi shook his head. He wasn't an _opposer._ He just could see the reasons for the arguments, that was all.

"Come on, Mac." Draco took him by the arm, drawing him off the sill and towards the congregated group of Slytherins who Malachi had _never_ been a part of.

"Hey Zabini. You know my little cousin, right?"

Blaise Zabini eyed him, with evident distrust; "Black."

He said his name as if it were something disdainful.

"Greengrass," Draco nodded at the girl to the other boy's right. She gave a small smile, though she regarded him with a guardedness as well _._

All knew he was the traitor's son.

"Malachi's been reading up on the Statute. He's with us on it, too. Right, Mac?"

Malachi looked at him, between them, unsurely, wondering if he should deny it and leave – go find Harry, wherever he was – but then, did he really want to incur the wrath of the third years, as well as the second?

After all, it wasn't like he didn't think the Statue was wrong.

"Yeah," Malachi eventually said, uncertainly. And when the Slytherins eyed him, sceptically, he drew in a breath and nodded, speaking more surely this time; "Yeah. I am."

There was a moment of stillness.

And then Zabini scooted up slightly on the couch and Draco nodded down at the newly freed space.

For the first time since his arrival at Hogwarts, Malachi took a place amongst them.

* * *

The nightmares continued.

Harry's Occlumency lessons with Snape increased, accordingly, with Tuesdays and Wednesdays being added to the schedule and Harry guessed the only reason Thursday's weren't included were because of the extra lessons he was already taking with Remus.

They weren't every night, the nightmares, no, but they were frequent enough that Snape was increasingly concerned by them and Harry had been given instructions to write down anything and everything he saw, the moment he woke when he experienced them.

Harry's occlumency abilities improved, somewhat, with the increased practice and his resistance was getting better. Sometimes, he could even keep Snape out of his head completely, if only for a short while, though it was obvious that he was doing so; offering up a blank slate in lieu of emotions and memories but that was not what Snape wanted him to be able to do.

Snape wanted Harry to be able to trick people into thinking they were seeing into his head, that they had him at their mercy when _he_ was the one truly exercising the control, by offering up only things he wanted his attacks to see.

It was impossible.

Harry was sure no one could _ever_ do that. All those things Snape said he needed to be able to do at once, his brain would sooner explode!

But Snape was happy – well, as happy as Snape could ever be – with the progress he was making, instructing him to clear his mind, blank it out, exactly the way he was doing, every night, last thing before setting down to sleep.

' _An empty head did have some benefits',_ Snape had remarked with a smirk, though it lacked the usual bite Harry was used to, and it was still a little strange, the seeming shift in the way he spoke to him. But then, Harry doubted it was any different to the way he treated Malachi and his Slytherins.

Harry didn't think it worked; clearing his head before sleep.

But the nightmares were so erratic, following no schedule whatsoever, that it was impossible to be sure.

It was two weeks after the initial realisation with Snape what was happening, that anything he was seeing in his dreams at night finally made any sort of connection to what was going on outside in the real world.

Darkness surrounded him, as it always did.

The firelight.

The masked faces.

The hiss of the snake, somewhere nearby, only just audible over the sound of the crackling firewood, the snapping of branches beneath footsteps, and the lower, satisfied rumbling of a laughter.

"You have proven yourself worthy, Pettigrew. Most worthy."

Harry sprung awake with a gasp.

It took him a second, merely a second, to come to himself, to become aware of the erratic thump of his heartbeat, the sweat that dripped from his brow, the throbbing of his scar.

But all that he could think of was the name.

Pettigrew.

Harry scrambled from out beneath the bedclothes, so tangled up due to his tossing and turning through the nightmares that he fell to the floor but he simply crawled to his schoolbag as quickly as he could, not caring how much noise he was making, and reaching in, pulling the map out frantically.

He quickly spoke the incantation to activate it, from right there where he was sprawled on the ground, and Hogwarts was quickly spread before him; names glittering the corridors and hallways and rooms, but none of them the name he was looking for.

Peter Pettigrew.

Peter Pettigrew who, he now realised, served Voldemort.

If what Snape had said to him were true, if he was truly seeing into Voldemort's mind, then Pettigrew was with him. _Right now_. The very same Pettigrew who had been creeping the halls of Hogwarts for _months_ right under his and Malachi's nose.

And they had been treating it as a _joke_.

Calling him 'The Spirit', and laughing at how he was following Snape.

Harry scrambled to his feet, even as his mind tried to rationalise with him, that there could be many 'Pettigrews', that Voldemort had referred to him by last name only, and there was no way to know that they were one and the same person.

But Harry couldn't shake it, the sudden realisation that had just come over him – it had to be the same person – and he flung his robes on over his pyjamas, a hastily utter ' _mischief managed'_ as he stuffed the map into one of his pockets, and sped from the room, taking the stars to the common room two at a time.

Ran all the way, once his feet hit the floor, until he was at the door to his Uncle Remus' chambers, knocking frantically.

Silence greeted him.

Harry knocked again, louder.

Nothing.

"Uncle Remus!"

Harry's knocking continued, pounding it with his palm and leaning in close.

He had to speak to Remus _now._ Before Pettigrew came back.

Harry took a step back, his eyes going to the little open window to his left when he did and the moon was framed within it; illuminating and _full_ and the realisation came over Harry like a bucket of ice water.

Remus couldn't help him tonight.

Harry released a breath, his heart pounding and his nerves frayed, as he took a few steps backwards, turning and walking down the corridor, more slowly this time, wondering if he should go to Dumbledore, then. But then, with the initial shock wearing off, Harry was starting to wonder if this was silly, if he was exaggerating the urgency of it; he didn't now for sure that this was the same Pettigrew, after all.

Did he really need to go and wake up Professor Dumbledore in the middle of the night for it?

A flutter of black robes up ahead caught Harry's attention.

Snape.

The panic was back full force and Harry's steps picked up, quickly becoming a run; "Professor!"

Snape's steps halted, turning in his direction, and even from this distance Harry could see him roll his eyes.

"Out past curfew, again, Mr Potter. It is almost as if you are begging for –"

"Peter Pettigrew is in the Castle."

Snape froze.

For a moment, they only stared at one another; Snape's expression completely blank, while Harry attempted to steady his breathing.

"Say that again, Mr Potter?"

"Peter Pettigrew. He's been in the Castle for months."

"Where did you learn of this?"

Harry quickly reached into the pockets of his robes, thrusting the inactive map into Snape's hands; "On this. All the time, I've seen him. Me and Malachi, we –"

Snape held up a hand, silencing him, a careful glance around them.

And then he indicated that Harry follow, turning and sweeping down the corridor in the direction of the dungeons.

They walked in silence, Harry behind him, and he frantically tried to figure it all out in his mind, what it was he had seen in his nightmares – as Snape would surely question that – and all he had seen of Pettigrew on the map ever since he had noticed the strange name upon the parchment some months before.

Minutes later, they were stepping into Snape's office – a place entirely familiar to Harry now – and as Harry closed the door, he noticed Snape muttering something under his breath as he tapped his wand against the inactive map, impatiently.

Harry quickly took a step towards him; "Oh, you have to…"

He broke off, as the blank parchment in Snape's hands suddenly came to life in response to Snape's mutterings, words forming in a way Harry had never seen it do before, and he stepped closer until he was standing next to Snape, just as the sentences formed.

' _Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keeps his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.'_

Snape's eyebrows rose.

Harry's eyes widened.

' _Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.'_

Harry almost snatched the map back from Snape's hands, quickly reaching to do so, but Snape moved it just slightly out of reach, eyes narrowing as the writing went on.

' _Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor.'_

Snape's lips twitched, a humourless smirk, as he tilted his head, seemingly awaiting more, and Harry closed his eyes against it, praying that there wouldn't _be_ anymore, to no avail.

' _Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.'_

A heavy silence fell over them.

Harry wished the ground would swallow him up.

And he suddenly wondered why on Earth he had even come to _Snape_ about this all in the first place.

The Potions Professor was the first to speak.

"Well. It seems your mysterious parchment doesn't like me very much, Mr Potter."

"Professor," Harry shook his head, utterly mortified; "I swear, I did _not_ make it say that!"

"No, indeed," Snape conceded, to Harry's surprise – and _relief_! – before he went on; "I presume this is something of your father's?"

Harry frowned, confused at the assumption; "What? No – I…What makes you think it was my dad's?"

"That is irrelevant," came Snape's smooth response; "What is it?"

Harry glanced back at the map, reaching for it hesitantly and Snape didn't seem all that keen to give it up, releasing only one hand and keeping hold of it with the other, as Harry took hold of the other side and lifted his own wand, speaking the incantation.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Snape's eyes lifted towards the ceiling, a slight shake of his head.

And then he froze, as the map revealed itself to them both.

"Is that…"

Harry nodded, glancing up at Snape; "Hogwarts."

Snape's lips twitched, and he shook his head, not looking impressed in the slightest; "Of course."

Snape merely peered at the names, as they moved across the parchment, saying nothing for a moment.

"This is the most blatant disregard for privacy I have ever seen."

"It shows everything. _Everyone_. Even ghosts. Peter Pettigrew's name's been coming up on it for months."

"Months, you say?"

Snape turned to him, his previous displeasure only seeming to increase at the information.

"Mr Potter. I have long wondered at the minds of youth. But, do tell me, why – why – when being confronted by the name of a known Death Eater upon this abominable piece of parchment, did you not think to report it – to your Defence Professor, if no one else?"

"I didn't know he was a Death Eater!" Harry exclaimed, in his own defence; "We thought he was a spirit or something. Or maybe just a mistake."

"Has this creation ever proven itself to be inaccurate before?"

"No. No, I don't think so. It just…knows everything."

Snape nodded, slowly, eyes dark as they turned back to the parchment; "It seems there is no trace of him within the grounds at the present moment."

"No. He's with Vold – him."

"What?" Snape looked at him, sharply.

"I saw them. In my nightmares. Just now. He spoke to him - Pettigrew - that's how I know who he is, or…what he is. Vold – he said his name."

Snape's hands curled the map creasing beneath the grip of his fingers and he looked at Harry strangely, almost distrusting, as if he were weighing what he was going to say next.

"The Dark Lord. And were there any regular patterns you noticed while observing Peter Pettigrew?"

Harry nodded, remembering how he had followed his movements with interest, during his times of boredom; "Kind of. He followed me a bit. And Malachi. Mostly you."

Snape regarded him, coolly.

"Indeed?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, before adding; "He was in the dungeons more than anywhere else."

"When was your last sighting of him?" came Snape's crisp response, as he folded the map.

"Last night."

"Return to your Common Room, Mr Potter."

"What?"

"Do as I say." Snape tucked the map into his robes; "Return, now. Speak to no one of this. And it goes without saying I shall be confiscating this particular item."

"But…it won't let you read it."

"I'm quite certain I can find my way around that."

Harry only stared at him, confused at the closed off way Snape was suddenly regarding him. Not even a hint of anger, or annoyance, or concern.

Asking nothing of what he had seen in his nightmares.

Nothing more about what Pettigrew had been doing.

Nothing.

It was as if Snape had suddenly gone _blank_.

"Go."

Harry left without another word.

* * *

Insistent knocking that would not be ignored forced Remus to rise from where he had collapsed into bed a few hours earlier.

He moved, weakly, towards the door to his chambers, expecting Poppy to be on the other side – checking on him, unnecessarily, again – when he finally reached it and pulled it open.

Severus stood there, looking impatient.

"Severus."

Remus did all he could to straighten up, to not appear as weak and sickly as he felt.

"Lupin. A word?"

Remus forced a nod, stepping aside so that Severus could go ahead and make himself comfortable, while he followed slowly and lowered himself into the nearest chair to the threshold.

"What can I do for you, Severus?"

Severus held up a piece of parchment, tossing it onto the coffee table between them; "Recognise this?"

The Marauder's Map.

Remus stared at it, not reaching for it, as it required far too much effort than he was willing – or able – to make.

He turned his eyes back to Severus; "Where did you get that."

"From Potter. Who else? It seems he has been putting it to good use."

"How so? Has he been sneaking into Hogsmeade again?"

"I am not being sarcastic, Lupin. Potter came to me last night; he identified a name quite familiar to us both upon it. Peter Pettigrew."

Remus straightened, despite himself, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through him at the motion; "Peter?"

"Yes. It seems he has been trawling the grounds of the Castle for months."

Severus activated the map, peering at it, as if looking for the name.

"It seems an unnecessary question; but would Pettigrew recognise this item, if he were to see Potter using it?"

"Yes."

"Then we can presume that he doesn't care that Potter knows of his presence. And that the Dark Lord is anticipating a response at some point, according to whom he was to reveal the information to."

"How does Harry know about Peter, though? We've never told him, what he did to them."

"An oversight that has proven less than sensible," Severus remarked, and Remus just glared because anything further than that required an energy that he just didn't have within him at that moment; "It seems that Potter learned of it through his nightmares; the Dark Lord referred to Pettigrew by name and, from that, he was able to deduce his allegiance to the Dark Lord by himself. I doubt he is aware of the true extent of his betrayal of the Potters, as I obviously could not reveal it to him."

Remus frowned; "Harry came to _you_ about this?"

"You seem surprised."

Severus looked smug.

Remus drew in a breath, not bothering to dance about the subject; "Can you blame me?"

"Perhaps not."

Remus adjusted himself in the chair, the pain of remaining in one position too long forcing him to weakly do so; "Well, Severus, if Harry has seen fit to confide in you about it all, then I don't see what it has to do with me? Unless you are here to accuse me of being in some way complicit in Peter's activities?"

Remus was only half-joking.

"Not quite, Mr Moony. As you are aware, while Potter has saw fit to regale me of this information, it is not possible for me to do anything about it without implicating myself. The connection between Potter and the Dark Lord's mind prevents it."

"Right. So, you want me to ask Harry about Peter?"

" _Discreetly_. Try not to be too obvious about it. This information could only have come from me."

"More lies. Of course."

Remus couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice if he tried.

"Something to say, Lupin?"

"Nothing you'd want to hear."

"Is that why you go behind my back to Lily, then?"

Remus felt a surge of irritation hit him; "It is none of your business what is said between me and Lily, Severus. We were friends long before you entered the picture."

"It's my business when it concerns _my_ family."

"Family," Remus laughed, humourlessly, shaking his head and looking away in disbelief.

"Care to elaborate on your amusement?"

"Harry," Remus said, simply.

"What about him?"

"You call him family?"

"Obviously."

"He thinks you hate him."

Remus thought he caught a flash of something – of _feelings_ , shockingly enough – but it was gone as quickly as it flared up.

"It is safer for him that way."

"He is a child, Severus. A living, breathing, _thinking_ child who is not going to take this lightly, when the truth of what you and Lily have been keeping from him comes out."

"Surely even _you_ are not so lacking in sense as to wonder why it has to be this way. If any connection were to be made between him and myself – especially now, that this link between him and the Dark Lord has been established – it would not only be Potter and myself in danger, but Lily and Grace as well."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before pursuing this."

"Now who's not minding their own business, Lupin?"

"Harry _is_ my business. Those kids –"

"Leave my daughter out of this."

Severus' eyes flashed, dangerously, as he said it; reminding Remus just who it was he was talking to and he was not foolish enough to think that Severus was in any way _happy_ about the large presence Remus had in Grace's life.

He would happily kick him out of it, if Lily would have it.

Remus drew in a breath, backing down, and glanced away with a frown; "I'll speak to him."

"Good."

Severus got to his feet, deactivating the map and tucking it back into his robes.

"If you'll report to Dumbledore with your findings, that would be most helpful."

"Not yourself, Severus?"

"As much as I should like continue our conversation, I will be at the Foundation for the rest of the day."

Remus only nodded, glad of the fact he wouldn't have to deal with another encounter with Severus that day.

The Potions Master took his leave without a word, heading towards the door.

"Give Lily my love."

Severus halted in his steps, pausing for a moment. Remus saw him shake his head, slightly, and fought back a smirk.

Severus looked at him, over his shoulder, shooting him a dark glare.

"Of course, Lupin."

Remus gave him a tight smile.

Severus slammed the door.

* * *

Lily was distracted.

It seemed as if anything that could go wrong, _would_ go wrong as a matter of rule, these days, and she was tired of the paralysing apprehension that gripped her and stopped her from just making a damn choice and knowing, with conviction, that she was making the right one.

It had been so long since she'd surely made a decision about anything.

Everything that had gone down with Sirius and Voldemort and _Harry_ having seen to that; the consequences of all her choices back then leading to that fateful night.

Lily forced herself to focus – she was supposed to be working, after all – and get her head down to assess the numerous outcomes of the current project her team were working on.

She got to work, gathering up the parchments of potion concoctions that the Potions Masters and Apothecaries had been evaluating and how they could be paired up, forcing herself not to re-read the documents Healer Clay had given to her regarding the trials he wanted her consent to put James forward for, all the while only smiling politely when one of her colleagues attempted to engage in conversation in an attempt to dissuade any further attempts at discourse.

A stirring of activity drew Lily's attention to the front of the Lab.

Severus had just walked in.

He was immediately greeted with animated chatter; Heart and Butterman quickly drawing him over to where they worked and the three of them stood there, chatting amongst themselves, breaking into laughter every now and again, and it took great effort on Lily's part not to stare.

Lily noticed him turn in her direction, their eyes meeting briefly, before she turned her attention back to the parchments before her.

She heard the familiar click of his shoes, the accustomed stride, before she did his voice.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Potter."

"Professor Snape," she straightened up, surprised at his approach and offered, what she hoped, was a polite smile in greeting – rather than the full-on beaming one she held back – and raised an eyebrow; "Can I help you?"

"Mr Littlewood has asked for my input on Project Cassidy. I believe you are looking into the diagnostics?"

"Oh. Yes, I was just assessing the outcomes now."

"I have some recommendations, if you wouldn't mind," Severus said, indicating at the parchments, and Lily made to hand them over before they were interrupted by a teasing voice from a few rows ahead.

"Uh oh."

Butterman's voice.

Severus' eyes went sideward in his direction, though he didn't turn, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Beware, Lily; Severus has been let loose on you," Chesney added.

Heart laughed outright, while a few of the other colleagues chuckled amongst themselves, glancing in their direction.

"Shall I find you a crash helmet, Lily?" Chesney went on.

"Need more than that," Butterman said, shooting her a grin.

"Haven't you all got work to do?" Severus shot them a look, though the sternness in his glance was belittled by the amused twitch of his lips.

There were further chuckles and mutterings, which Severus ignored, gathering up all the parchments on her bench and, with a nod, indicated that she follow. She did, Severus leading them up to one of the larger workbenches at the back of the Lab, far away from any eavesdropping colleagues.

He tossed the parchments down onto the bench, almost carelessly, and reached into his robes, pulling out a miniaturised rack of phials and jars – which Severus returned to their normal size with a wordless flick of his wand – and accioed a cauldron from the stores, setting it up briskly, saying nothing at all as he moved around the bench.

Lily drew up the stool, taking a seat, glancing discreetly in the direction of their co-workers, some of whom cast curious glances their way – though Lily quickly summarised it was interest in Severus, rather than any interest in she and him being together, that had drawn their attention – and she turned back to him, keeping up the pretence, even though she knew there was no way any could possibly hear them from this distance.

"I wasn't aware that the aims of Project Cassidy were something of interest to you, Professor."

Severus met her eyes then, as he shrugged out of his robe and tugged on the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up; "They aren't."

Lily's lips twitched.

"Muffliato," Severus uttered, with a flick of his wand, stepping in beside her, not stopping in his work for even a second, smoothly reaching for the jar of emmerworms in the rack; three on the bench that he began slicing up.

"Your son came to me last night."

"Is something wrong?"

"We know better than to expect any different, don't we? Pettigrew has been stalking the Castle."

"Peter?" Lily turned to him sharply, earning a warning look from Severus, and she glanced back in the direction of the others present, though they paid them no attention now.

"What happened?"

Severus explained to her the events of the previous night, carrying on with his slicing and dicing and tossing of the ingredients into the Cauldron – occasionally making eye contact – making a show as if advising her on the task at hand, should anyone happen to observe them.

When he had finished speaking, taking his leave for a minute to collect further resources from the stores, Lily forced herself to remain calm, as much as she possibly could, though her mind was positively racing at the information that Severus had given her.

That Peter was in the Castle. That he was spying on Severus. On her _son_. That he was watching their every move and reporting it back to the monster who sought to kill him.

When Severus came back to the bench, she met his eyes, speaking quietly, despite the muffling charm; "How can you be sure he didn't follow you here?"

"I use the Floo network directly into the office; it is impossible he would be able to follow in his animagus form, and even more so in his human, as the wards see to it that only I can access the building through that route."

"He's definitely spying on you?"

"Indeed. Harry supplied me with a most useful artefact confirming it."

"What artefact?"

"Sit over there," Severus indicated at the stool on the opposite side of the bench with a nod of his head.

Lily frowned; "What? Why?"

"Because you cannot act to save yourself and it is obvious from your expression that we are not discussing potion strategy."

Lily fought a smile, doing as Severus said and taking a seat opposite him, her back now to the colleagues still in the Lab, for several had now taken leave to follow up on their own trials.

Severus spoke without looking up from his task.

"It is an enchanted map of Hogwarts, revealing the ins and outs and comings and goings of all within it; something manufactured by Lupin and his cohorts at school, I gather. I spotted Pettigrew on it this morning, as Harry informed me I would. I did not learn much more than that, as the Dark Lord's link to the boy's mind would make it dangerous for us both if he were to reveal anything further to me – indeed, he seemed keen to do so – but I have dispatched Lupin to learn what he can from him at his earliest convenience."

"He won't be well, Severus, the full moon was last night."

"So I noticed during our conversation. Nonetheless, he is willing to offer his services and has agreed to speak with Harry before the day is out. This isn't something that can wait."

"You went to Dumbledore, yes?"

"Yes. Immediately. The students are to be gathered for a grand, final week of the year 'sleepover' in the Great Hall this evening – and any other remaining ones of the school year, should Pettigrew fail to be captured – while a select group of Professors attempt to detain him. I won't be one of those few, you can imagine why."

Lily nodded slowly, turning the information over in her mind, and thanking any and all higher beings she could imagine for the fact that both Severus and Remus were in that school with Harry, to protect him from all of this.

She lifted her eyes to Severus, who continued working and speaking with ease, as if this were entirely natural to him; "He doesn't trust you, then? Voldemort."

Severus winced.

It was a habit that had not dwindled, even in all the years since he had turned from the Dark Wizard, but even then, his unease at hearing the name was far more pronounced now that it had been in previous years, no doubt due to the impending revival that seemed to be getting closer, with each passing day.

"The Dark Lord trusts no one. As is, he is probably assessing my value to him, whether or not I have _Dumbledore's_ trust, for when he seeks to return."

"That's what he's doing?"

"Obviously I am not an expert on the inners workings of the Dark Lord's mind but it is my impression that if he truly believed I was unfaithful to him he would not be wasting his time attempting to confirm it. He would simply eliminate me and, with Pettigrew's seemingly easy passage in and out of the Castle for the past few months, that would have been simple enough to arrange and be done with by now."

Lily hesitated in her movements, raising her eyes to Severus' then.

"I know where your mind is going; rest assured that Harry is within sight of a discreetly assigned Professor – all of whom have been briefed of the circumstances – at all times, at this very moment, and, as such, could not be any better protected even if we tried."

Lily nodded, slowly, before indicating at what he was doing and he slid over the bloom berry for her to extract the liquid.

Severus reached for the parchments as she took over the brewing preparations, glancing through them with, seeming, disinterest for a few moments until his head tilted to the side at one of the ones he caught sight of.

He dropped the remaining parchments onto the bench, keeping hold of the one that had caught his interest and Lily glanced at it, quickly realising what it was.

"Oh! That isn't what Littlewood is working on. It's just –"

"I know what it is," Severus said, mildly, interrupting her explanations, and continuing to read through the text.

Lily bit her lip, an entirely unwarranted feeling of nervousness coming over her as he did, for they were passed all of this now, they had been through so much worse. But the topic of James had and always would be an area of discomfort for the two of them.

After a few long minutes, Severus simply nodded, and dropped the parchment back to the desk, on top of the others; "Interesting."

Lily looked up at him, carefully, as she finished off what she was doing and pushed the mortar back in Severus' direction; "You think so?"

"Indeed. Regulus had described it as revolutionary; I'm inclined to agree."

Severus dripped the liquid carefully into the bubbling cauldron as he spoke, two stirs clockwise, five counter clockwise; tossing in another handful of chopped emmerworms.

"Healer Clay seems confident, also. I'm not so sure."

Severus hesitated, meeting her eyes for only a second, before he carried on with his work; "What are you unsure about?"

Lily was hesitant.

There was nothing she couldn't say to Severus. Not anymore; she knew that. But, still, _this_ just seemed to be crossing the boundaries, pushing him a little too far – he had already demonstrated enough of his devotion to her and them as it was – and it wasn't fair, to put this on him.

"You know me. I'm always second guessing everything."

"Lily."

Lily drew in a breath, raising her eyes and he was looking at her directly this time, the sincerity in them that always made her melt ever present and she sighed, nodding, even as she averted her glance.

"What do you think the chances are? The odds?"

"Based on this?" Severus indicated the parchment he had been reading.

"Yes."

"Sixty percent."

"Success rate?" she frowned.

"Of survival."

Lily met his eyes, sharply.

"And, of those sixty percent," he went on, turning his attention back to his work; "Eighty-five percent a full restoration, fifteen percent worse off," Severus stated, stirring the liquid in the cauldron before him; another two clockwise, followed by five in the other direction.

"Terrible, then. The odds."

"It depends on how much you value the potential success against the risk, I suppose."

"Well, what do you think?"

"As a researcher, I would take it to trials." Severus paused for a moment, before he added; "But then, you're not asking as a researcher."

Lily mulled the statement, as it was true, though she wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was asking as, because while researcher wasn't the case, _loved one_ seemed almost insincere, in light of the fact that she had, years before now, said her goodbyes and moved on.

Severus shook his head; "I cannot advise you on that front, Lily. That's a decision you have to make on your own."

"It's not right. It shouldn't be _me_ , not after all this time."

"You are his wife."

Severus said it with all the neutrality in the world but Lily could still sense it, the bitterness that still lingered, and she met Severus eyes, straightening somewhat and speaking with certainty.

"You and I both know that I haven't _been_ James' wife. Not for a really long time."

Severus met her look, his expression neither softening nor hardening at the statement. Just as infuriating stoic as it ever was, whenever a topic he was uncomfortable with arose.

"It's not right that I should be making this decision anymore," Lily said, fingering the consent form with a frown.

"Well. If that's the way you truly feel, then the solution is simple. Do not answer the question as if you are his wife. Answer it, as if you are simply his proxy."

Lily lifted her head, looking at him curiously.

"Ask yourself what Potter would do, if Clay were to take this consent form to him directly. If he were physically able, knowing the risks, the odds against what he has to gain," Severus indicated the parchment she touched; "Would he sign it?"

Lily stared at Severus, thinking on what he had just said, and wondered if it was really _that_ simple. That she should make the decision, this potential life and death decision of someone she had once loved with her whole heart, based purely on speculation of what James would have done, if he were here to do it himself.

Because, in that case, the answer was simple.

He would.

Without question, James would have his named signed at the bottom of the parchment before the ink of the document had even gone dry.

It was the _risk_ that made everything worth it, that's what James Potter had always said.

Severus had turned back to his brewing now, carefully dripping werewolf blood into the bubbling liquid; "Indeed, you and I knew him entirely differently. But I think both of us would find it hard to believe that James Potter would choose lying in that bed for another second over any chance he has of getting out of it. Even if the odds were a _hundred_ to one."

Lily just looked at him.

After a second, he met her eyes.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, before she finally asked the question she knew she ought to have taken to him in the beginning; "Are you okay with this, Severus?"

He titled his head, regarding her for a moment before his eyes softened; "Lily. Do what you have to do."

Her hand that was resting against the parchment was mere inches from where Severus' rested next to the cauldron. It was hidden completely from view of any onlookers, Lily knew, but even then she would have probably risked it. The understanding in his eyes warranted so much more but this was all they got, under the current circumstances, the tiny movement of her own hand in his direction; not taking his, no, that would be foolish. Just the pressing of the side of her hand to his.

Severus smiled.

But only for a second.

And then he straightened, drawing both hands from the desk, and pulled out another miniaturised rack from his robes that were flung over the side of the bench; another wordless spell and it was at full size, and Severus tapped each empty phial contained within it with his wand, until they all slowly filled with the potion just brewed.

"Give them five hours. That should bypass the issue Littlewood has been having with the overgrowth."

Lily stared at the potion phials, utterly dumbfounded.

" _What_?"

Severus' lips twitched at the astonishment in her voice but he said nothing, simply flicking his wand to clear up the bench, reducing the sizes of the rack and ingredients he had brought into the Lab with him, and unrolling his sleeves to redo the buttons.

"You're kidding," Lily shot him a look, though her lips twitched as she did, "He's been turning every component inside out for _weeks_ trying to sort that out and you just breeze in here and fix it in less than an hour?"

"Now, Lily. I wouldn't want to _brag_."

Severus was smirking, as he shrugged back into his robes, tucking the miniaturised items into the pockets, before he reached into another, pulling out a rolled-up parchment that he handed over to her.

Lily unrolled it, a quick glance telling her it was the steps he had just taken to brew the potion in the phials.

Severus lifted the muffliato that had been cast over them, before she had the chance to make any smart remark in response; "Should you require any further assistance, feel free to stop by my office. At your own convenience."

Lily bit back a smile, though her back was still to any colleagues who may be looking their way.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," she simply said, re-rolling and tucking away the parchment gifted into her own robes, her tone laced with the irony she felt, and Severus inclined his head, a smile playing on his lips as he responded.

"My pleasure, Mrs Potter."

He walked on by to the front of the room.

Severus spared a minute to speak with Heart and Butterman, once more, before sweeping from the Lab and leaving her feeling much lighter than she had before he had entered it.

Even if he had come bearing further bad news about what was going on within the walls of Hogwarts.


	48. June 1994: Partings

With the exams in full swing, Malachi had hardly seen Harry all week.

But that wasn't so bad, this time, not as much as it would normally be, anyway.

In the past, Malachi would be either hiding himself away in the library, or in his dorm room, when Harry was indisposed, so long as he wasn't out alone, in the open, hoping to avoid incurring the wrath of his Housemates simply for breathing.

Now, though, he had been taken under the wing of a little cluster of third years – the prissy ones, as Malachi and Harry had always called them, for they always seemed to look down their noses at everyone else – consisting of Zabini, Greengrass, Nott and Draco.

They were actually alright.

Most of the time, they chatted about _normal_ things, like Quidditch and school work and the professors and books they were reading. Of course, they sneered at mentions of other Houses, especially the Gryffindors, and the terms mudblood and half-blood were tossed around as a perfectly acceptable term of phrase but Malachi could easily turn a blind eye to it, closing his ears off to the insults because, quite frankly, it was easier to ignore _that_ than it was to ignore the various stinging and tripping hexes that the kids in his own year found oh-so-amusing to throw his way when he was going it alone.

It seemed as if, by being accepted into this group of 'Nobles', Malachi had become shrouded in a protective bubble which allowed him to actually leave his bed in the morning without fear for what was going to happen to him next.

It was liberating.

And he was so very _grateful_ that, for the first time since stepping foot off the Hogwarts Express, he could actually walk down the corridors of the dungeons without falling flat on his face, or open his schoolbag without worrying it had been hexed to squirt some disgusting slime in his face, or not have to fear that his homework was going to spontaneously burst into flames the second he had put the final full stop at the end of his assignments.

Malachi finally felt like he actually _belonged_ at Hogwarts, for the first time in forever.

Even if the people in his new circle of 'protectors' really didn't seem all that sure about him.

"Do you really believe the Statute ought to be abolished?"

Malachi glanced up from the book he was reading, leaning back against the tree out on the grounds, at the person who had spoken.

Daphne Greengrass.

Zabini, Nott and Draco were all off taking their Divination examination.

Malachi cleared his throat, closing the book a little; "Uh. Yeah."

"That's very convincing."

Malachi quickly made to make himself sound _more_ convincing, lest he lose favour and be kicked back out to the wolves; "No. I do. Why should we be the ones who have to hide?" Then remembering his dad's letter sent into the Prophet, quickly improvised; "No other time in history has it been the stronger societies that's had to bow down to those who were weaker."

Greengrass pursed her lips together, and then she smiled, snickering a little; "You obviously read that somewhere."

"Does it matter?" Malachi said, feeling himself redden; "We all read. The point is to make us think, right?"

"And, so, from your reading you think the Grindelwald values are the right way for us to go?" Greengrass looked entirely sceptical but amused at the same time, speaking to him in the sort of tone you would to a silly child; "To rise up? Make the world a place for wizards to rule?"

"I guess so."

"I doubt your father would be happy about his son's way of thinking."

Malachi shrugged, remembering what his dad had told him about the Statute himself, when he had confronted him about being a Death Eater; "My dad's not an idiot. Obviously, he thinks it would be better if we didn't have to hide from the muggles."

"Obviously. Yes." Greengrass looked at him, in a considering manner for a moment, before she tossed her own book aside and pushed herself onto her knees on the grass, facing him more fully; "He was best friends with my father, you know. Your father."

"He was?"

Malachi couldn't help but be intrigued. It was the first time anyone had mentioned his father to him at Hogwarts, ever, without any sort of distain or dripping sarcasm, scorning him for daring to be his son.

"Yes. When they were at Hogwarts together. They ran the Club, the one that preached the bigger, better world we could have, without the constraints of the Statute," Greengrass stated, telling him things that ought not be surprising to Malachi, considering all that he now knew about his dad, but he still _was._

Greengrass' eyes narrowed, as she went on, though not with malice. Just saying it as it was; "There's a reason people call him a traitor. He really was one of us, once upon a time. Not a follower, no. One of the top guns. He riled people up; got them on board. He believed it all, completely."

Malachi swallowed, remembering the letter. The words. The arguments written with such conviction.

"I know."

"He taught you to believe it, too?"

"No."

Greengrass gave a humourless smile; "No. Of course not. It would do no good, after all, to the persona he tries to present to the world _now_ if it were revealed that his only son believed exactly the same things that he did. The things he now tries to wash his hands of."

"His persona?"

She raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with derision; "Oh, look at me and how sorry I am for my dreadful past."

Malachi bristled; "That's not how he is."

"It's pretty pathetic, actually. Throwing his life and everything he believes in away just to try and make everyone else feel better about themselves."

"That's not what he's doing," Malachi shook his head; "He believes in everything he does now. The Foundation. Helping people. He's a good man."

"Nothing honourable about a man who turns his back on his own principles," Greengrass shrugged; "But then, he is a Black, which I suppose accounts for that. Honour and loyalty aren't exactly their strong suits."

Malachi wasn't offended by the slight to his name. He didn't care.

"I don't know much about them."

"Toujours pur."

Malachi frowned; "I don't know what that means."

"You're kidding."

She looked genuinely shocked.

Malachi glanced around the clearing, students beginning to pour out from the Great Hall now, the exams coming to an end; "Um…do you want me to leave?"

She obviously didn't think much of his family, his _name_ , even if she didn't really know him.

"No," she shrugged, as if she couldn't care less; "I don't want you to leave. You're actually quite interesting."

"Oh," Malachi frowned, wondering if he should be offended; "Well…thanks?"

"I just find it strange that you'd even want to be involved with people like us," Greengrass stated, eyeing him with distrust; "Surely your father would tell you not to?"

"He's not here to do that, so."

"Or maybe he wants you to spy on us."

"What?" Malachi was stunned at the suggestion; "Why would he want me to _spy_ on you?"

"Oh, who knows?" Greengrass rolled her eyes, as if the answer were obvious; "It's not unheard of. Getting us to fish about, learn what we can about the other sides kids."

"My dad wouldn't do that."

"My father thinks he would. He thinks there's very little most men wouldn't do in a war, in their desperation to win it."

Malachi felt himself grow irritated, the constant jibing at his dad's character beginning to grate; "Well, I guess that's where our dads are different."

"No, where they're different is that your father started killing people."

Malachi was suitably cowed by the assertion. The grim, blatant actuality.

He swallowed; "Your father wasn't a Death Eater?"

"No," Greengrass said it, almost laughing when she did, as if the very idea was ridiculous, then stuck her chin out, speaking as if reciting a motto; "Let the riff-raff sully their hands in the muck of bloodshed and war, so he says. My parents are pacifists."

"Pacifists?" Malachi repeated, stupidly.

She eyed him, looking amused; "Do you know what that is, Black?"

"Yes, I know what pacifists are."

He just couldn't reconcile the idea of a pacifist and a Statute opposer into one and the same person.

"Well then," she raised an eyebrow, looking at him questioningly, as if she knew what he was thinking.

Well, if she was happy to sit there and throw insults at his father and his family and his name, then she could take it back; "I just find _that_ even harder to believe than me maybe thinking the same as my dad did when he was a kid."

She raised her eyes, skywards, before shaking her head and speaking in a posh, irritating, matter-of-fact way that actually reminded Malachi of Harry's annoying friend, Hermione; "Only complete idiots think that mass murder and full-blown _uprising_ is the way to go when trying to cultivate a revolution. These things take time and patience; you have to do it in a way that people don't have any idea what is actually happening until it's too late to stop it. Use influence, connections, _intelligence_. You can't be a _Gryffindor_ about it."

Malachi's lips twitched, as she went on.

"Not everyone who believes the Statute ought to be abolished wants everyone who _doesn't_ to be dead at their feet."

She smiled at him, then, in amusement, as she added; "Just so you know, for when your father has his inevitable heart attack when he finds out you've been dipping your feet in all of this."

Malachi couldn't help but smile, although the reality of a confrontation like that would be anything but amusing.

Even if he _was_ beginning to wonder at it all, really wonder, what it was that his father had once stood for before Voldemort had come along and torn him apart.

"If you're really interested, I can get you more information," Greengrass said, her tone a little warmer now, not so distrusting, as if he had managed to pass a test; "So long as you're not a snake."

Malachi met her eyes, shaking his head; "I'm not a snake."

"You're with us, then?" Greengrass eyed him; "For real?"

Malachi found himself nodding, not quite so insincere this time. Wanting, needing, to know more.

"Yeah. For real."

* * *

Harry was summoned to his Uncle Remus' chambers immediately following his Divination exam.

Remus looked awful.

Harry had never seen anyone look so _ill_.

"Uncle Remus, let me help you," he went to his side, trying to take Remus' arm but he shrugged him off with a weak wave and a smile.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself, Harry. I'm sure I look far worse than I actually am."

Harry doubted it.

Even Remus' breathing sounded unsteady, as he lowered himself, slowly, onto the couch with a wince and indicated that Harry take the seat next to him.

"Is it always like this?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to him, careful not to jar the cushions too much as he did; "After the full moon?"

Remus placed a hand on Harry's arm, giving him another smile; "Don't trouble yourself with thoughts of that. Oh. I should have asked. Did you want some hot chocolate?"

"No," Harry quickly stopped Remus from getting up; "No, I had a big lunch. I'm fine."

Remus nodded, relaxing and leaning back slightly.

"Is something wrong? The message said that I had to come here right away."

"Oh. Yes. Well, Poppy thought that the company might do me good."

Harry brightened up; "You mean, I can come here and look after you every month after the full moon now? I'll do that."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head; "Nice try. No, just today."

"Well, let _me_ get _you_ something to drink then. If I'm going to be here a while."

"Oh, you don't –"

Harry ignored his protests, heading over to the kitchenette, and began boiling water and setting about making hot chocolates for them both – because, really, he never could say _no_ to hot chocolate! – and by the time he returned to the couch, two mugs of the steaming liquid in his hand, his Uncle Remus was sitting there, having picked up one of the framed moving photographs that Harry recognised from his first visit there.

The one of the four boys, when Remus was a student at Hogwarts.

Harry glanced at it, as he sat down next to him, putting both mugs on the coffee table; "You and Uncle Sirius look really young there."

Remus gave him a small smile and a nod; "A little older than you. Fourteen."

"That's my dad?" Harry pointed at the man with the glasses, already knowing the answer.

Remus nodded.

Harry simply stared, wondering at him, the smiling face that he knew he _looked_ like. Everyone had told him as much, since before he could remember but especially since he'd started wearing glasses; the spitting image of James Potter.

Remus cleared his throat, finger going to the other boy; "This is Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

Harry looked at Remus sharply.

Remus only glanced at Harry out the corner of his eye, keeping his focus on the picture; "Inseparable the four of us were. While we were at school. We called ourselves 'the Marauders'."

"Wait. You…you were _friends_ with Peter Pettigrew?" Harry turned, more fully, to face him, leaning closer to Remus on the couch.

Remus lowered the picture, turning to face him, giving a nod; "Yes. Have you heard of him?"

"He's a Death Eater!" Harry burst out, Remus raising his eyebrows as he did; "He's – he's been hiding in the Castle for months! Spying on me! And Snape!"

Remus looked like he was struggling to make sense of the information Harry was throwing his way but, even then, he didn't look all that _surprised_ by what Harry was saying. But Harry couldn't stop the information from pouring out, even if he tried, the cap that Snape had put on his explanations the night before meaning he was still ready to burst following what he'd realised in his nightmares.

"There's a map – Snape took it away – but Peter Pettigrew was on it. Malachi and me, we thought he was just a ghost, because we never actually _saw_ him. But I told Snape and he said not to tell anyone –" Harry realised he was defying the Potions Master by telling Remus but it was too late now; " – but the map's never been wrong before. He was everywhere. The tower. The grounds. The dungeons! It was like he could walk through walls –"

"Harry," Remus stopped him, placing a hand on his arm, "Breathe. I think I know what it is your talking about. Peter, and your father and Sirius, they were animagi."

"What's that?"

Remus explained, as Harry's heart pounded with the adrenaline that had returned to him full force, now that he was reminded of all he had seen and realised the night before, and his excitement only increased with the conclusion of Remus' explanation.

"So, he's been going through the Castle, watching us as a rat?"

"That would be the most logical explanation, yes," Remus nodded. He glanced down, clasping his hands together, before looking at Harry, carefully; "Is there anything else you remember about him? Any patterns he followed? Any strange goings on within the school that coincided with his movements?"

Harry shook his head; "No. Nothing really. I only realised what he was because of my nightmares." He paused, frowning; "Did you know? That he was a Death Eater?"

"I did."

"But you were friends with him?" Harry said, eyes going to the picture; "He was friends with all of you. Why…why would he join Voldemort?"

"Ah. I cannot answer on Peter's behalf. But, yes, he was our friend," Remus swallowed, shifting with another wince, and Harry was reminded of Remus' condition and wondered if maybe this was all too much excitement for him in his current state, but Remus went on, regardless; "Harry, the circumstances that revealed his true loyalties to us; they involved your parents. And you."

Harry frowned, looking at him curiously; "Me?"

Remus nodded, drawing in a breath; "I'm sure you are aware of the workings of the Fidelius charm by now?"

Harry nodded; "It's the charm that we've got on the house. To keep us hidden."

"Yes. Well, this is not the first time you have all been hidden, as such. Years before, during Vold – during his first attempt to seize control, information revealed that your parents were to be one of his hunted. And, so, the Fidelius was used then, also, to protect you all from him. And his Death Eaters."

Harry considered the information.

He knew little about what had happened back then. Only that his father had been attacked, tortured into madness, until his mind had completely shut down.

Harry frowned, as he remembered the memory Snape had uncovered some weeks before; being torn from his cot in the middle of the night as a baby, his mum screaming and his dad calling her to run, realising, _knowing,_ that the memory had been of that night.

Harry swallowed, the logical reason suddenly coming to him, just _knowing_ exactly how it was that Pettigrew's true loyalties had been discovered.

Harry's hands clenched, as he raised his eyes to Remus; "Did he…did he tell them where we were?"

Remus nodded, slowly; "Yes."

"But…only the Secret Keeper can do that."

"That's right, Harry," Remus' voice was quiet.

Harry was dumbstruck.

His parents had trust Peter Pettigrew _that much._ With their _lives_ and he had been a Death Eater. He had sold them out. Could have gotten them all killed. What had happened to his dad, that was because of Pettigrew.

Harry felt a flare of white fury wash over him, as the true extent of the betrayal became known.

"Harry," Remus placed a hand on his arm, drawing his eyes back to him; "It's more than you ought to have to hear. But it's better for you that you know who we're dealing with here. In case he should try to approach you."

Harry shook his head; "I…I don't understand. Why isn't he in Azkaban?"

"He was. He escaped. No doubt due to his animagus abilities."

"But…if this happened, why did mum want to put us back under the Fidelius _now_? I mean, maybe there's a better way to keep us all safe." Harry was suddenly panicking on behalf of his mum and sister, now that the reality that the Fidelius wasn't foolproof had been presented to him.

"Well, I'm sure your mum has put her faith in someone whom she knows is entirely trustworthy this time."

Harry frowned; "I don't know who our Secret Keeper is."

Remus gave a shrug, when Harry looked at him questioningly, because it was surely his Uncle Remus, then. As who else could it possibly be?

Remus put end to his certainty; "Neither do I, Harry."

"How come? Don't they have to tell you? So, you'd be able to get to the house?"

"I was given the address in a note."

Harry couldn't remember ever being given a note. Couldn't remember ever being told the address by anyone. It was just the way it was, the house was always under the protection of the charm, ever since they had come to live in it. Harry had never even _wondered_ who it was his mother had trusted with the secret that protected them, their _lives_.

"I shall have to go to Dumbledore about what you've told me, Harry," Remus said after a moment; "I'm sure you understand?"

Harry met his eyes; "Oh. Uh…but Snape. He said not to tell anyone."

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean the teachers, Harry. Most likely he didn't want to cause a panic. Besides, we can't have a known Death Eater on the loose in the Castle."

Harry nodded, slowly, his mind still reeling at the information Remus had given him.

"Harry."

Remus' hand was on his arm again.

"It's a lot to take in. I have said in my explanation to Professor McGonagall that you may be indisposed for the rest of the day; you can stay here if you like."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head, but maybe he would just go back to his dorm room for a bit, rather than to the library where Hermione and Ron were revising. Really, he just wanted to be alone.

"That's okay, I…I should go and study. You know, for the exams."

Remus only nodded.

Harry stood, drawing in a breath as he did, and made his way to the door. But he stopped, turning back when he did, and Remus was staring at the picture in his hands, a faraway look in his eyes as he did.

"Thanks, Uncle Remus."

Remus looked up at him, a small furrow on his brow, as if he wondered why he should be thanking him.

Harry smiled, elaborating; "For telling me the truth."

Remus' lips parted and Harry thought he saw something come over him, an almost remorsefulness in his expression. Harry frowned but, before he could identify it, Remus gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Of course, Harry."

Harry hesitated, wondering at the uneasiness that seemed to have come over him, but Remus gave him a dismissive wave.

"I should think I'd better lie down for a bit now, Harry. Perhaps once I've spoken to Dumbledore. I am rather dead on my feet," he said it with a chuckle and Harry nodded, realising he was forcing him to use up energy that his uncle really didn't have at that moment.

"I hope you feel better soon, Uncle Remus."

Remus only gave him a small smile in turn, before Harry turned and left the room.

* * *

Harry's wish to be alone was not granted.

Barely an hour following his conversation with Remus, the announcement had been made that all students were to sleep in the Great Hall that night; a grand celebratory occasion to mark the end of the school year. Nevermind the fact that the school year didn't actually end until _next_ week and most of the students actually had examinations scheduled for the very next day.

These exams were postponed in favour of this occasion.

Neither Harry, nor any of the other students, were so brainless to fall for the charade. Obviously, something was going on, something that required getting the students out of the way for the night.

Though Harry knew he was the only one who really knew what it was.

Peter Pettigrew.

Harry did not want to go.

The last thing he wanted to do was spend the evening socialising and engaging in games and pastimes with all the students at Hogwarts. He wanted to _brood._

As Harry always seemed to be doing these days.

About Grace.

About his dad.

About Sirius.

About Snape.

It seemed as if he had spent the past few months since Christmas dealing with one _big dark secret_ after another, to the point that he was truly becoming nervous whenever he found himself engaged in conversation with anyone; wondering just what the person he was speaking to was going to reveal _next._ All of it starting with that newspaper article hinting that Regulus Black might have been – and was – a Death Eater and ending with this most recent one, that Peter Pettigrew was too.

And one that had actively tried to kill his own family, to boot.

Harry longed for the summer, when it would just be himself and Malachi, sitting in their bedrooms at one of their respective homes and pretending the rest of the world didn't exist.

Harry was one of the last students to arrive in the Great Hall, so late that the arranged festivities were already wrapping up, and he was quickly ushered in by a less-than-impressed Professor McGonagall at his tardiness. Harry's eyes immediately sought ought his best friend amongst the masses of students that congregated in the Hall.

It took a while – an age – for Harry to spot him, eyes going to all the usual places he'd expect to find him; a corner, a concealed area where he would be hardly noticed.

Tonight, though, Malachi was almost entirely out in the open – though Harry didn't spot him, hidden so well in plain sight he was – amongst a group of third year Slytherins.

Malfoy was one of them, which immediately put Harry off approaching, but he shook off the urge to simply go and find Ron and Hermione and made his way across.

"Hey, Malachi," he said, when he was close enough that he only had to slightly raise his voice.

Malachi looked up from where he was sitting, huddled on the floor in deep conversation with Daphne Greengrass, Harry recognised.

Malachi shot him a bright smile, immediately getting to his feet; "Hey." He reached down, grasping his sleeping bag and dragging it along beside him as he approached; "You took your time."

Harry was about to respond when Malachi's steps where interrupted, halted by a grasp of his arm as he tried to pass by Malfoy.

"Mac. You're not leaving us to go and be with Potter, are you?"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah? I haven't seen Harry all week."

"We don't associate with the likes of him."

Harry bit back a retort.

Malachi shot his cousin a look, annoyance evident on his features; "Well. I do. I'll see you later, Draco."

Harry shot Malfoy smug look, as Malachi approached, and the two of them headed further into the Great Hall, looking for a spot to set up camp for the night.

"Since when do you hang about with Malfoy?"

"He's my cousin."

"He's always been your cousin, though. He's never bothered you before."

"He's not bothering me now," Malachi said, with a shrug; "He just doesn't like you. Same as your friends don't like me."

Malachi indicated at a spot far away from anyone else and Harry nodded, tossing his sleeping bag down, and Malachi did the same, the two sitting cross legged upon them and facing one another.

"Ron and Hermione don't mind you," Harry stated, refuting Malachi's statement; "Ron's just a bit…"

"Ron's an arse."

"Hey!"

"What? He talks to me like I'm dirt. We were friends before I came to Hogwarts. He acts like Slytherins are the spawn of lucifer or something."

Harry snorted, a little; "He's a bit overdramatic about it. But he knows you're just you. And Malfoy's not much different to me."

"You don't have to hang out with him though. And you were never friends. It's different."

Harry nodded a little, knowing that was true, before he glanced out over the Hall; "Listen, I wanted to tell you something."

"What?"

"It's about Pettigrew."

Harry told him everything.

All that had been going on in the past couple of weeks, that he hadn't been able to share, time and company preventing it; told him about the occlumency lessons and Pettigrew and the nightmares and how he'd gone to Snape and then Remus, leaving out only one thing.

The memories he'd seen; the ones that told him how his dad and Sirius had treated Snape.

Harry was still ashamed of it, so much so that even just saying the words out loud was impossible to him.

Harry told himself it was that, which stopped him from telling the full story to his best friend – the person he had always told everything to – and not the fact that Snape would be hurt or betrayed or disappointed or furious about it; that Harry would dare reveal what he had seen to anyone, least of all his Godson.

It wasn't that Harry _cared_ about Snape, or his feelings.

Not at all.

Malachi, of course, didn't buy that – even without the whole werewolf-baiting, removal-of-underwear, total jackass behaviour of his dad and their uncle being revealed – quickly picking up on the fact; "You told Professor Snape about your nightmares? And Pettigrew?"

"Yeah. I had to tell someone, right?"

"Why didn't you tell your own Head of House? Or Professor Dumbledore?"

"Because it was the middle of the night, I didn't want to disturb them if it was nothing."

"But you were happy to wake Professor Snape up," Malachi pointed out, a grin tugging at his lips.

"He was already awake! I wouldn't have _gone_ to him. It was just because Uncle Remus wasn't there that I told him, at all. He would have caught me, anyway, and asked."

"Usually you'd just lie when that happens. Anything so you didn't have to spill your guts to 'big-bad-Snape'."

"I dunno, I guess I was just freaked out when I realised what Pettigrew really was. I would have told anyone, really."

His friend was chuckling mercilessly, moving to lie down on top of his sleeping bag, as Harry attempted to convince Malachi – and himself – that, if he had been thinking clearly then _no way_ would he have gone to Snape and told him all of this. Hell, Malachi had pretty much told him that Snape was a Death Eater, if the whole 'Dark Lord' thing was anything to go by.

"Just admit it Harry. You like him," Malachi said; "And I was right."

"I don't _like_ Snape." Harry denied it, vehemently, determined that it was the truth; "Obviously _you'd_ like him. He's your Godfather."

"Come on, even the way you talk about him now is different."

"I just don't think he's a complete tosser now, that's all," Harry conceded, because that was the truth, at least, and one he could live with; "But he's still an arse. He still treats me like crap."

It wasn't true.

Harry realised it when he said it.

Somewhere, somehow, that had all stopped. And what had it been, really? A few – _a lot_ – of detentions. Passing over him in classes. Weird looks Harry could catch, when Snape thought he wasn't paying attention.

Those were the same, actually, Harry realised. He still caught Snape watching him, now and again.

But the others, Harry couldn't even _remember_ the last time he had been given a detention, which was shocking enough in itself as their allocation was almost a weekly occurrence until, suddenly, they weren't. And in classes if he offered up answers, Snape would call upon him now – sometimes, even when he didn't, which wasn't exactly something to celebrate – but if he answered correctly, there was a satisfaction about the professor when he did and Harry couldn't help but be pleased about. Like he was happy and hoping to impress him.

And then there were the Occlumency classes.

The weren't so bad, anymore. It wasn't so much of a chore to drag himself out of bed for them in the mornings.

It was crazy.

Harry actually looked forward to them, sometimes, which was utterly insane, considering the fact that his whole private thoughts and experiences were being laid bare before the Potions Master.

A commotion at the other side of the Hall stopped Harry from having to fend off any more of Malachi's teasing; students rising from their sleeping spots and gathering by the far war, all ignoring Professors Sprout and Burbage's insistence that all return to their sleeping bags and stay away from the windows.

Harry and Malachi quickly sprung to their feet, hurrying to the nearest window, as the Great Hall sprung to life, an excited energy coming over the room as all realised something incredibly exciting must be going on out on the grounds.

Harry knew before he even got the window what it was.

Pettigrew.

He and Malachi peered out at the grounds, ignoring the shoves and stepping on their toes of their fellow students, as others attempted to squeeze in, eager to look.

Out on the grounds, figures could be seen in the darkness in the distance. Wands drawn and lights spring back and forth. Someone – Pettigrew – was scrambling away, firing curses backwards at their pursuers, and Harry recognised McGonagall as one of the Professors out there attempting to apprehend him.

It took a second for Harry to recognise one of the others as Headmaster Dumbledore.

The lights firing back and forth, the seeming pursuit, lasted less than two minutes. Giving way to darkness.

And, then, Harry could spot them making their way towards the Castle; Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Vector and Dumbledore.

Before them, bound and transported through the air by magic, the man who could only possibly be Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

It was not thoughts of Harry Potter's connection to the Dark Lord mind that plagued Severus' thoughts.

Nor was it the unexpected revelation that Pettigrew had been stalking the grounds of Hogwarts; spying on them both and Regulus' son.

It was not, even, the entirely unwelcome and appalling possibility that James Potter could soon be walking back into Lily's life, turning his own upside down in the process.

No.

Severus' mind dwelled on one simple thing.

The Dark Mark had not burned.

The fact held little comfort.

Therein lay the possibility that anything and everything that had been done for all these years had been for naught.

Severus could deny the truth no longer. The Dark Lord had returned – in whatever way was irrelevant, a fragmented soul, a spirit – and he was surrounded by his inner circle, his most trusted. The Marked followers. All of them were there, Severus had received confirmation as such from Potter's visions, the first and each occlumency lesson since where they had been presented to him.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Peter Pettigrew.

Sebastian Nott.

Lucius Malfoy.

Barty Crouch Junior – and where the hell had _he_ come from, Severus had been under the impression he had perished _long_ ago.

And others, of course, some of whom Severus had not yet had the pleasure of serving with under the Dark Lord and, as such, was not familiar enough with their masks to identify them. He could easily guess, of course, based on his own first-hand knowledge and suspicions of who had been sympathetic to his cause, along with all the information that had come out during the initial trials back in nineteen eight one.

In nineteen eighty-eight, following the second demise, there had been no trials. Not a single one.

The Wizarding World had been so shaken, so _spooked_ , by the Dark Lord's sudden and unexpected return, that any known or accused followers were immediately imprisoned without a hearing; no mores names exchanged for clemency, no more pleas of imperialisation, Crouch Senior would hear none of it this time around and his ruthless, steadfast dedication to eradicate everything Dark during this time of fright and frayed nerves easily earned him the public's favour and secured his position as Minister for Magic when Millicent Bagnold vacated the post two years later.

Fighting fire with fire.

Merlin help them all when the war was to resume.

Which led him back to the source of his worry. His inactive Mark.

Why was _he_ not by the Dark Lord's side at this very moment?

Why had he not been called upon?

The time was obviously close.

It would be simple for the Dark Lord to do so, Pettigrew's easy passage in and out of the Castle making it so, even if there were reasons for the Mark not to burn.

Severus attempted to calm Lily with words of assurances that he would be dead by now if the Dark Lord suspected his loyalties. It was the way the Dark Wizard would operate in the past; suspicious disappearances, unexplained deaths.

But then, the Dark Lord had demonstrated himself to be more careful during his second rise, and even more so since that fall; it could simply be the case that Severus was still alive, only because the Dark Lord did not feel his demise was worth the possibility of alerting Dumbledore to his current state of being.

Whatever that state of being, was.

Severus sighed, shaking his head, as he stalked back through the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts, having received Dumbledore's Patronus message that Pettigrew had been apprehended and he may return from the Foundation at his own convenience.

It was no good.

It could go on no longer this way.

If the Dark Lord had returned, Severus _had_ to be by his side. Everything counted upon it. The light, Dumbledore, he, Lily, _Potter_ , they could not fight this war blind.

If the Dark Lord would not call upon him, Severus' only choice of action was clear.

_He_ had to go to _him_.

Of his own accord.

That would surely grant some credence to his story, his pleas, when he reunited with the Dark Lord once more; that he would do so, willingly.

And with the school year due to conclude in mere days, there was no reason for him to hold off any longer.

A scuttling figure in the corridor, having skulked out from the door of the Great Hall some distance away, drew Severus from his thoughts.

"Malachi."

The boy spun round, looking startled; "Professor."

Severus lifted his eyes skywards, continuing to make his way towards him and stopping with a click of his shoes in front of his Godson; "Mr Black. Out past curfew?"

"Oh. We're, uh…we're sleeping in the Great Hall tonight. But I needed to use the bathroom."

"Ah. Then, do explain, if you will, why are you heading in _this_ direction," Severus pointed to where Malachi had been walking, before turning to indicate behind him; "When the bathrooms are in _that_ direction?"

"Oh, I don't like those bathrooms much, Sir. They stink."

"Indeed," Severus eyed him, unimpressed; "Lying to your Godfather, Malachi?"

Malachi pursed his lips together, though his eyes flashed with guilt; "Not exactly fair to play the Godfather card at school, is it?"

Severus lips twitched.

Malachi raised his shoulders, a slight smile of his own on his lips now; "Otherwise I could maybe then just plead with him to let me off this once and not tell my teachers what I've been doing?"

Severus fought back a smile, the twinkle in the boy's eyes so uncannily like that of his father's.

"And what exactly have you been doing, Mr Black?"

"I wanted to go to the library."

"It is past midnight. Surely whatever academics that have got you so inspired could wait until morning? Did you not consider there is a reason why the Professors insisted upon this charade," Severus waved in the direction of the Great Hall, where all the students were – he knew, pretending to be – asleep.

"It's not academic," Malachi said, averting his eyes; "I just wanted to look something up. A phrase. But I didn't want people to wonder why. And with the exams going on, the library's going to be packed all day tomorrow."

"A phrase? Perhaps I could help you with that."

Malachi met his eyes, uncertainly.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

Malachi drew in a breath, before looking at Severus closely when he finally said; "Toujours pur."

Severus' eyes narrowed, slightly, in recognition; "Hm."

"Do you know what it means?"

"Indeed. Might I ask where you heard the term?"

"From a girl. A friend."

"A friend," Severus repeated, dubiously; "Mr Black, have you been having further troubles with your Housemates?"

"Not everyone hates me, you know."

"That is not what I meant to imply."

"Is it bad then? Toujours pur?"

"Merely a saying."

"What does it mean?"

Severus looked at him, considering for a moment, before he nodded, figuring he may as well put the boy out of his misery – lest he go _looking_ any further; "It means 'Always Pure'."

"Always Pure," Malachi repeated, carefully, before shrugging and shaking his head; "What does that have to do with my dad?"

"What makes you think it has anything to do with your father?"

Malachi simply looked at him, revealing nothing.

Severus drew in a breath, crossing his arms across his chest and lowering his chin; "Malachi. If you want to know what it is that those words mean to your father, my suggestion is simple; ask him."

Malachi swallowed, looking uncertain; "Will…will he be upset?"

"Not as upset as he would be if you were to engage in another hairbrained escapade to try and find out. Such as the one at Easter, perhaps?"

Malachi gave him a small smile, lowering his eyes.

"Now." Severus said, voice become stern once more, drawing Malachi's eyes back to him, and he nodded in the direction of the Hall; "Return to your sleeping spot, if you will."

Malachi nodded, turning and heading back towards the Great Hall, albeit it with less enthusiasm than when he had been creeping out of it.

"Oh, and Malachi?"

The boy turned back to him.

"That's ten points. And a detention."

Malachi rolled his eyes, releasing a puff of air along with a wry smile; "Of course, Sir."

Severus gave him a small smile, waiting until he was sure Malachi was back behind the doors of the room, before he swept on by back down to the dungeons.

Preparing to wrap up for the summer.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew was dead.

No.

_Worse_ than dead, if what Harry had heard about the dementor's kiss was true; his soul sucked from his body, snuffing out his very essence and leaving nothing behind but an empty shell of a man, with no self or hope of even an afterlife.

Harry felt _bad._

It was surely too extreme a punishment. The Minister for Magic, Bartemius Crouch, had ordered it almost instantly upon learning of Pettigrew's capture and did not entertain returning Pettigrew to Azkaban for even a night; certainly, he would give no consideration to a further trial, taking account of his most recent crimes since his escape. Harry had overheard Professor McGonagall saying to Snape that she believed the Minister for Magic expected that the sentence would be carried out, then and there, at Hogwarts by one of the many dementors still stationed at this school – this is what they were there for, after all, to guard against the escaped inmates, even if Pettigrew hadn't been one of those from last years breakout- and had Dumbledore not had him escorted by Ministry personnel from the grounds, he probably would have been.

Harry couldn't concentrate.

_Persistent vegetative state._

That is what Malachi had said to Harry, the clinical description of Pettigrew's current state of being. His sentence.

Harry was cold, as he realised that Pettigrew's sentence was akin to what his Uncle Sirius had once told him about his father; the he wasn't there anymore. His soul was gone.

The Minister for Magic had handed down a sentence, which now left Peter Pettigrew in the same, hopeless condition as that of James Potter.

"Potter, you are not even trying."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself to get it together, as Snape always said; get it under control.

But the guilt, the uneasiness. It just wouldn't be shaken.

_Harry_ was the one who had gotten Pettigrew discovered and caught and … kissed.

He opened his eyes, green eyes meeting black and he nodded; he doubted he'd be able to get it any more 'together' than he had managed in that moment.

"Legillimens."

James Potter, his father, stared straight through him from a hospital bed. Harry was shouting at his Uncle Sirius and his mum was holding him. And then Harry was sobbing in her arms, while she whispered and cried alongside him as she held him tighter in the corridors of St Mungo's.

The office was back in view.

Snape regarded Harry, seemingly curiously for a moment, while Harry just drew in a breath, lifting his chin slightly.

Harry barely even remembered that; the one and only time his mum had taken him to see his dad. It wasn't a _painful_ memory, no, though he did remember the unease and fright he had felt in the aftermath, as he had begged his Uncle Remus not to let his mum and Sirius ever take him there again. He remembered knocking down the picture of his father that had always graced the surface of his shelves in his bedroom, the sound of the glass frame smashing, and the relief he felt that he would never have to look at it anymore.

It didn't _hurt._

Harry's mind was still on someone else. The person whom he had had a hand in inflicting the same fate upon.

Did Pettigrew have family? A wife to weep over the loss of him; a child, a son, who would never know their father?

Snape's eyes narrowed; "You are thinking about Pettigrew."

Harry swallowed.

They didn't talk about the memories.

But then, they weren't talking about memories here, just what the current situation had evoked. And it bore down on him, so much so that Harry couldn't help himself.

"Yeah."

"It troubles you. His sentence."

"Yes, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because…because it's _wrong_. A fate worse than death. He's lost his soul. He's gone. Just like…like my dad."

Snape regarded him, guardedly, for a moment.

After a moment he shifted, clearing his throat; "One might argue that by joining the Dark Lord, Pettigrew lost his soul long ago."

"I don't believe that, Sir."

Snape said nothing, just stared back at him, unreadable.

"People can't take away people's souls. And they shouldn't order monsters to do it for them either; not like that. Our souls are what makes us. It's the only thing we ever really have."

A silence fell upon them at Harry's assertion.

After a second, Snape spoke, his voice seeming to lose that edge that was ever-present, that Harry was pretty much immune to, by now; "Your father hasn't lost his soul, Potter. Only his mind." Snape glanced away, eyes narrowing somewhat; "What has happened with Pettigrew; it is not the same."

"I feel bad, though, Sir. I did that."

"What utter nonsense, Boy," Snape rounded on him, instantly; "You cannot seriously hold yourself in any way accountable for what has happened to Pettigrew. That man did not only sell his soul; he sold _you_ out in the process. Your entire family."

_He deserved what he got._

It was unspoken, but Harry could almost _read_ it there, plain as day in Snape's eyes, and there was something else there that Harry had never seen before.

Vulnerability.

Harry frowned.

He wondered if he knew Pettigrew – well, of course he did, Harry realised, as he had gone to school with his father after all – but maybe Snape felt something for the other man, perhaps there had not been as acrimonious a relationship between those two as there had been with Snape and his father and Sirius.

Maybe that was why Snape didn't want to reveal him; why he told Harry to hush up when he had first gone to him about the map and his nightmares.

Or, maybe, what Malachi had hinted at was true and the 'Dark Lord' title that the Potions Professor really did reveal the truth behind Snape; that he had been – or, was, Harry felt himself uneasy at the thought however much he doubted it – a Death Eater and he had served alongside Pettigrew – and Regulus Black – in the ranks of evil, some years before.

But then, Snape was not looking at him as if he were mourning the loss of Peter Pettigrew.

Not at all.

If anything, the flash of vulnerability had revealed something else; hate.

But it was gone as quickly as it had come, Snape composing himself in the mere seconds it took Harry to spot it, ever in control.

"It has been several weeks now, Mr Potter, since our lessons began. I suppose I must concede there has been an improvement," Snape said, smoothly turning the subject back to the lesson at hand; "Nonetheless, we are far from our final goal. Have you been practising?"

"I…I've had exams, Sir."

"I shall take that as a no," Snape said, sounding neither surprised nor annoyed as he walked to his desk; rather, he sounded disappointed, which actually stung Harry more.

"I will though," Harry said, determinedly; "All summer, if I have to."

"Indeed you will," Snape conceded, not looking up at him as he flicked through the parchments he returned with. He stopped in front of him, lifting his chin to look down at Harry, in a considering manner; "Though without the presence of a legillimens to do so, that shall prove less than effective. We cannot leave you susceptible to manipulation for the entirety of the summer. As such, here is your homework assignment for the holidays."

Snape handed over the bundle of parchments.

Harry took them, eyeing the title; "Meditation."

His voice belied all the scepticism he felt.

"Indeed. Through meditation, one is able to achieve a state of calmness that will allow you to exercise some control over those unruly emotions of yours."

"Do you meditate, Sir?"

Harry couldn't help the little quiver his voice made when he asked it, trying to hold back his amusement at the mental image the very idea brought to mind; Snape sitting, cross legged, in the middle of his office in the dungeons, arms outstretched, and fingers joined to create little 'O' shapes on either side of him, as a 'hmmm' emerged from his lips.

Harry snickered, before he could stop himself, before Snape had even had the chance to answer.

Snape's lips twitched, his own eyes dancing with amusement also, which surprised Harry and only made it harder for him to hold back outright laughter.

"No," Snape said, seriously, even if he still looked amused; "I have the good fortune of not being at the mercy of every emotion under the sun. You, however, cannot boast the same. As such, this is your assignment. Every night, before bedtime, you will follow these steps, achieve the sense of calmness that meditation allows you to reach and, only then, when you have the ability to master and get your emotions under control, will you allow yourself to sleep."

" _Every night_?"

"Every night."

"I have a life, you know."

"One which we are both determined to preserve," Snape countered, with a raised eyebrow, before he repeated, articulating each word carefully; "Every night, Mr Potter."

Harry stared down at the parchments, fingering through them, uncertainly.

"And so, concludes the lesson," Snape said, his voice quieter, before he turned and walked away.

Harry watched Snape return to his desk, taking a seat and plucking up a quill, dipping it into the waiting jar and beginning to scrawl, as if Harry had already left.

That was his dismissal then.

He had no classes to go to. The Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave in only a couple of hours. Not that Harry took the train home, not ever; his Uncle Remus would be taking him. All Harry had left to do was to add the few items that remained upon his bed to his case and that would be him done; he had packed everything else away days before.

Harry found he had no inclination to leave.

He glanced down at the parchments, reading the first few lines of what he had been given, while Snape continued ignoring the fact that he was even there.

Harry glanced at Snape, uncertainly, almost shyly, before he drew in a breath and took a step closer to the desk; "Professor?"

Snape looked at him immediately.

"I…I've never done this before."

Snape only stared.

Harry swallowed, lifting the parchments; "Meditation. I…maybe you could…maybe you could go over it with me?"

Snape regarded him for a moment, his expression entirely unreadable.

Harry didn't back down, even though he felt a little flutter of embarrassment, of nervousness beginning to make itself know; that he had actually _asked_ Snape for help. Willingly asked to extend this time, this lesson, for him to do so.

Snape cleared his throat, placing the quill he held down on the desk, and got to his feet.

"Very well."

The Potions Professor stepped out from behind the desk, approaching him, and with a quick flick of a suddenly-drawn wand, the chair beside Harry was transfigured into a large green cushion.

"Sit."

Harry immediately did as he was told. He lowered himself onto it, inwardly marvelling at the comfort, though he didn't allow himself to sink in and enjoy the feeling of bouncing on clouds, no. He was still on guard, sitting up as straight as he could manage as he looked up at Snape, who rolled his eyes.

" _Relax_ , Potter. That is the point."

Harry did, as best he could.

"In these practises, it is most effective to begin with concentration upon a single focus point; a repetitive sound, a flame, it does not matter, so long as you focus your mind upon it."

"Alright."

"Alright," Snape repeated, lifting his eyes upwards somewhat, and Harry was going to say something in retort, but Snape went on; "Close your eyes."

"How am I supposed to focus on something if my eyes are closed?"

"Close your eyes."

Harry sighed.

Then did so.

"In this instance, we shall use your breath as your concentration point. Do not attempt to change your natural breathing pattern, Potter," Snape quickly added, when Harry couldn't help but do so, counting the breaths as he unconsciously made them more pronounced; "Relax and feel them and focus. Think only of them."

It didn't take long for Harry's mind to wander.

To Remus who would maybe start to wonder where he was, if Harry didn't arrive on time.

To Malachi who would probably be waiting to speak to him, to say goodbye, even if they already had planned to see one another a ton during the summer anyway.

To his mum, who would, no doubt, be making his favourite meal for his dinner tonight, his first day home.

Hell, he loved mac and cheese.

And Grace. His little sister did, too, and she'd be waiting, excitedly, to greet him when he stepped through the door.

"Potter."

"Sorry," Harry blurted, eyes still closed, though he wondered how Snape could tell his focus had drifted, and then Harry realised his breathing had changed, no longer the calm, relaxed rhythm as it had been when he had first started.

Hell, Snape was perceptive. Did the man notice _everything_?

Harry wondered if he always did that, he had seen the way he would simply stare at people, especially when they said something he – no doubt – thought was utterly stupid. Did Snape read them, their breaths, their body language, just in the same way that he could look into their minds?

Could anything be hidden from the Potion's Master?

"Potter."

"Sorry," Harry said again, squeezing his eyes shut, determined to focus on his breathing.

Must focus on breathing.

Must focus on breathing.

He was _not_ relaxed.

"Open your eyes."

Harry did.

Snape was looking at him. He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching.

"Harder than it seems, Potter?"

Harry's lips twitched, as he attempted to suppress a grin, but then he wondered why he bothered, why he kept holding back – it wasn't as if Snape hadn't _seen_ him for these past few months, the legilliemency had seen to that, every memory and emotion and thought laid bare to the man in front of him – and so Harry just let it go and relaxed, really relaxed, for the first time since he had ever met him.

Harry smiled.

And when he did, the twitch of the lips, the amusement in Snape's expression was snuffed out instantly. And, for a second, Snape just looked at him, looking startled and surprised and, then, Harry would realise later, moved by it.

Snape drew in a breath and then, as Harry had done so mere moments before, relaxed.

Snape gave him a slight nod, more a tilt of the chin, and there was the slightest of smiles on his lips when he did.

"Shall we go on?" Snape said, after a moment.

Harry nodded.

Snape crossed his arms across his chest, closing his own eyes when he said once more; "Close your eyes."

And so, Harry did.

* * *

Malachi glanced round the Great Hall, impatiently.

Harry's last occlumency lesson should have ended over an hour ago, though he guessed Severus really wanted to drill the whole thing home before finally dismissing Harry for the summer.

He jumped when a box was suddenly dumped onto the table next to him.

"Here you go, Black," Greengrass said, plonking down onto the bench next to him and indicating at it with an outstretch hand; "Behold the key to your father's deepest, darkest secrets."

"What are all these?"

Malachi leaned up, eying the various journals that were piled inside of the box; a quick glance told him the name of it, _The Oracle Bulletin._

"Fortnightlies, wouldn't you guess?"

"But, what do these have to do with my dad?"

Greengrass rolled her eyes, reaching into the box and lifting one up, flicking the pages through her fingers in a blurred arch until she abruptly put her other hand on a page, and turned to hold it out to him; "There you go."

Malachi glanced at where she indicated, a modest article in the periodical and, there right at the bottom, the columnist listed; Regulus A. Black.

Malachi frowned, taking it, but his eyes went to the pile of journals Greengrass had handed over to him; "He's got things written in all of these?"

"I don't know about _all_ of them. But he was one of theirs, yes. For a time. Before he backed out, obviously, and started up Aurelius. Had a way with words, so my father says. Have a read for yourself."

"Did you bring anything else?" Malachi asked, reaching for the box.

"There's a couple of things in there from their school years; things about the Club. I wasn't really sure what it was you'd want to know but I figured you'd want to see what your dad was up to, rather than anything I had to say on the whole thing. My father just sent this stuff over. If you want more, I can get it."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm helping you?" Greengrass shot him a smile, giving a shrug as she got to her feet; "Well, I'll take that as a thank you, then. Have a good summer, Black."

She turned, beginning to head away.

"Wait."

Greengrass looked at him, expectantly, pausing in her steps.

"If I did want to know more…how'd I get in touch with you?"

Greengrass raised an eyebrow, giving him a grin; "You want to know where I live?"

"Well…so I can write you?"

"Why don't you give me yours and then I'll get in touch with you."

Malachi felt himself redden. He thought everyone knew about him and how he had to live.

"Oh. I can't. My house, it's…"

"Oh, yeah," Greengrass nodded, once, as if remembering, because of course she knew. Then she raised an eyebrow, tilting her head and widening her eyes; "I could be a spy."

"No, I –"

"Keep your knickers on, Black, I'm kidding," Greengrass snickered, shaking her head, leaning down and scrawling out something quickly onto the magazine that was still open in front of him; "There."

Malachi smiled at her.

"Later, then," Greengrass smiled in turn, before turning and heading away.

"What was that about?"

Malachi turned abruptly in the other direction, when Harry appeared behind him.

"Oh, Greengrass. She was giving me some stuff about my dad."

Harry sat down next to him, casting a curious glance at the box, and Malachi grabbed it, pulling it closer to Harry and nodding at him that he could look.

"The Oracle Bulletin," Harry read the title, as he plucked another from the box, flicking through it, disinterestedly; "These are really old."

"From the war, I guess," Malachi conceded; "My dad wrote things for them. Guess her dad was a fan or something."

"Or something," Harry shot him a look, his suspiciousness evident; "You sure you trust Greengrass?"

"Doesn't matter if I trust her if what she's telling me is true, right? His name's right there," Malachi indicated at the page of the one in front of him.

Harry looked at it, nodding, slowly, before he turned his own to the same page and, sure enough, another article was published in that one too, slightly longer, and signed by the same columnist. His dad.

Harry glanced at the box, at the journals still in there; "Want some help going through them?"

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded; "Sure. I'll take some away."

Malachi smiled, nodding at it; "Help yourself."

Harry took a handful, stuffing them into his bag; "I gotta go. Lesson with Snape overrun and I think Remus will be waiting, now."

"Yeah, I noticed. Was he an arse?"

"Nah."

Malachi grinned, because it was obvious that Harry's opinion of Severus had changed the past few weeks. Hell, Malachi got the impression that Harry actually _enjoyed_ the lessons that he had to go to now. He didn't even complain when he was telling Malachi he still had to go today, the last day of term, just shrugged it off when Malachi declared the injustice of it.

Malachi said none of that – this time – quickly picking up on Harry's need to get away, promptly; "I'll see you next week?"

"Right," Harry shot him a bright smile, slapping him affectionately up the back of the head; "See you then."

"Bye."

* * *

Severus cast aside any nervousness he felt as best he could.

Potter helped, believe it or not.

Their lesson that morning had given way to thoughts of the boy and himself and the family that Severus hoped, one day, they might have and reminded him exactly what it was he was doing all of this for.

Never, in all the time that Severus had know Harry Potter, had he looked at him that way. A brightness and a warmth and a sparkle in his eyes as he simply smiled at him – at _him_ – and it almost reminded Severus of Lily. Almost, but not quite. For, in that moment, he had seen only Harry and Severus couldn't help it, the little jolt of happiness he had felt at seeing it there. For him.

And when the boy had requested that Severus teach him more, extend the lesson, there was no way Severus could refuse him. Despite the fact that he had much to do and much to prepare, in only the few hours he had left there, before he went to the Foundation and bid farewell to Regulus and to Lily.

For it was time, now, the time Severus had both dreaded and anticipated for so long.

Time to return to the Dark Lord's side.

Regulus put up a good front, demonstrating the usual good humour that Severus was used to, and, for that, Severus was grateful. Because Regulus knew well enough that this may just be the last time that they ever saw one another, if things went the way each of them feared that it would.

But Severus couldn't keep up the charade, the laughter, the good-hearted farewell over the firewhiskey Regulus had demanded he drink with him – one for the road – as the reality of it all weighed too heavily. All that he was leaving behind.

Severus swirled the liquid of his glass around, following it with his eyes, not looking up. The previous lightness of his words throughout the conversation giving way to vulnerable earnestness that was far beyond Severus' levels of comfort, but this had to be said.

It had to be asked.

"Regulus," Severus kept his eyes upon his drink; "If…" He hesitated; "While I am gone…" _No. Not while I am gone_ ; "If I do not…" _Come back_.

He really should have rehearsed this.

The unspoken words hung heavily between them.

Severus met Regulus' eyes, guardedly.

He could be however guarded as he liked, Regulus knew exactly what he wanted to say. His friend had his eyes on him, his expression knowing, understanding.

Putting him out of his misery, Regulus nodded, slowly, with utter sincerity in his eyes; "Don't worry about them, Severus. You never have to."

His family.

Should the worst come to pass, should Severus _not_ come back this time; Regulus would do it. He would take care of them; dedicate himself to them and their safety in the same way that his brother had once done, before him.

Severus gave him a small smile; hoping it was enough to convey his gratitude.

And then he stood, knowing Lily would come by soon, and that was something he could not cut short. His time with her.

Severus began to make his way to the door.

He was halted, mere centimetres from it, by Regulus' voice.

"Sev."

When Severus turned to face him, Regulus had approached and was stood in front of him, looking like he wanted to say something; like he had a whole spiel of things to say and Severus braced himself for it when he noticed the openness in Regulus eyes.

Regulus was his closest friend, yes. But they did not do this. No.

Regulus just smiled, holding out a hand, and Severus took it, almost sighing in relief, and he allowed Regulus to pull him closer and throw his other arm around him to slap him on the back. An embrace that he returned for a moment, before he drew back.

The heaviness of the moment was dimmed by Severus' words; "Why Regulus. You would think I was walking to my grave."

Regulus grinned but it seemed forced; "Ah. What would I do without your loving words here, raising me up."

Severus just gave another smile, turning away this time, not prolonging the goodbye as that would tread much to close to sentimentality, the longer they remained so close and so open about the possibility of Severus' impending doom, so he took his leave. Returned to his office and waited for Lily to come to him.

He had sent a message through Heart that he needed to see her, under the guise of further information regarding Project Cassidy – the most uninspiring venture going on in the Foundation at the moment – and it hadn't taken him long to toss together some useful information that would be of assistance to the researchers working on it.

Lily turned up at his office, less than half an hour after he had taken his leave of Regulus.

He had to see her. He wanted the last person, the last face he saw before he finally went back under, to be Lily.

Severus had not yet revealed to her what he planned to do. Though, obviously, she suspected. He had been dropping hints now for weeks; that when the summer came, if the Mark had not burned, he would have to go to him, uncalled for.

Still, Lily was not in agreement with him, demonstrated none of the good-humour that Regulus had done, less than an hour beforehand.

"No."

"Lily."

"Don't go."

Lily looked utterly furious. And afraid.

"You know that I have to go."

Lily shook her head, stepping even closer towards him; "Severus, he will _kill_ you. There must be a reason he hasn't summoned you."

"It is a test. It's always a test. I've told you this before."

"Just wait."

"I can't wait. Every moment I spend apart from them only increases the likelihood that he _will_ decide to eliminate me, and we cannot have him doubting my loyalties now. Not after all we have been through to get here. Everything is in place, we could not be more ready for this."

Lily's eyes glimmered now because she knew it was true. And she knew that his resolve was set.

"Severus –"

"Lily," he shook his head, clasping her hands between his; "Please. Don't do this."

Lily closed her eyes, a tear escaping as she did.

They simply stood there like that, as the reality of it sunk over them both.

Lily swallowed, before drawing in a breath and meeting his eyes, her voice stronger, determined this time when she spoke; "How will I know that you're safe?"

"You won't," Severus admitted, squeezing her hands; "But you cannot worry about things like that. Not now. You know how it is. We've done this before."

Lily shook her head, speaking less assuredly when she said; "It's…it's different now."

"If anything, we're stronger."

"With so much more to lose."

Severus nodded; "Yes. Which is why I have to go. We cannot fight him blind, Lily. He has to believe that I am his. And he has been _watching_ me. He knows that I know of his dealings, of his return and if I do not seek him out, if I do not go to him, knowing this, then my culpability will be obvious."

Severus paused, reaching up to touch her cheek, wishing that he could just make the fear, the uncertainty, the sadness in Lily's eyes leave her; "And the Dark Lord is not someone who forgives. At this point, waiting for the Mark to burn, is akin to awaiting my death sentence."

Lily closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her voice quiet; "When will you leave?"

"Now."

" _Now_?"

"Imminently," Severus confirmed; "I have already made the arrangements."

Lily stared at him for a moment.

"You called me here to say goodbye."

"Yes."

"Severus."

Her voice broke, and she pressed her hand to her face, thumb and forefinger to her eyelids and it seemed as if she were willing herself to stay strong, not to cry, at least for now. She drew in a shaky breath and when her chin lifted and she met his eyes once more, she seemed resolved to accept it, what it had to do, even if the apprehension, the anxiety was still evident in her eyes.

Severus touched his forehead to hers, speaking quietly; "It may be some time before I am able to contact you. Do not panic and do not act rashly, no matter how long my absence stretches."

Lily released a small sound, as if she tried to laugh and make light of what he had said but it fell short; "Oh, you really know how to make a woman feel reassured, Severus."

"Lily. I love you."

Severus rarely said it. He knew she knew it; the depth of what he felt for her. But this situation demanded it. If it were, truly, the last time he would have the chance to do so then she would hear it.

Lily leaned up, pressing her lips to his, and he responded, kissing her deeply, slowly, letting her feel it, as well as hearing the words.

And when he drew back, forehead going back to hers, Lily gave him a small smile, her voice a murmur; "Better."

"All I can promise is that it will all be over soon. Not soon enough, no. But I know that this is it; it's not how I had thought it would be but I am sure of it."

Lily nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between his; "I love you."

Severus smiled, touching his lips to her forehead.

She closed her eyes, while his lips lingered; "Please, just…be safe."

"And you," he said, lips still against her skin, before he drew back and met her eyes; "All of you."

Lily gave him a small smile, but it trembled and didn't really meet her eyes; the sparkle he longed to see entirely absent but, obviously, there was good enough reason. This could be the last time that they ever saw one another.

No.

Severus determined that it would not be so.

He _would_ come back.

Severus stepped in, pressing his lips back to her forehead, a final time, and then he walked on by, heading for the door.

It was his office, but he knew better than to dismiss and send Lily back down to the lab, not when she was like this. She would need time. And, Severus knew, that if he were to wait for her to walk away from him, that the time would never come. Lily wouldn't walk away.

And so he did, casting her a glance over his shoulder when he reached the door.

Lily simply watched him, offering him another smile, as she crossed her arms, holding her arms tight in her hands as she watched him go.

Severus didn't say goodbye.

He simply turned, pulling open the door and leaving the room.

He refused to even entertain it.

This wasn't goodbye.


	49. July/August 1994: Gone

It had been five weeks.

Five _long_ weeks of searching and, still, Severus had found nothing.

There were traces, of course, and even verbal confirmations from locals that he stopped to engage with, saying that there had been a man or a woman who looked just as Severus described – he alternated his search between various followers, but it was Lucius' description which almost always caused a stir – and so, he knew, that he was close.

He was always close.

Just a hairbreadth away, it seemed, sometimes, only for them to slip through his fingers and the trail to come to nothing.

And after five weeks of coming up short, Severus was growing impatient. His longing to be home began to take grip within just a couple of weeks, missing Lily and Grace – Merlin, how he longed to see his daughter's face – and, even, Severus had realised with a jolt, Harry.

_That_ was certainly a bizarre turn of events; that the mundane routine of waking before the crack of dawn to complete his marking, before heading through to the office and taking on the extra occlumency lessons – hardly something that ought to evoke any joy or anticipation – had somehow become a part of his day that he had _looked forward_ to.

Severus never thought he'd see the day. The day he actually enjoyed _teaching._

But he had, and Severus knew better than to put it down to the task or subject at hand, or even down to the satisfaction that he had felt that he was finally _doing_ something useful, at last, to prepare the boy for his inevitable confrontation with the Dark Lord and that his efforts were actually being appreciated and responded to.

No. It was Harry Potter, himself, that had brought it about.

Those couple of hours each day spent in the boy's company. And with each passing day and lesson, as Severus saw more and more of him – in personality and in memory – he couldn't help but be taken in by him. Taken in by this boy who Severus had always sworn he would, and _must,_ keep at distance and no wonder – his thoughts on the matter were entirely right – as the boy turned out to be so engaging that, even under the guise of extra school lessons, Severus couldn't help but connect with him.

A connection which could prove deadly to both, should it become apparent to any hostile observer.

Not that it mattered, at least at this moment, as Severus was far from Harry, and their family, and may never even have the chance to return to them. Not if his current suspicions were proven accurate.

Yes, Severus' attempts to regroup with the Circle had proven less than successful. But he was not a fool. He knew they were aware of his attempts to locate them. There would be a Death Eater tasked with scouting the land, taking note of their surrounding areas, and Severus knew he had gotten close enough to be picked up on the radar, whoever that person may be.

He had not been approached.

However – Severus knew it as certain as he knew the sun rose in the East – he _was_ being observed.

The Dark Lord had been having him followed.

And so, tired and impatient and, downright, _cranky,_ Severus had finally hunkered down in one of the local taverns, renting out an upstairs room for an unspecified number of nights, and ordered a double firewhiskey and sat at a table in the furthest corner of the room.

Spent the rest of the day at the table there, doing nothing but waiting.

From dawn until dusk, he had done the same the second day.

And then the third.

Until, finally, on the fourth day, Severus had heard the tell-tale sound of solid footsteps thudding upon the floorboards, approaching him from behind.

Severus didn't look up. Merely tapped his index finger against the side of his still-full glass, as a cloaked figure stopped up short next to him.

"I was beginning to doubt that I was welcome."

"You are not the only one," came a smooth, familiar voice that Severus had not heard in years.

Severus raised his eyes from the table, meeting those of Lucius Malfoy.

They said nothing, merely looked at one another for a moment. And then, the tension broke and Lucius gave him that enigmatic smile, that was _never_ earnest, but it was not chilling either and it was the warmest welcome Severus could possibly hope for.

He got to his feet.

"Severus." Lucius held out a hand and Severus took it, nodding at him.

"Lucius. You look well. Considering."

"Considering," Lucius conceded, flexing his jaw and looking darkly at the window; "Yes. Five years in Azkaban. Hardly a vacation spot I would recommend, I must say."

"Why has it taken so long for you to contact me?"

"I was under orders not to approach until I was certain of your commitment to him."

"Ah. Then I have passed the test."

"Not quite, old friend."

Lucius raised a finger in the direction of the bar at the barman, before taking a seat at the table Severus had chosen, Severus doing the same and sitting opposite.

"Where are the others?" Severus asked, immediately.

"We shall reconvene with them shortly," Lucius said, taking the offered drink from the barman without gratitude, raising the glass to his lips; "You are the last."

"After five weeks of scuttling through the streets of Romania, I am not surprised."

"This is an interesting choice of lodgings," Lucius remarked, ignoring Severus statement as he glanced around the interior of the drinkery; "Regulus' habits certainly appear to have rubbed off on you."

Severus leaned back, eyes narrowing at the mention, and he reminded himself that he mustn't react to the little jolt inside him, positively screaming out that Lucius had been the one to turn Regulus over to the Dark Lord, sentencing him to certain death, some years before – and this man was his _family_ – and instead addressed the obvious issue at hand; "Should I assume the Dark Lord is unimpressed, then, by my placement at the Foundation?"

"You should," Lucius said, looking at him closely as he took another, slow drink.

"It can only benefit him, surely. To have a follower right under Regulus Black's nose."

"And I suppose Regulus is not suspicious? He served alongside you, Severus. He knows you well – do not deny it – better than anyone, I am inclined to say. If _Regulus_ believes that you are disloyal to the Dark Lord – " Lucius gave a low grumble of a laugh, shaking his head; "I must say, that does not do you any favours."

"Come, Lucius, the man is your family, however much you wish to deny it, you know well enough Regulus' weaknesses. A simple word, a plea, a reminder of all we once were to one another and he was putty in my hands. Regulus is not blessed with the ability to remain immune to the tortured souls of others, as we have all seen, evidence of that dating back to the wet sixteen-year-old who thought he had what it takes to follow."

Lucius regarded him carefully, seeming to turn over words.

Severus lifted his glass to his lips, raising an eyebrow; "If I am able to secure the confidence of the _Great Albus Dumbledore_ , which the Dark Lord was quite willing to believe some years ago, does he truly doubt that I would be able to do so with that of Regulus Black?"

"That old fool was not privy to your true self, Severus, not in the way your dearest friend was. Or, indeed, may still be."

"Surely you do not doubt the Dark Lord's abilities to see through such a scheme as you seem to be implying, Lucius; that I should return to him, a snake in the grass, the most brilliant wizard of our age deceived by myself. That would be a most ungenerous presumption, don't you think?

Lucius gave him that enigmatic smile again; "And you want to be put forward to him for verification, do you?"

"I have nothing to hide."

Lucius glanced down at his drink, clearly pondering the words, the explanations that Severus was sure to have to repeat upon facing the Dark Lord, but his arguments were sound, he knew they were.

He had been rehearsing all this for months, _years,_ even.

Lucius drew in a breath and lifted his glass to his lips, finishing off the liquid that graced it in a single mouthful, before returning it to the table with a thud and getting to his feet; "Very well."

Severus got to his feet, leaving his own full glass, and brushing down his robes as he did.

The two of them headed from the tavern, Severus a mere step behind, as Lucius led the way. The two stepped outside into the harsh sunlight, the suffocating heat, and when they did, Lucius turned to him, looking at him once more, and Severus met his look without hesitation, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Lucius smirked.

"It is good to have you back, old friend."

* * *

"I'm afraid your husband isn't responding in quite the way that we hoped, Mrs Potter."

"It's Lily, Hubert," she said, in response to Healer Clay's statement, for they knew one another well enough not to bother with the pleasantries; "Just tell me what's going to happen."

"Lily…" he hesitated.

Lily kept her eyes on James' face, eyes squinting and her lips pursing together when his silence made it more than clear. She drew in a breath, willing her voice not to tremble when she spoke; "How long does he have?"

"A few days."

There was compassion in the healer's tone, her colleague, a gentleness and a kindness that they knew they really oughtn't let show to the families when they delivered news such as this – they expected the healers to be stoic, composed, entirely sure of their diagnoses with no sign of doubts or fallibility – and Clay reached out, placing a hand on her arm.

"He was the ideal candidate for the trials. I was almost entirely certain of its success. I'm very sorry, Lily."

Lily drew in a breath, her heart heavy and her stomach tight when she met his eyes, and she forced a nod, unsure if he was apologising for his own benefit or for hers, which one of them he was granting pardon to, for even trying this; "Okay."

Her voice was quiet.

She stepped away, turning from the room, unable to look any longer. She couldn't look at James, knowing this, not today. She had to be at home. It was Harry's birthday, his fourteenth, and they had people coming and she had to smile and entertain and host the small party she insisted be thrown for him, all the while holding back the news that his father was _dying,_ and Harry really needed to know.

Lily apparated home, stepping through the gate, immediately greeted by the sounds of Grace's excited squeals.

"Higher, Uncle Remus!" Grace laughed with delight, as Remus threw her up in the air once more, catching her and giving her a spin.

"Mum, Mr Black is in the kitchen," Harry said, suddenly at her side, before he took off in a jog across the garden to where Malachi, Ron and Hermione were huddled on the grass beneath the shrubbery.

Lily headed into the house in a daze, thoughts suddenly warring between concern for James and concern for Severus, as she considered the reasons why Regulus would actually wait behind to speak with her. All involved Severus and his plight to return to Voldemort and it had been so long, too long, since any word of his whereabouts had reached them.

"Lily," Regulus stood from where he was sitting at the table, seemingly doing nothing but staring at the fruit bowl in the middle of it until she arrived.

"Regulus," Lily frowned, completely unable to keep the concern from her voice, so rattled by the news about James that she couldn't even muster up the usual controlled front she often did when it came to Severus; "What's wrong? Have you heard something?"

It had been five weeks of _nothing_ and she struggled not to fear the worst.

Regulus nodded; "There's been sightings of them in Romania. Odd but that's what the rumours are saying. But that's all I've heard. Nothing about Severus, directly. Have you heard from him?"

Lily bit her lip, feeling her eyes start to brim; "No."

Her voice trembled, and Regulus looked startled. They had, after all, discussed far more dire circumstances than this and both had agreed, albeit without much conviction, only earlier that week, that no news was good news, for the time being.

If the school year commenced and he still had not returned, then would be the time to worry.

"I…I'm sure he's fine, Lily," Regulus said, shifting awkwardly; "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, you're not," Lily quickly composed herself, shaking her head and looking away; "I…It's not Severus."

"Oh. Okay," Regulus still looked uncomfortable, clearing his throat; "Is there something I can do?"

Lily started to shake her head, when the door to the kitchen sprung open and Remus walked into the room. He paused a few steps in, looking between them with undisguised curiosity. And then, when he quickly picked up on Lily's upset, concernedly spoke; "Is everything alright?"

Lily brushed her hand back from her face, glancing in Regulus' direction for a moment, before drawing in a breath and Regulus quickly took the chance to escape.

"I'd better go," Regulus said, handing her over to Remus' disposal; "I'll be back over for Malachi in a few hours." Then he glanced between Remus and Lily, thinkingly for a second; "Or I could take them with me? The kids?"

" _All those kids_ ," Lily said, sceptically and shooting him a grin through her distress, and Regulus grinned in turn and gave a shrug.

"Can't say no to a challenge. Yeah, I'll take them, alright? Think there's a thing going on over on the coast that the boys would like. Give you a couple of hours?"

Lily frowned; "Regulus, are you sure?"

"Yes," he nodded, turning away and seeming to take that as her answer, as he pulled open the door; "See you then. Grace! Come here, Monkey." The door clicked shut behind him.

"What's going on?" Remus asked with a frown, stepping towards her and looking at her, carefully.

Lily met his eyes, drawing in a breath.

"Is it Severus?"

She shook her head, "No. No he's fine."

_God, please let him be fine._

"What, then?" Remus touched her arm, leaning his head down to look at her, anxiously; "Lily?"

She met his eyes, shaking her head, her voice quiet; "It's James, Remus."

It was all she needed to say.

Remus just looked at her for a moment, before his gaze seemed to go right through her, not seeing her any longer, as the simple statement began to sink in. He drew in a breath, meeting her eyes, and she saw the sadness in them, and while there wasn't any question there – Remus knew what it was she had to say – she gave the slightest of nods, confirming it, feeling the lump in her throat that would prevent any elaboration, even if Remus had asked her for it.

Remus didn't.

He just stepped forward, hands on her arms and allowed her to lean on him if she wanted to, and she did, pressing her face into his chest and grateful for the arms that held her as their tears started to fall.

* * *

This was odd, being sent off with Mr Black for the day, his birthday, but the man seemed determined to make sure they all enjoyed themselves, offering a selection of various activities to choose from; the seaside, a funfair, an ice rink, 'just name it birthday-boy', and Harry had chosen the fair and they quickly found themselves whisked off to the pier.

Grace laughed as she ran on up ahead, Malachi seeming to be left responsible for entertaining her as he hurried up along behind her.

Ron and Hermione were straggling along behind, bickering about something or other.

And Harry stuck close to Regulus Black, desperate to ask him the question he was sure he already knew the answer to; something that he had been certain of for months.

"Mr Black?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"My sister…she's yours, isn't she?"

Malachi's dad looked at him sharply, eyes dancing with amusement; "Oh. You think so?"

"I know it."

Mr Black tilted his head to the side and then he laughed, glancing up ahead and giving a nod; "I should be so lucky, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, no. But I _am_ honoured to be considered."

"You're so good with her," Harry stated, as the man glanced at him out the corner of his eye, smilingly; "And with me," he added, timidly; "I wouldn't mind, you know. I know it has to be a secret, obviously. But…if you'd just _tell_ me, it'd be better for everyone, right? You could see her, then, properly. Not just wait until it's my birthday or something to find an excuse to come out with us."

"Ah. You think I dragged you all out here to spend time with Grace?"

"Yup."

"I am sorry to disappoint you. But I only have one child," Mr Black's eyes went up ahead, to Malachi, who was helping Grace climb up onto a low wall, holding her hand as she carefully balanced and walked along it; "And only ever will."

Harry hesitated in his steps for a moment, struck by the obvious regret in the man's voice, and his resolve wavered a bit when he noticed; "Why only one?"

"I'm sure Malachi has told you."

"Well…yeah," neither said the word 'Death Eater', but it was obvious what Mr Black meant; "But you had Malachi."

"Who has suffered for it, don't you think? My mistakes. Another child? Not on your life, Harry."

Harry couldn't help but believe that Regulus Black meant it, with every bone in his body, the statement was made with such conviction.

But, then, he _had_ to be Grace's father. It was the only thing that made any sense.

"Mr Black!" Grace suddenly ran up to them, stopping in front of Malachi's dad; "Can I ride up on your shoulders?"

"My shoulders?" Mr Black repeated with a grin, not stopping in his steps, so that Grace was forced to carry on walking quickly, backwards, looking up at him with a bright smile and wide, pleading eyes.

"Yes! Daddy lets me."

"Oh, he does, hmm?"

Harry eyed Mr Black carefully as Grace said it, spoke of her father as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and the man didn't react in any knowing or surprised way by it. Simply gave his sister a smile and then, in a flash, it turned cheeky and he grasped her by the sides and tossed her up into the air making her squeal and laugh, before he did as she asked and plonked her up on his shoulders; "To the carousel, Miss Grace, I think?"

"Giddy up, horsey!" Grace grasped fistfuls of Mr Black's hair, making him wince and remind her that:

"Hey, those hairs are attached, don't forget!" and then he took off in a speed walk towards the fair that was now coming into view.

Harry watched them go, thinking he _had_ to be right. The picture in front of him should only confirm it. Regulus Black laughing and carrying his baby sister up on his shoulders, as she giggled and cuddled into the top of his head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and something they had done numerous times before.

But after the conversation just had, Harry couldn't shake it.

That maybe he hadn't got it quite right, after all.

* * *

Harry sat on the floor of his bedroom, eyes closed, as he breathed in and out; not counting the breaths, no, as he had often found himself doing in the early weeks of doing this. He was just focusing on them, breathing in and letting them go, careful not to let his mind wander. To feel himself enter that strange, eerie calmness that he had, only just last week, finally started to be able to reach.

It was weird, the utter stillness he found he was able to reach when he did this, the control he was able to command over his mind and his thoughts; thinking only of the here and now, not letting them drift and linger and take him out of the present moment of nothingness.

And, ever since he had managed to reach it, Snape had been right.

Harry hadn't had a nightmare ever since.

Bizarrely, he found himself eager to get back to Hogwarts, desperate to boast to Snape of his accomplishment – because he was totally convinced that Snape doubted he could even _do_ this, even if it had been assigned to him as homework – and see the look on the Professor's face when he _proved_ it to him.

Harry only hoped it would translate well into a defence against Snape's legilliemency when their occlumency lessons resumed.

A knock on the door disturbed Harry from his thoughts.

His thoughts, Harry realised with exaggerated despair. He had to watch that; when he got too excited, he lost it. The calmness, the control over himself.

"Yeah?"

The door to his bedroom opened, his mum popping her head around the door.

"Still awake, Sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded; "Homework assignment. But I'm done now. What's up?"

His mum stepped into the room, closing the door behind her; "I wanted to speak to you."

"Oh," Harry frowned, quickly picking up on the sombreness of his mum's mood; "Okay." He got to his feet, going to the bed and taking a seat. His mum sat next to him, looking torn, as if she didn't know how to begin.

Harry swallowed, nervously; "Did Mr Black say something to you, yesterday?"

His mum looked at him sharply, frowningly; "Mr Black?"

"Yeah. About Grace?"

His mum rolled her eyes, her voice weary when she said; "No. Harry, this…this isn't about Grace."

Harry only looked at her, feeling anxious as the silence between them stretched and he quickly picked up on the fact his mum was upset and struggling with whatever it was she had to say to him.

"Mum?" Harry reached out, taking her hand; "Are you okay?"

His mum released a breath, squeezing his hand in turn and giving him a smile that didn't meet her eyes; "Yes. Well, no. I…It's your dad, Harry."

Harry immediately frowned, the statement so out of the blue and of a subject so-never-spoken-of between them that he was immediately thrown; "My dad?" he repeated, stupidly, as if he had no idea who this person was.

His mum nodded, taking his other hand and looking at him, concernedly; "Yes. Your dad, he's been receiving treatment this summer. Only trials, but we thought that, maybe, they would bring him back to us."

Harry swallowed, taking in the information spoken, nervously, wondering if his mum was about to tell him his father would soon be coming home to them. After all these years. A father he didn't remember. Harry turned the thought over in his mind, trying to make sense of it, the idea that James Potter may soon be in his life once more, not sure exactly how he felt about the prospect; knowing he should feel excited, thrilled.

But his mum wasn't acting as if what she was telling him was something to be thrilled or excited about.

Harry realised, no, his mum wasn't telling him his dad was coming home.

"It didn't work?" Harry said, knowing the answer.

His mum shook her head; "No, Sweetheart. It didn't."

His mum squeezed his hands, drawing in a steadying breath; "Actually…" She hesitated, still seeming unsure what she was going to say but Harry realised it, then. Because, if James Potter wasn't coming home, there was only one other thing it could be.

"He's dying, isn't he?" Harry said it far too bluntly, he realised, when his mum met his eyes, sharply.

His mum nodded, tentatively; "Yes."

Harry tried to make sense of _that_ and found himself just as bewildered by the thought of his father's death as he did by the idea of his father actually coming home. Neither evoked much reaction except, he supposed, the thought of him coming home made him nervous, while the thought of him _not_ left Harry feeling blank.

Nothing.

Harry immediately felt guilty, which he supposed was better than the utter nothing he'd felt a second ago, but feeling guilt for not being upset, devastated, _distraught_ at the death of the man who had given him _life_ wasn't exactly on par with what a son ought to feel upon learning about the death of their father.

Not at all.

When Sirius had died, Harry wouldn't eat for days. Couldn't sleep unless he was held tight in his mother's arms. The knot in his stomach, the raw, painful lump in his throat, the utter loss he had felt had rendered him completely _broken._

For James Potter, though, Harry felt only emptiness.

It was…wrong.

Harry lowered his chin, willing himself to feel the pain he knew his mum was expecting, but instead, unable to properly muster it up past his bewilderment at what he _wasn't_ feeling, squeezed his mum's hands instead, because she clearly was feeling the things that _normal_ people felt when they heard someone so important to their lives was about to die.

"Mum, are you okay?"

His mum nodded, immediately; "Sweetheart, are _you?"_

"I…yeah? I guess? I…I'm okay."

He wasn't sure if that's what he was supposed to say. He was so confused. He'd never been so much so.

Harry tried to remember his dad, all that people had told him about him, how good and kind and brave he had been. Willed himself to cry, if only for his mum's sake, but it came up short; so short. He only shook his head. He thought harder, willed the sadness to hit, and remembered what Remus had said about his dad.

How he was 'bright and loyal and too cocky for his own good'. And, then, of course, _of course,_ the only real picture or memory he had at all of his father came to mind and it wasn't even his own memory, no; it was of a hard glare of hatred and a cold voice and it wasn't what Harry wanted to see or remember, not now, but it did the trick and he felt tears spring to his eyes, as he remembered all he had seen in that occlumency lesson with Snape some months before and that, _that_ was all he had of his father and all he ever would.

His mum pulled him into her arms, noticing his distress.

Harry simply allowed his mum to hold him, as he tried to make sense of it in his mind.

That, soon, James Potter, his father, would truly be gone.

* * *

"Okay, here; the International Statute of Secrecy came into effect in sixteen-ninety-two, thereby placing all known magical beings under the obligation to conceal themselves and the presence of the wizarding world, under the threat of imprisonment, from the world at large, in order to protect – "

Harry broke off.

This was _so_ _boring_.

How could Malachi seriously have spent the entire summer _reading_ this stuff?

They were in the Research Centre at the Foundation. _Again_. And that was pretty much where they had spent the whole summer, now that the Statute and the politics and the _blah_ of it all had somehow drawn Malachi's intense fixation, ever since Malfoy had dug his claws into him the last few weeks of school.

Harry tossed the history book aside, drawing a knee up to his chest, and flung an arm over it as he looked over at Malachi, who was deeply engrossed in one of the newspaper articles he had come across; "When is Greengrass coming?"

"She said she'd be here after lunch. So, soon, probably."

Malachi's new Slytherin friend had never said so much as two words to Harry in the whole time that they had been in the same year at Hogwarts. They were so off one another's radar they may as well be on different planets and the thought of actually spending an afternoon with her – especially if it involved any more of _this_ dry subject area – was not something Harry was looking forward to. Maybe he'd just head over to the Bistro for something to eat, or down to the Lab to see what his mum was up to, or maybe, even, Mr Black could do with some company and he could feel him out a little bit more about the whole thing with Grace.

"Is this all you and Greengrass do? Sit about reading _politics?_ "

Malachi shrugged, not looking up; "What else would we be doing?"

"I dunno," Harry shrugged, before smirking; "Snogging?"

Malachi shot him a look; "Yeah, right."

Harry chuckled, that _must_ be it; "Come on. Why else would you be so interested in all of this, all of a sudden? You fancy her."

"What?" Malachi laughed, shaking his head; "I don't _fancy_ her!"

"Why not? She's pretty."

"She's not pretty," Malachi eyed him, denying the claim, despite the fact that she clearly _was_ ; "And we're not snogging. This is about my _dad_." He tossed the newspaper he was reading onto Harry's leg; "Look. Anchor Ridge. Someone left me another article about the same thing when we were at school. It's got something to do with him, I think."

"Voldemort?"

"My dad. But, yeah, _him_ too."

Harry glanced down at the article, beginning to read it with the same disinterest he had done with the history book, but this was a bit meatier, at least. Actually, Harry realised with a frown, as the article went on, it was…really, really _bad._

Harry glanced up at Malachi, uncertainly, giving the article a double take, as if it might disappear if he did; "What makes you think it has something to do with your dad?"

"Why else would they leave it in my bag to find?"

"To make you think it was him," Harry suggested, eyes glancing over the article again, as he shook his head, the appalling words written gradually sinking in. Thirty-six dead in an unprovoked attack; the building that harboured them blown up in a combustion so violent that only ash was left behind in its place. Another two victims pulled limb from limb and strung up as a symbol upon the remains of it, a warning, of what to expect if you defied the will of the 'Dark Lord' and his promises.

"No way was your dad involved in this," Harry said, assertively. No way, no way.

Malachi didn't seem so sure, just stared at the offending article with almost neutrality, as if he were immune to it now; the reality of what his father had been during the war.

Harry glanced down, hands curling the edges of the paper; "My dad died."

Malachi looked at him, quickly; "What?"

Harry shrugged, head still down, as he crumbled the newspaper in his hands, not looking at his friend as he spoke; "Last night. Mum told me last week it was happening. I didn't…mum asked if I wanted to go and see him. But I didn't. I dunno. Maybe I should have but…"

Harry broke off, uncertain what to say, because he still didn't _feel_ what he knew he should be feeling. He still felt guilty, confused, and _robbed_ of what he knew he really should have had with his father. But he didn't feel _sad_ and therein lay Harry's uncertainty. Anything he possibly could or wanted to actually _say_ on the matter came across as either cold, too matter-of-fact for a son who should be in mourning, or insincere, as, really, he was someone who had never even _known_ James Potter.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Malachi's hand was on his arm.

Harry met his eyes, then, feeling his guilt intensify under the sympathetic eyes of his friend. If Regulus Black were to die, Malachi would be utterly devastated - inconsolable, probably – which was the way it should be.

"I…I'm not sad," Harry admitted; "I…I don't really feel much of anything."

Malachi just looked at him, in a way that made Harry sure that he understood what he was saying, even if he couldn't really, before he nodded, slowly; "I remember feeling like that. With mum. Numb and not knowing what to do with myself."

Harry paused, wondering if it was the same. But how could it be, when Malachi and his mum had actually _had_ something, whereas Harry and his dad had not. Malachi spoke of his mum with love and melancholy and a smile on his lips, even now, years later and Harry knew he would never do that, speak about his dad in the same way.

He knew it because he'd been through this before, with Sirius, and it was so different and raw and earth shattering, and it hurt, even now, to remember it but he could still do what Malachi had just done; he could talk about him and smile and _remember_ because it was something he and Sirius had had. Something real and tangible and Harry had loved him.

None of that could be said about his father.

Harry shook his head, speaking quietly; "I don't think it's the same, Malachi. I don't feel numb. I just…I don't feel _anything_ for him. I know it sounds horrible and wrong and I'm ashamed to say it but…I just, I don't _remember_ him or anything about him so…how could I be sad?"

Malachi just looked at him for a second, without any judgment in his eyes, and Harry was glad he had spoken to him because, just by saying the words, a weight felt as if it had lifted from him, a weight he didn't even realise was there. As if just saying it and having someone _not_ look back at him with a look of shock or horror or disgust alleviated him of the guilt he felt.

"I'll be back in a minute," Malachi said, suddenly getting to his feet.

Harry frowned, watching as Malachi headed from their spot on the floor, in the private room of the Research Centre always assigned to them when they were there, and quickly he became bored when his absence stretched.

He reached over for one of the journals Malachi had been looking at earlier, the article written by Regulus Black in The Oracle Bulletin and started to read.

It was still so surreal to Harry, that Mr Black had been a Death Eater, that he had written and _believed_ all this stuff when he had been young. Harry still couldn't reconcile it, the truth that he _had_ been with the kind, laughing man who had spent Harry's birthday entertaining four teenagers and a five-year-old, just so – Harry realised, looking back – his mum could have time to deal with the news that his dad was going to die.

Harry didn't know how anyone could _not_ like Regulus Black. He would be happy, more than happy, for a man like that to be his father.

But then, maybe that was the point.

Regulus Black was _beloved_.

Harry had read the articles, had given his thoughts on them back to Malachi; how Mr Black had not only believed but, also, _preached_ the ultimate abolishment of the Statute, so that wizards and all magical beings could finally be free from the oppression that came with the need to conceal themselves from the muggles and the world, and how the only answer was to stand up and fight for it.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Mr Black's words, spoken and written, had helped Voldemort swell his ranks during the war and, probably, that was what had made Mr Black so valuable to him in the first place. How everyone had – and still – liked the young Black heir, and listened to him, unable to resist his charms, which he had put to use, even as a student at Hogwarts, to rally like-minded teenagers around the cause.

"Hey."

Harry looked up at the unfamiliar voice.

Grey, blue eyes looked down at him, uncertainly, as Greengrass crossed her arms loosely across her middle.

He sat up a bit straighter; "Oh. Hi."

The two of them just looked at one another, awkwardly.

When the silence stretched, Harry used his foot to move aside the mess of books and parchments to clear a space on the floor for her to sit. He met her eyes as she moved to do so, saying, stupidly; "I'm Harry."

As if Greengrass didn't know who he was.

She met his eyes, giving him a wry smile as she lowered herself onto the carpet; "I know who you are. You're Malachi's friend."

Malachi's friend.

It certainly beat Boy Who Lived. Or James Potter's Son. Or, Hell, _Heir of Slytherin._

"Yeah," Harry agreed; "Malachi's friend."

"I'm Daphne," she said, her eyes dancing with amusement and her lips pursing in a strange sort-of smile; "Malachi's _other_ friend."

"Right," Harry said, almost smiling as well, "Pleasure."

"Got it," Malachi said, as he appeared out of nowhere and plonked down in between them; "Hey, Daphne."

"Mac."

Malachi thrusted a bunch of parchments into Harry's hands; "Orion. I knew there was something."

"What's 'Orion'?" Harry asked, glancing curiously through the pieces Malachi had handed over to him.

"It's a project that the research fellows were working on, the last one that went through right before the Foundation fell during the second war. It's not that well known anymore, I think it was a stepping stone to another project that fell through. But Severus was running it, he knows how it works. You should talk to him."

"Snape?"

"Yeah. It restores memories, kind of. I'm not really sure _how_ it works. I just remember my dad talking about it with some of his staff when it was all going through. It was a big deal at the time, made them a ton of money."

Harry held Malachi's look for a second, before turning down to the information that he had handed over to him; proposals and the aims and outcomes of a Project Orion that was dated way back to nineteen-eighty-seven. And, sure enough, Professor Severus Snape was listed as the primary point of contact and originator of the project.

Harry glanced at Malachi, sceptically, but with Greengrass sitting there they couldn't really speak openly about any of it anymore, not his father's death or Snape or, certainly, not the occlumency lessons that made it possible for Harry to even approach him with this.

So, Harry said nothing, just gave a smile of thanks, and tucked the parchments away into his bag to look over later.

Though his mind continued to mull it over, even as he sat there for the rest of the afternoon with them; that maybe there was something _Snape_ could do that would help him remember something other than the awful little snippets he currently had about his dad.

* * *

"Honey, here, let me help you with that."

"Oh, it's fine, Julia –" Lily's sentence broke off when Julia plucked the box she held from her hands.

"If only there were a _gentleman_ in the room to do so for you," Julia said, with a pointed grin in Regulus' direction as she passed him.

"Uh, my hands are a little full at the moment," Regulus' said, voice muffled from beneath where Grace had him pinned to the floor.

"Mr Black is busy, Julia!" Grace confirmed his excuse, releasing his hands to bounce on his chest, and Regulus quickly reached up to tickle her sides, igniting delighted squeals and giggles as she squirmed to get away.

"Pack it in," Julia muttered under her breath, as she knelt down next to them, putting the box down by the fireplace, "This is a funeral."

"She's five, Julia," Regulus said, quietly as Julia had, so that Lily would not overhear; "She doesn't need to hear all this."

"Hear all what?" Grace asked, trying in vain to tickle him back, little fingers clawing at his sides.

"Oh, the joys of life, Miss Grace," Regulus said, reaching up to ruffle her hair and she grinned widely down at him.

"Mr Black, is my daddy coming home soon?"

"Ah. Your daddy?" Regulus glanced in Lily's direction, suddenly feeling put on the spot. He actually knew very little about the Snapes' living arrangements – he had always guessed at some sleepovers, he supposed – but from the hints Severus had dropped before the summer, Regulus knew he hadn't seen Grace for quite some time.

"Yes. I saw you together, you know. You're friends!"

Regulus only smiled.

Before he was forced to answer, the door opened, and Remus Lupin stepped into the room.

"Uncle Remus!" Grace sprung up from his chest, running across the room to greet him.

It was, perhaps, the one and only time of Regulus' life that he would be happy to see the man.

Regulus got to his feet, shooting a grin in Julia's direction when they were suddenly eye level with one another.

"So, you've offered yourself up to Grace's disposal for the rest of the afternoon, have you?"

Regulus gave a shrug; "Well. I won't be attending. And, seeing as the rest of the wizarding world seems so keen to, it was an obvious solution. A funeral is no place for a child."

Harry appeared on the stairs, making his way down to the living room, dressed in a full black suit with Malachi close on his heels, dressed in similar attire, having asked and been keen to go and support Harry.

They, too, seemed oblivious to the sombre nature of the event, bickering and snickering as they came within earshot.

"Shut up, Harry," his son said, laughingly.

Harry laughed in turn; "Protecting the honour of your girlfriend, now? I better watch myself."

" _You're_ the one that thinks she's pretty."

Regulus' interest was suitably piqued; "Girlfriend?"

Malachi looked at him, quickly, before rolling his eyes; "No, Dad."

"Please, tell me more," Regulus approached them, with his arms across his chest and wide smile, which Harry returned, wickedly.

"Yeah, an _older woman,_ Mr Black."

Malachi snorted, giving Harry a shove, and they laughed.

Regulus chuckled, smiling at the display; "And does she have a name?"

"Daphne Greengrass," Harry said, immediately.

Regulus froze.

"Okay. Are you sure you don't mind this, Regulus?" Lily was suddenly in front of him, pulling on her cloak; "I could bring her –"

Regulus quickly composed himself, waving a hand; "Yes, it's fine. We'll have fun, won't we, Grace?" he directed his attention towards Severus' daughter with a smile.

Grace shot him a wide smile from where she was now perched in Remus Lupin's arms; "Yep! Lots!"

Regulus grinned, knowing the little girl would ensure just that.

Lily smiled, going over to kiss her daughter on the cheek, saying quietly but not quietly enough that Regulus couldn't hear her warning to; "- be good for Mr Black. I don't want to hear of any nonsense."

"I don't make nonsense, Mummy!" Grace straightened, indignantly, and Lupin chuckled, before giving her a kiss on the head and plonking her down on the floor for a hug from her mother.

Malachi and Harry headed for the door, Regulus handing over a few galleons when they passed, just in case his son should need it, and then the others poured out of the house after them, until it was just himself and Grace left behind.

"What's first on the agenda today, Miss Grace?"

"Show me something magic!"

Regulus chuckled, holding out a hand; "Alright."

She took it, eyes wide and hopeful as she added; "And then you can tell me stories about Daddy."

Regulus pursed his lips together, trying to muster up some 'safe' tales of Severus Snape he might be able to share; "Alright."

Grace smiled brightly, delighted at his consent, and then she tugged him in the direction of the kitchen; "Come on."

The afternoon passed quickly.

While Harry was a frequent visitor and often accompanied himself and Malachi on various excursions when Hogwarts scheduling allowed it, little Grace Potter was someone Regulus only really saw on occasion.

It struck him, then, how remarkably like _Severus_ she was, upon closer observation, when she had finally settled down from her excitement and took up post at the kitchen table, happy to colour in silence after a couple of hours of watching him transfigure pebbles into roses and freeze water into ice, dropping in little stories and facts about her father as and when she asked.

Regulus dropped in simple phrases, such as, 'yes, you're daddy likes it when you hold your wand like this', or 'he's very good at doing spells without speaking', or 'he would never go away and leave a task unfinished'; all of which, really, told Grace very little about Severus at all, nothing substantial, certainly, but the little girl seemed thrilled just to have someone speaking to her, openly, about him and Regulus was happy to oblige.

All the while, Regulus picked up little things that made it startlingly obvious to him who this little girl's father was.

"How does it do that? The magic?"

"Turn the pebble into a rose?"

"Yes?" Grace nodded, keenly; "How does it work?"

"Oh! I use a spell. Sorry, Miss Grace, I should have spoken it verbally."

"No, but how does the _spell_ work? What makes it?"

"What _makes_ it?" Regulus made a show of thinking about the question.

Which he _was_ , wondering if this five-year-old was seriously asking him the technicalities of spell components which, Regulus knew _nothing_ about. Regulus didn't know how to invent spells. He was interested in the final results, of course, and _using_ them, but sitting down and spending hours formulating an enchantment of his own. Well, that was far beyond his capabilities.

Or, frankly, his interest.

That was Severus' forte.

"You'd have to ask your Daddy, Grace."

"You don't know?"

"I'm afraid not."

Grace had looked at him with such scepticism and _disappointment_ at his lack of insight that, for a moment, Regulus felt as if he were looking at Severus' himself!

And there were other things, such as now, as she turned her attention to the simple task of colouring in a little picture of a cottage, keen to stay within the lines – not quite managing but _trying –_ and her expression was incredibly like her father's when he was concentrating in that moment, too.

It was there, in the way her eyes would narrow in focus on whatever she was doing, entirely raptured in the task at hand. The way she would take her bottom lip and hold it there between her teeth as she carried on. How she would glance at a person out the corner of her eye when they dared to interrupt, not answering right away, as if willing them to, please, leave her in peace.

And then the exasperation evident when she finally was forced into giving in, looking up with a roll of her eyes when her focus was sufficiently spoiled by the interruption.

Regulus had seen _that_ look a million times before.

_This_ was Severus Snape's daughter.

Regulus chuckled to himself, moving around the kitchen and leaving her in the peace she seemed to suddenly crave, no longer thrilled at his commentary, and decided to fix them up something to eat.

He reached for the chopping board, where it balanced along the back of the counter, and, as he did, knocked the backpack Regulus recognised as Harry's, over the edge and he heard its contents burst out and spread over the floor.

Grace jumped, glancing at the mess, but said nothing, turning her attention back to her most-serious-task, and Regulus chuckled, stepping around the counter to gather it all back up.

The smile was wiped from his face, however, when said contents came into view.

A dozen copies of The Oracle Bulletin laid scattered at his feet.

* * *

James Potter's funeral had been packed.

His _father's_ funeral had been packed, Harry reminded himself.

Though, how he could forget who the man was to him on that day, of all days, Harry couldn't fathom for the event was full of both familiar faces and strangers, all of whom wanted to shake his hand and commiserate with and tell him stories of the man his father had been and how he looked so much like him and how he was _certainly_ following in his father's footsteps, a Gryffindor and a Quidditch player.

How unique.

Harry pushed aside the bitter thought, carefully dodging out the way and changing direction whenever he noticed someone approaching.

They were at the Burrow, now, Mr and Mrs Weasley offering up the residence for the wake – they obviously couldn't have it at their own house – and it was just as crowded as the service had been.

His mum hadn't faired much better, hounded in much the same way, and she seemed not just sad but also uncomfortable, sometimes, when some people, unabashedly addressed her;

"It is incredibly admirable, how you have stayed true to your husband for so long, Lily. So willing to wait for him."

Harry glanced at his mum from where he stood, a little bit away, and he noticed how she shifted, shaking her head; "Oh. Well. Of course…"

"Of course. Many would have moved on. You were so young when you lost him, your whole life ahead of you," the old woman whom Harry didn't recognise – thankfully, as he was sure he didn't want to ever speak with this woman again – went on; "It is refreshing, to see the younger generations taking their marriage vows so seriously."

"Mum," Harry walked up to them, noticing his mum's discomfort, "Mum, can I talk to you?"

"Yes," his mum quickly put her hand on her son's arm, casting a smile at the woman; "Thank you, Beatrice. It was good to see you again."

She led Harry away.

"Are you alright, Sweetheart?" she was immediately concerned, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Just thought you could use a bit help," Harry shrugged.

His mum smiled, drawing him in close and pressing a kiss to the side of his head; "You're a life saver, Harry."

Harry chuckled, smiling up at her.

"Where's Malachi?" she asked, looking around.

"Don't worry, Uncle Remus is 'guarding' him. Not that Malachi's happy about being under watch."

She smiled and nodded, relaxing at the statement, making to speak again but she was interrupted when they were, once again, approached by others wishing to offer their condolences; "Lily."

"Professor McGonagall," his mum looked shocked – as did _Harry_ – at the unexpected presence of his Head of House.

"My dear," Professor McGonagall took Lily's arm, looking incredibly warm, to Harry's astonishment – she was always such a reserved woman, almost to the point of _chilliness –_ and gave her a nod; "Please, accept my condolences –"

Harry backed away, leaving them to it.

He realised it was actually _worse_ having to face the sympathetic faces of people he knew and liked and admired, as they spoke words of comfort and compassion about his 'loss', than it was when they came from complete strangers.

Harry felt like a fraud.

He turned and could see others looking his way, making to approach, and Harry didn't want to do this anymore. He didn't want to smile and nod, politely, and listen to any more of this, he _didn't,_ and he worried that if he heard another word he might just burst, say something he really shouldn't, and so he dodged the ensuing conversation by taking the exit out of the Burrow and into the garden.

There weren't many people out here, just a few, but that few were enough to send Harry heading in the other direction, particularly when their eyes softened in acknowledgement, another threat of approach.

Harry headed further away, towards the pond, where it was quiet and entirely uninhabited, and, for that, Harry was glad.

He wanted to be alone.

He had done, ever since he'd heard from his mum the week before, that this was happening.

It seemed when it came to James Potter, everyone was so quick and willing to offer up platitudes and comparisons and stories of what a great man he had once been, no one really willing to tell him the truth of who he was – his Uncle Remus had come the closest but even he was biased – but, even then, even if people had told him the opposite, it wouldn't matter.

Harry didn't _know_ him.

He had nothing of his father.

Harry lifted a stone, attempting to skip it along the top of the pond, as his Uncle Sirius used to do when he was younger. He had always laughed and loved it when he did that, happy to watch Sirius do it for hours, as they simply sat and talked by the river near their old home.

The stone Harry threw skipped once, pathetically, before sinking.

He tried again.

The same.

The next one he threw plunged instantly, creating a splash.

As did the next.

But Harry didn't care anymore, happy just to _throw_ the bloody things; to throw _anything._ And he felt himself becoming wired and agitated and _angry_ at the injustice of it all. That he had never known his father and all these people here, had, and he would never know what or who he was.

The only picture he had of him lifeless in a hospital bed.

Or, worse, those that he had glimpsed in Snape's memories; a cold, hard glare of hate that glared straight at him, _meaning_ it, and Harry chucked another stone at the water and then he ran, ran further up the grassy incline, with nowhere in mind, no direction at all, he only wanted to get away.

Happy to run, to just be running.

To leave all these people behind.

Harry didn't stop until he came out amongst the trees, rather far from the Burrow and the people, though not nearly far enough, but he stumbled when his feet hit the fallen branches and the uneven terrain, making him lose momentum and stop.

He reached up, rubbing the palm of his hand across his forehead and feeling sweat, and he noticed his breathing was uneven from the exertion as he glanced back in the direction of the house.

He really shouldn't have travelled so far.

His mum would be worried.

He was never allowed out the house or Hogwarts, or _anywhere_ , not without someone to watch him.

There was always his mum or his Uncle Remus or Mr Black.

To protect him.

Harry sighed, feeling stupid, as well as a fraud, now. His mum would keep him locked up the rest of the summer, now, when she realised he'd gone.

He sighed and felt himself deflate, shoulders dropping, as he took a step towards the Burrow, beginning to head back, though without any of the same enthusiasm to return as he had had to get away.

But Harry didn't get far.

A snap of a branch behind him quickly alerting him to the unexpected, frightening realisation that he was not alone.

Within a second, something was pulled roughly over his head, an unspoken spell hitting him from behind.

Plunging Harry into darkness.


	50. August 1994: Dire Straits

The Dark Lord had _not_ risen.

The startling truth had become apparent to Severus within moments of his regrouping with the Circle, Lucius confirming it shortly upon arrival; that the Dark Lord's current state of being was merely a temporary measure, while the arrangements came together to return him to full strength.

One of several that had been employed over the years, in his attempt to return stronger, _greater_ than the wizard who had been defeated some years before.

In the meantime, only a handful of Death Eaters were granted access to the Dark Lord.

Severus was not one of those few.

As such, he had not yet had to face his old master and offer up the excuses he had been rehearsing day in, day out for the past six weeks.

Obviously, the Dark Lord would not face him in his current state, unable to call upon the full power of his legilliemency – among _others –_ to suitably interrogate him.

It was true. Of all of the followers present, Severus' standing, his value was far greater than any and all of the others combined; their current state of being either Death Eaters who had evaded capture in the commotion of the Dark Lord's second fall – no doubt the ones who had searched for and remained by his side all these years – and those whom had escaped Azkaban during the recent outbreak – which meant that they could offer little in the way of infiltration or strategic planning.

Severus' placement both at Hogwarts and the Foundation, they were offerings the Dark Lord could not pass up; but his loyalty had to be proven, first. As he would be just as great an enemy as he would be an ally.

Severus tightened his occlumency barriers, reflexively.

This, _this_ would have been the perfect time to attack; the Dark Lord sufficiently weak enough and his followers all gathered around, sitting ducks, awaiting orders, if only Regulus had managed to track down that last horcrux. The damn snake, that was currently slithering only metres away from Severus, a careful enchantment placed upon it so that it glowed as if shielded, the Dark Lord seeming to not trust, even, his Death Eaters or thin air around the creature. But Severus pushed the thought aside, reminding himself that he and the followers who surrounded him did not _know_ about the horcruxes and, certainly, not that Nagini was one of them.

Severus glanced up from where he sat upon a cold, stone sort-of bench some metres away from the others who had relocated outdoors, when he noticed Lucius approaching, a shallow-filled sack of something carried carefully in his arms.

They were stationed within the most rural lodgings imaginable – three old style cottages which were deserted or, rather, made so by the current inhabitants – in the grassy, rolling hills of the countryside of Romania, though the location looked to be of more a drying brown than the lush greenery Severus was used to seeing in the countryside of Yorkshire where his own home was located.

Severus gave a nod of greeting when Lucius reached him, placing the sack upon the ground at his feet and taking a seat by his side.

Severus eyed the item, making no move to touch it; "Have we orders?"

"Only yourself for the time being," Lucius confirmed, though he did not elaborate on the suspicious offering.

Severus looked at him, expectantly, when the other man said nothing. Lucius had folded his hands upon his lap and was eyeing them, silent and contemplative, as if uncertain whether to speak what was on his mind, and Severus knew that whatever it was that the other man was weighing up, it had nothing to do with said orders that the Dark Lord had sent his way.

Severus waited.

"How is my son?"

Severus should not have been surprised.

If anything, what ought to be a surprise was that it had been over week for Lucius to come out and ask.

"He is well," Severus said; "A Slytherin."

"Of course," Lucius' lips moved in the barest hint of a smile, eyes straight ahead; "I would expect nothing less."

Severus glanced at him and he knew he ought to say more, that what he had said would do nothing to quench Lucius' longing to know more of his son. _He_ would need more, to be parted from Grace so long. _Six years_. Severus knew he could not bear it. The past few months had been hard enough.

It was this, rather new, knowledge of that – the pain of a father to be parted from his child – that encouraged him to be more open, more so than he would have bothered to be in the past.

"He is a talented student. A Quidditch player; a seeker. And he is well mannered and kind to his mother."

Lucius kept his eyes on the horizon, barely reacting to the words spoken, but, even then, Severus could tell that he was affected. After a moment, Lucius drew in a breath and met Severus' eyes, unspoken gratitude expressed in his look for only a second, before he finally spoke as if the exchange had never taken place.

"It seems the Dark Lord has seen fit to impart a rather substantial task upon you, Severus."

"I serve at the pleasure of the Dark Lord."

"As do we all," Lucius said, almost dryly, at his response, before he went on; "The Ceremonial Ritual that will restore him to full strength; he has asked that you be the one to lead it."

Severus could barely contain his surprise at _that._

"I…I am honoured to be considered worthy of it."

Lucius got that enigmatic smile of his, clearly taking pleasure in how he had taken Severus off guard with the order.

"As Potions Master, it is only natural that you would be called upon. Can you do it?"

"Certainly."

"You are aware of the required procedure?"

Severus gave a single nod. Necromancy, it was something that had utterly enraptured him as a student, during the height of his interest in the Dark Arts in his sixth year.

"I am familiar with several," he stated, unabashedly, glad of the chance to do something that might raise him somewhat further in the Dark Lord's esteem – surely, he was not _so_ distrusted, then, if he were being granted this opportunity – not that any fool could not perform it; "There are a number of options."

Or, perhaps, it was another test. For the Dark Lord had nothing to lose; his remaining horcrux saw to that. And, as far as the Dark Lord knew, his Death Eaters, _Severus_ , knew nothing of them, and, so, if Severus were an enemy who wished to eliminate him then this would be his chance.

His chance to reveal his true, treacherous intentions, thwart the ritual and eliminate his old master with poison in the potion, only for the Dark Lord to rise once again by the dark magic anchoring him to this world.

Lucius raised an eyebrow; "I would have thought the ritual of choice would be obvious."

The most brutal. The Dark Lord would have it no other way.

Severus pursed his lips, eyes going to the forgotten sack at their feet; "Indeed. Am I to assume…"

Lucius indicated with a nod that Severus take a look and he did, reluctantly lifting the opening and being presented with a most-lovely pile of decaying old bones; "Bone of the father."

Lucius eyed them with disgust, until Severus let the fabric go and it fell, covering them once more.

"Flesh of the servant, I'm afraid, you shall have to see to yourself," Lucius said, turning his eyes upon him, almost with sympathy.

"Certainly," Severus did not miss a beat, lowering his chin in acquiescence, before going on; "Need I point out that there is another necessary component not currently to hand?"

Lucius made to speak but was interrupted, as if on cue, by the distant sound of a 'pop' of apparition, signalling the return of the two who had departed some days before.

Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch Junior, dispatched on some secret task or another, which Severus could now, easily, guess at. Before them, as they approached, the body of a boy, a teenager, was suspended in the air by magic, and, while the head of said person was covered by a woven hood, Severus knew, without doubt, who the child was.

Harry.

Severus simply stared.

His occlumency barriers tightened, accordingly, as every follower present turned to watch, as the two returning Death Eaters made their way to the cottage where the Dark Lord resided with their precious offering.

Severus drew in a breath, only turning back to Lucius when the door clicked shut behind them.

"Of course, it would be the boy," Lucius said, as way of explanation.

"Of course," Severus conceded, not daring to even _think_ in that moment, certainly not of Harry who was, presently, right before the Dark Lord, himself, and it was only the knowledge of this ritual that Harry would have to be alive for that kept his thoughts from running wild; "Though, need I point out that, the entirety of my value to the Dark Lord rests in my ability to walk amongst his enemies, a spy, and, should Dumbledore's Golden Boy identify me, my cover would be substantially compromised."

"Slit his throat then."

Severus shot him a look which he hoped belied scepticism at the suggestion, rather than the actual horror he felt; "The Dark Lord would not have that. The boy is his."

"True enough. Either way, you know better than to assume Harry Potter will be walking out of this alive."

Lucius got to his feet.

Severus did the same, the reality of being back in this settling upon him once more, in a way that it hadn't done for years. Back to the first, the very first, time, when he had been a mere idiotic child himself, standing there forced to keep himself under control as the Dark Lord spoke of his plans to hunt down the Potters and kill them all; reporting it back to the cold, hard glare of Headmaster Dumbledore, whom did not regard him with any trust whatsoever back in those times – an entirely mutual sentiment – in the hopes that the old man could keep Lily safe.

"In any event," Lucius went on; "We shall be masked. As is the usual practice."

Severus lowered his chin in a nod. And then he lowered himself, carefully lifting the sack of bones that Lucius had brought; "I shall begin the preparations."

"Do. The Dark Lord wishes to begin at nightfall."

With that, Lucius turned and strode back in the direction of the cottage in which the Dark Lord dwelled.

The Dark Lord and Harry.

It took all Severus' strength not to look back at the house.

* * *

"Remus," Lily grasped his arm, thinking it was silly to panic, she was sure everything was just fine, Harry must be _somewhere_ in the house, but she couldn't help it; an almost instinctive, rising dread when she had been unable to find her son or anyone who could confirm his current whereabouts; "Have you seen Harry?"

"No," Remus looked at her with a frown; "The last I saw, he was with you."

"That was ages ago," Lily said, shaking her head, looking around the crowded room, eyes desperately seeking him out.

"Mrs Potter," Malachi hurried up to her, suddenly, "Ginny said she saw Harry go outside."

"Outside?" Lily repeated, dumbly, as Harry knew better than to do so. Her son knew he mustn't leave the house – it was a rule they had established _years_ ago – but she wasted no time thinking further on that, because the panic was setting in, unchecked now, at the information and she hurried to the door, stumbling out, with Remus close on her heels; "Harry?" she called out.

"Oh, Lily!" an old friend of hers and James, Winifred, quickly addressed her; "I think I saw him head over there, on by the pond. He seemed in quite a hurry –"

Lily didn't wait for her to finish, only hurried in the direction she had indicated.

"Harry?" she called out, the panic she felt now slipping into her voice as she said his name, the second becoming a shout; "Harry!" Her eyes darted around in all the various directions, for any sign of her son, the dread coming upon her making it difficult to breathe.

Others were joining her in her search now, quickly picking up on what was going on – that Harry was _gone_ – numerous voices joining hers as people filled out into the surrounding clearing, calling her son's name, entreating him to reveal himself.

But he didn't.

Not a sound or a sign whatsoever, of where Harry had gone.

* * *

For all of Severus' trying, he could not get away from his current post, standing in front of the bubbling cauldron as he began the preparations for the evening's ritual.

This was an utter disaster.

Harry had, once again, managed to get himself into a situation where he would have to face the Dark Lord, _another_ showdown, and Severus was at a loss as to how he could possibly get the boy out of this one.

The surrounding areas were entirely manned by Death Eaters, idle hands, really, which were only more dangerous, as they were all itching for something to do after months – years, even – of simply waiting until this moment, when the Dark Lord would finally rise once more. Finally their master would be reborn with the full force of his powers and, hell, how was Severus supposed to get Harry out of this place alive, it was _impossible_.

But Severus would not panic.

He had been in dire straits before; there must be a solution, and he would find it.

Any attempt to move from his current position was met with offerings from his fellow comrades to fetch him whatever he needed – _how generous_ , he had sneered, unable to help himself, his frustration reaching the highest of heights – but his mood had not deterred them, any and all followers eager to show their willingness to have their Lord returned to them. All doing everything that they could to ensure his favour when they faced him once more, that night.

And so, Severus resorted to the only possible excuse he could muster that one of his fellow Death Eaters _couldn't_ assist him with and muttered an excuse about 'damn bodily functions' – cringing at the indignity of it all – and made his way in the direction of the accommodations to use the out-dated facilities within.

As he passed the one in which the Dark Lord and Harry resided, he glanced as inconspicuously as he possibly could in the direction of the windows, and could see nothing at all, though they were obviously inside, and he had, disappointedly, carried on, into his own shared accommodations and taken the brief time alone to try and muster up a solution to the current predicament in peace.

There was less than two hours until sunset, if his calculations were accurate, which gave little time until the ceremony was to begin. In ideal circumstances, he would have Harry out of here _before_ said ritual were to take place, but that was utterly impossible, too many idle hands watching and waiting for something to do, scattered here there and everywhere, so it would have to go ahead – using Harry's _blood_ no less, but that was not something Severus could worry about now, when the boy's very survival was at stake – he would simply have to try and remove Harry from the danger during, or following, the ritual in the commotion that ensued when the Dark Lord was restored.

What commotion? Well, Severus would just have to fabricate something that would see to it that there was.

Outright sabotage of the potion would be suicide, yes, and only lead to the demise of them both – himself and Harry, eventually – but he had ways of reducing their effects, seeing to it that they took longer than necessary to finally achieve the intended outcome, and, if he were thinking correctly, the stashes of ingredients he kept within his robes included perrilace vines, which would not react in any way with the concoction but would have the effect of causing drowsiness, for a time, thus buying them some of it.

It would have to be enough.

It was _insanity_.

The Dark Lord would surely know that it was not a common side effect, to be restored at such a slow rate, but perhaps it would be put down to it being a barely recorded method of rejuvenation. Indeed, this particular method of revival was so brutal, that the most recent recorded occurrences were dated back to the middle ages.

He could do it. There was no other choice.

Severus would pay for it, of course, but he doubted he would be outright killed, unless it were obvious he had actually did it on purpose. Particularly if his story held up and his value outweighed the Dark Lord's initial fury.

The plan would not cause him harm.

It was the only way to prevent the immediate slaughter of the boy, following the ritual.

It would give him precious time to get Harry the hell out of there.

But he couldn't do it alone.

He could not be implicated.

Though if it came down to his cover, or Harry's _life_ , there was nothing for it; he would blow it.

And so, Severus drew in a breath, and set out of the cottage, as a plan began to formulate in his mind.

Barty Crouch Junior had brought Harry in.

Severus' eyes glanced around the area in search of him, so that he may put the man to use. The fates, it seemed, had it another way, and Rodolphus Lestrange, another of Harry's kidnappers, just happened to turn the corner and made to cross paths with him.

He would do.

Lestrange inclined his head, though his eyes betrayed his distrust; "Snape."

Lestrange ought to distrust him.

He would die for this.

Severus only inclined his head in response, speaking nothing at all. And when they had suitably passed one another and, with a quick glance around the area, to ensure he would not be spotted, Severus gripped his wand tight beneath the folds of his sleeve, thinking, not speaking, the incantation.

" _Imperio."_

* * *

There was a low murmur of chatter.

The crackling of firewood.

A hiss and a slither of a snake.

A breeze that was warm and muggy, stirring the fabric of his clothes.

A buzz in his head and a spinning of the ground, before the darkness that surrounded him was suddenly lifted, the fabric hood pulled roughly from his head and making him stumble forward and fall to his knees, unable to brace himself for the impact with his hands bound behind his back.

Harry was surrounded.

Masked faces gathered in a circle.

A fire burned below a cauldron only some metres away, casting a glow upon the ground and the faces.

It was as if Harry were living the nightmares he had been having, now, for months.

_This_ was his nightmares come to life.

Harry was on the ground, on his knees, utter terror quickly coming over him as he realised what this was, who he was with. His eyes frantically scanned the masks, from the ones beginning on his right, around them all, until they landed upon the one working steadfastly behind the cauldron. That one, the one working, was the only who was not looking in his direction, ignoring the stirring conversation that had intensified when he had been revealed to them all.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

The voice was familiar.

Too familiar.

Harry raised uncertain eyes in the direction of the cauldron, at the man behind it. The man who lifted his arm, the folds of robes sliding back and revealing a pale hand, long thin fingers, and Harry stared at it, in disbelief.

"Flesh of the –"

"No."

The high voice, _that_ high voice, the one Harry knew so well suddenly spoke from nowhere and Harry glanced around, frantically, seeking him out, but Voldemort was out of sight.

"My Potions Master without a hand," the high voice said, and even the unnatural lilt did not conceal a dryness in the statement; "Dolohov."

The hand that Harry was sure he knew, was suddenly covered once more, as another masked face, a Death Eater, stepped forward and held out his own.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master."

Harry's eyes widened in horror as the man behind the cauldron, the man Harry was utterly certain was _Snape,_ lifted and flicked his wand in a smooth motion, the sound of flesh and bone cracking only just heard for a second before a piercing, agonised scream filled the air.

And Harry felt himself start to shake, his breaths coming in little gasps, as he looked around, desperate for any sign or sight of escape or help or _something._

He was going to _die._

The man behind the cauldron suddenly swept out from behind it, striding in Harry's direction, a stride that he knew oh-so-well and Harry scrambled backwards, feet moving frantically in the dirt, only succeeding in falling from his crouched position onto his back, with his arms still bound behind him.

The Death Eater, Snape, was right next to him now and he knelt down into a crouch beside him, yanking him up roughly from the ground.

"You!" Harry's voice was a harsh, accusing gasp.

He had no idea what to say.

His mind was racing, filled with confusion and fury and accusatory words that he couldn't get out.

Snape still had a tight hold of him, reaching around the back of him with his wand clutched tight in the other hand, and when he did he leaned in close, for the briefest of seconds, with the lips of his mask so close they were almost pressed to his ear, and when he did Harry heard his voice, low and warning; "Recludo."

Harry could barely make sense of it.

It was not sneering or jeering or wickedness.

There was warmth there.

And it was, almost, as if it were entreating Harry to trust him.

But what the hell the word _meant_ Harry didn't know.

Harry tried to twist free, his wish quickly granted, when he suddenly found his arms unbound and he fell to the ground once more. Snape grasped one of them, pulling it up, and he slashed his wand across his hand without warning and Harry cried out in pain.

A phial pressed to the cut, gathering the blood that seeped from the gash, and then Snape let him go and he fell back into the dirt.

Snape was back in front of the cauldron, dripping into it the contents of the phial before speaking clearly, loudly, as if in a finale;

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

Harry's eyes were no longer on Snape, who took a step back, but entirely upon the cauldron before him.

Nothing happened.

Harry swallowed, as utter silence filled the air, and he willed nothing to happen. Renew, revive, resurrect. Harry knew what this was. He knew what they were waiting for.

Please, let nothing happen, Harry willed it with all of his might.

And, then, white smoke began to billow from the cauldron.

* * *

This had to work.

It _would_ work.

Severus stood a few paces back, tilted his head so that it appeared as if he, too, had his eyes upon the cauldron but they weren't.

Not at all.

Severus' eyes were entirely on the boy that still knelt in the dirt some feet away from it.

Harry had not tried to run or fight – well, not until Severus had gone to him, that is, which, at least, showed sense. He only hoped the single word he had breathed to him in that moment would be enough to convince him to remain calm, that he knew Harry knew who he was and that he would get him out of this.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the delay working exactly as Severus had hoped, and murmurs began to hesitantly erupt amongst those watching.

Severus gave a sharp nod in Rodolphus Lestrange's direction.

The other man stepped forward immediately, going to Harry, and pulling him roughly to his feet.

* * *

White smoke continued to billow out and upwards towards the sky.

It was rather anti-climatic, actually, though Harry wasn't complaining.

Voldemort still hadn't appeared.

It obviously wasn't what anyone there was expecting but, before Harry could think any further on it, he was suddenly yanked to his feet by a Death Eater – one who _wasn't_ Snape – and he couldn't help but look, desperately, in the Potion Master's direction, wondering if he had got it right or, dreadfully, wrong, when he had thought that, maybe, he was going to help him.

Snape should be the one dragging him away.

The Death Eater who did had a rough hold of him, hauling him in the direction of a rural cottage up ahead, and Harry fought back then; "No! No, let me go!"

Harry clawed at the man, tried to tear off the mask, the hair, the _skin_ of him, and the Death Eater didn't let him go but he turned and backhanded him across the face so hard that his head snapped back, and Harry saw stars.

He could barely gather his bearings, the blow knocking all sense out of him for several disorientating moments, and when he was, finally, able to see clearly once more he saw a cell, a cage, in the corner of a dark, dingy, almost entirely unfurnished room – the main of the cottage, Harry realised – and he was thrown into it with such force that he hit the bars on the other side and sunk to the ground.

Harry gasped, reaching up, and felt blood running down the side of his face, could see blood that still trickled from the gash on his left hand that Snape had inflicted, glittering in the moonlight.

He rubbed his hands over his face, trying the compose himself, and wondered if Snape was going to come. Would he help him?

Harry turned and glanced over his shoulder, saw the Death Eater that had brought him now leaving, the door slamming shut as he did, but then something else caught Harry's attention.

There, lying entirely inconspicuously upon a table a few feet away, was his wand.

His own wand!

Harry flung himself at the bars of the cell, reaching for it. It was out of reach but only just. If he could only…

Harry pressed harder against the cold metal bars, ignoring the ache and the strain as he reached his arm out as far as he could towards it. He twisted and turned himself, swapping sides, uttering ' _accios'_ under his breath, which he knew wouldn't work.

He had heard of people being able to summon their wands. Harry wasn't so gifted.

He would have to rectify that.

If he got out of this alive.

Harry grunted, his breathing becoming laboured as he pressed harder, more desperately against the cell, with his eyes squeezed shut and he gasped when his fingertips brushed the end of wood. He daren't look up or change his position in any way, lest he find it out of reach once more, and he pressed harder, ignoring the bite of pain against his armpit and the side of his face.

His fingertips knocked the wooden object, as they desperately moved to grasp it, but it slipped through his fingers and his wand fell to the floor.

Harry sobbed, turning to look, and it was a fucking _miracle._

His wand rolled towards him on the ground, stopping with a click against the side of the cell bars.

Harry snatched it up immediately, quickly pointing it at the cage door.

"Alohomora."

Nothing.

"Alohomora!" Harry tried again, _meaning_ it more than the first time, if that was even possible.

He needed to get out of here.

He tried another.

"Annihilare."

Nothing.

The cage stayed firmly locked.

Harry scrambled for any and all unlocking charms that he knew.

"Liberare."

Nothing.

"Dunamis."

Nothing.

"Emancipare!"

Nothing. Nothing at all for any of them.

Harry shook his head, growing frustrated, and growled out; "Cistem aperio!"

There was a blast of white light, that made the cell door shake and clatter. But it didn't unlock.

Harry felt despair wash over him.

Even with his wand he was utterly helpless and he touched his forehead to the bars of the cell, eyes closing. Almost in defeat.

Almost.

But not quite.

His mind still going until something lit up within it.

Harry frowned.

He drew back slowly, looking at the locked door of the cage, and then he lifted his wand.

Spoke the single word that Snape had said to him during the ritual.

"Recludo."

The cell door opened with a click.

* * *

Severus remained entirely still.

He daren't move, not since the moment Lestrange had torn Harry up from the ground and put into action the steps that would see to the boy's escape - so long as Harry didn't opt to spend his confinement drowning in self-pity, that is - simply, a cell, secured by an enchantment that only a Death Eater would know how to break, and a wand, carelessly disregarded just within reach of it.

There was nothing suspicious about it, Severus had seen to that; Lestrange was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal, he would not dream of defying him, no. Severus had simply had to ensure that his actions under the Imperius implicated inadequacy, a damning oversight, rather than treachery, and now it was up to Harry.

Severus prayed he had not overestimated him.

The white smoke rising from the cauldron intensified, signalling the impending completion of the resurrection, the imminent rise of the Dark Lord.

Only Severus' eyes moved, behind the cover of his mask, glancing in the direction of the cottage that Lestrange had not long returned from, and, when he did, he caught sight of a figure – barely perceptible in the darkness – in the near distance behind it, hastening in the direction of the trees.

Severus' lips twitched.

The boy had brains, then.

That was the only thought he had time to form, the little flicker of triumph that everything had fallen into place the way he had hoped lasting merely a second, before it quickly turned to dreadful expectancy, as amongst the vapours emitting from the cauldron a figure suddenly formed, ascending and then alighting upon the ground.

The ritual complete.

The Dark Lord had risen once more.

Severus swept forward with the awaiting robe, covering his master.

And then he and all others present fell to their knees before him.

Severus, being the closest, pressed the first kiss to the hem of the robe that cloaked him, and the others followed suit.

It was a slow, _long_ , theatrical display that always took place at the commencement of their assemblages, but Severus was glad of it, for every moment spent simpering on his knees was another step that Harry was taking in the opposite direction.

Run, boy.

"Friends," the Dark Lord's eyes swept the Circle and all followers kept their heads bowed low, their knees to the ground; "Your loyalty, your diligence to our task has finally reached fruition. At last, our waiting is over. You have served me well."

Severus felt the Dark Lord's eyes upon him, as he kept his position at his feet, as he spoke the next words; "Most of you. For certain."

The tone was not as accusatory as Severus feared they might be; rather, they were pondering, as if there actually was a chance he may just be able to secure his position once more, but Severus could not be glad or dwell on the thought for long, as the Dark Lord's attention swiftly turned from him to that which Severus feared for far more.

"But where is our guest of honour? Where is Harry Potter?"

"My Lord," Lestrange spoke up, though he remained in his low position, not raising his head; "The boy is apprehended in his cell."

"In his cell? Where he is missing out on the celebrations; we can't have that. Bring him before me."

"Yes, my Lord," Lestrange was on his feet and heading in the direction of the cottage without a seconds hesitation and Severus felt his stomach coil in dreaded anticipation.

The Dark Lord breathed a grumble that was almost laughter; "You shall all bear witness as I, finally, put to rest these foul whispers that have haunted us for these past six years. Whispers that a boy, a child, should have the power to bring me to my knees. Fooled twice, the vermin of this world have been; they have learnt nothing from the Longbottom boy."

The dark wizard swept the circle in slow, deliberate strides as he spoke, no doubt plotting the precise way in which he intended to carry out the task, the murder of his foe, and Severus willed it with all his might that Harry was long, long gone, but he knew he couldn't have gotten far, certainly not far enough.

"And then," the Dark Lord continued, already seeming to be basking in triumph though the act had not yet been carried out; "We shall rise, once more, and put end to all of those who dared even _breathe_ the words and worship this child. The Boy Who Lived."

The Dark Lord ended on a sneer, just as Lestrange returned to the congregation of Death Eaters, far less enthusiastic to return as he had been to leave.

"My Lord."

Severus could already hear the panic.

"Lestrange. You return without the boy."

The Dark Lord's tone was no longer triumphant. It was clipped. Cold. As if the dark wizard already knew what was coming.

A roiling of tense anticipation passed over the Circle, all immediately overcome with uneasy suspicion of what their comrade had to say, before Lestrange made to speak.

"My Lord," the tone of Lestrange's voice was a notch higher than his usual timbre; "He has…it seems…" He seemed desperate to convey an air of control, which failed miserably in light of the way his voice tremored ever so slightly on the final word; "The boy is no longer in his cell, my Lord. It seems he has…escaped."

A deathly silence fell upon them.

Only the sound of a low _'hiss'_ from Nagini, as the snake slithered across the centre of the circle broke the quiet, almost as if the serpent were connected to the very thoughts and feelings of the Dark Lord, himself.

Which, of course, it _was_.

" _Escaped?"_

The Dark Lord's words came out as a hiss.

And then he gave a sharp nod in Lucius' direction and he, along with Yaxley and Macnair, were on their feet and immediately dispatched, without verbal orders, to begin the hunt.

The rest of them stayed where they were in the dirt, still as stone, the Dark Lord's glee at being revived snuffed out and replaced with a far more familiar, a far more terrifying alternative, and he immediately addressed Lestrange – one of his most loyal – with deceptive coolness.

"Explain to me, Lestrange, how this could have possibly come about?"

"My Lord, I cannot understand it myself," Lestrange said it, as if he were trying to stop himself from blurting out the explanation, in desperation, as they _all_ knew that tone; "I placed the cell under our most secure of incantations. Only a Death Eater would know how to counter it. It is _impossible_ that he could have escaped!"

"And yet it is not."

"My Lord –" it was almost pleading.

It _was_ pleading.

"Look at me."

Severus, all of them, knew what that meant and what was coming next.

It was not arrogance, no, that Severus knew his role in all of this would not be discovered through such methods as legilliemency - he was careful enough to never be _seen_ face on by his fellow – nor was it arrogance that told Severus that his skills in casting the Imperius Curse were so advanced that not a trace of his involvement would be detected, not a trace of the magic at all.

It was simply fact.

As such, it was no surprise to him, moments later, the next words that were spoken.

"Avada Kedavra."

With a thud, Lestrange fell down dead.

No one reacted.

Not even the man's wife, who stood several feet from the body.

The first of the fallen.

The Dark Lord spoke as if nothing had occurred; "He cannot have gotten far. The rest of you; find him," the remaining followers got to their feet as he carried on, giving out clipped orders; " _Alive_. I will kill him myself."

Severus immediately swept East, in the direction he had seen Harry run.

* * *

Harry stumbled.

His knee collided sharply with the ground or a log or a rock or _something,_ but he ignored the searing pain that shot through it as he fell, scrambling with his hands against the fallen forestry of the ground and hurried onwards, pushing himself back to his feet.

Harry had run the moment he had reached the shelter of the trees, not stopping or, even, looking back and he had no idea where he was or where he was going, only that anywhere was better than where he had been. And so, he ran and ran, entirely uncertain if that's what he should be doing.

He had faltered, as he wondered whether or not he should have stayed put and waited for Snape, but he, instinctively, knew, that to do so would be stupid. He had been given the incantation to get out of there and, after that, he was on his own.

But whether he should keep running or whether he should hunker down and hide, Harry didn't know, kept thinking it, even as his feet carried him further and further, his breaths coming in harsh pants and his sides aching and his heart thudding so hard it would soon burst from his chest.

Harry had no idea where he was.

This wasn't the Forbidden Forest but it wasn't a woodland he recognised, either. They definitely weren't anywhere near the Burrow, anymore.

He stumbled again, his foot catching the shrubbery, and he hit the ground on all fours, that time, gasping for breath.

He couldn't stop.

He had to run.

Harry pushed himself back to his feet, clutching one of his sides as he did, and he dared a glance in the distance behind him but could see nothing, the thick leaves of the trees shielding out the moonlight and he daren't light his wand.

He began to turn but hadn't moved his feet.

And, so, the stirring of leaves, that dreadful sound, could not have been him which meant he was no longer alone.

* * *

It did not take long for Severus to come upon him.

But he had an advantage.

He knew these woods, had wandered them with the scouts, and, feeling pretty certain that Harry would just continue to run straight – there were no dangerous magical creatures or inhabitants within these woods that would throw him off course – Severus had simply apparated as soon as he was out of sight of his fellow Death Eaters to a spot he roughly guessed Harry would have reached in the time since his escape.

Severus ended up further ahead of him; Harry appeared, rushing into the vicinity, mere seconds later, some distance behind but within sight, and Severus had carefully hid and then followed when he eventually passed him.

Severus could not approach.

He was not entirely certain how the link between Harry and the Dark Lord's mind worked, if Harry had ever projected his own visions to the dark wizard in reverse, but any surge of emotion – like relief, or anger, or _glee_ – upon seeing him, may trigger it, which would not only implicate his loyalties but also risked giving away Harry's location as well, and the Dark Lord would be upon them within seconds.

Severus noted with exasperation that the boy had not drawn his wand, which meant that he had not cast a spell since escaping camp.

The entirety of Severus' _rescue plan_ relied upon him doing so.

No doubt, Lily was beside herself and had half of Wizarding Britain aware of her son's disappearance by now.

Severus had seen to it, some weeks ago, that rumours arising to pinpoint the Dark Lord's placement in Romania – rather than the, previously thought, location of Albania – would reach Dumbledore and Regulus, and, so, once a search within their own home country fell short, eyes would certainly turn in that direction; for who else would dare kidnap Harry Potter.

The Ministry would be alerted and waiting, watching for any and all signs of his Trace being activated, something the Dark Lord had anticipated and had ordered their dwellings be shielded from, accordingly.

But the entire forest could not have been blanketed out and, so, the Aurors or, at least, the not-quite-reassembled-Order would be waiting for it and, when it did, they would be here to whisk him away and bloodshed would, undoubtedly, ensue.

Bartemius Crouch would want this uprising snuffed out immediately, at any sign of Dark magic.

All of that, however, relied entirely upon the Trace being activated in the first place and Potter wasn't using magic to get away. He was just running, while Severus scampered along in the shadows at distance.

Harry fell to the ground, suddenly.

Severus slowed but continued his approach under the cover of the dark.

By the time Severus was close enough to see him clearly, Harry had gotten back to his feet, and he took the chance to glance over him; the blood and dirt and sweat that clung to the boy's face was haunting as it glimmered in the moonlight, this child who had been through far too much and, still would, if anyone other than him were to spot him now.

Severus pushed aside the desperate urge to go to him - another damn weakness - and apparate him away from the place himself, that instant; there was still time, a chance for this to work.

If Harry would not raise his wand and activate the Trace the solution was simple, Severus would just have to do it.

And it wouldn't be a meagre _'lumos'_ or transfiguration spell, to create cover, though Harry could certainly do with both.

No.

It needed to be something bigger. Something that would, undoubtedly, get the Ministry's attention.

Severus gripped his wand, the spell enacted wordlessly, simply thought within his mind.

' _Expecto Patronum.'_

* * *

Harry flinched at the sudden brightness before him.

A glowing, silver doe approached him, bounded around him in a circle for a moment, before it launched upwards and vanished into the air.

He frowned, wondering at it, what on earth; it was a _patronus_.

But how.

Who?

Harry turned, looking around the woods, feeling both cautious and hopeful, and he found his voice for the first time, though his words came out a tentative whisper; "Snape?"

"Harry!"

He spun around at the voice, sudden and frightfully loud in the quiet, and he couldn't believe his eyes; it was his _mum._

"Mum –"

She had him tight in her arms within a second, and Harry pressed his face into her shoulder, telling himself he ought not to cry, but he felt the wetness of his eyes anyway and just clung to her; the utter relief he felt rendering him helpless in her embrace.

"Oh, God, honey, look at you," his mum whispered, drawing back and her hand coming up to caress his cheek, as she looked at him closely.

"Merlin, Harry," his Uncle Remus said, from behind his mum, leaning in closer and putting a hand on his arm.

And it was only then that Harry took in all those that were suddenly there; seven others, none of whom Harry recognised, had appeared with his mum and Remus, and all had their wands out and were stalking and eyeing the surrounding area.

"Did you notice anyone following you, Harry?" one of the witches said, an Auror, Harry realised, young with bright pink hair though he didn't recognise her.

He shook his head; "No. But they will be."

His mum uttered a cleansing charm under her breath, washing the blood from his face, her wand drawn as she continued to look over him, a work-up, Harry realised, that she would do on her patients, searching for injuries, maladies, and Harry assured her he was okay.

"Was it him, Sweetheart?" his mum asked, squeezing his hand and looking at him, carefully.

He nodded; "Yeah. He…one of his Death Eaters, they locked me up. Mum, I think he'll be _back_ by now. For real. That's the only reason they're not here following me. They were…they were _resurrecting_ him."

"You saw this?"

Harry nodded; "Yeah. They…I think they needed _me_ for it. They used my blood."

His mum and Remus shared a concerned look.

"That's bad, right?" Harry said, already knowing the answer.

"What happened next?" his mum asked.

"I dunno. I think it went wrong or something, they were all watching, and nothing was happening. But I didn't see anything else, that's when they took me away and put me in the cell."

His mum had noticed the slash of his hand and had lifted her wand, was whispering an incantation – a song – to seal the wound.

"How did you get away?" Remus asked.

"I don't…Snape."

His mum looked up, sharply, with a frown; "You saw Severus?"

Remus made a sudden movement at her side.

Harry frowned at the familiarity of the way his mum spoke of Snape but only nodded, disregarding it in favour of telling her the confusing truth; "Yeah. He…I think he _helped_ me _._ I mean, I _know_ he did; he told me how to get out. But…mum, he was _with_ them. A Death Eater."

"Shh," his mum said, looking around the area, suddenly wary; "We'll talk about this at home."

Harry swallowed, looking back in the direction he had come with a frown, as he allowed himself to finally _think_ about all that had happened and what he had seen.

Had there be others there, other that he knew and who knew him, that had stood by and watched; Regulus Black had been a Death Eater, perhaps he was still, and there was Malfoy's father, Harry knew about him, too. All followers.

Harry thought there would have been more of them, he had always heard how they were so powerful, an unbeatable force some years before, but he supposed power beat numbers.

Before Harry could say anything, a flash and a bellow of a spell erupted, lighting the darkness.

And then another.

"They're here!"

"Harry," his mum grabbed him, urging him to take cover, barely a second before the forest was suddenly brought to life with the flashes of spells and the cries of curses and counter curses and Harry couldn't help looking back as she hurried him away from it.

"Mum –" Harry drew out his wand.

"Come on, hold onto me," his mum said, grabbing him, and making to disapparate, Harry realised, but then they were suddenly face to face with a masked figure who threw a curse their way and his mum barely blocked it in time.

"Get down!" she told him, pushing him to the ground as she engaged the Death Eater.

Wow, his mum could actually _duel._

Harry's eyes glanced around the area, his own wand held tight in his hand, at the battle they were suddenly in the middle of.

"Crucio!"

Screams of agony filled the night.

It wasn't an Auror on the ground, Harry realised, but a Death Eater, writhing in the dirt and then it stopped when a flash of light hit the perpetrator.

"Einlatus!" it was his mum's voice, as she flung a curse in her own opponents way, keeping herself placed in front of Harry.

"Crucio!" came the responding curse.

"Sectumsempra!"

More screams.

"Mudblood bitch!" his mum was blasted and hit the ground on her back, at Harry's feet, and he quickly reached down to help her.

A spell was fired their way and Harry blocked it, returning a jinx in response that was utterly amateur in comparison to the spells and incantations being enacted in the night; it was _brutal._

Unforgivables were being thrown back and forth between both sides, indiscriminately, screams and wails and the thuds of those falling to the ground, as Death Eaters suddenly appeared on all sides, and, actually, there were _more_ of them than Harry gave credit for. They were certainly outnumbered, anyway.

"Alert the Dark Lord; we've found him!" one of them cried out.

"Lily, get your son out of here," one of the Aurors said, a rounded man with a wooden leg, that Harry was sure couldn't possibly hold his own in this fight.

His mum grabbed Harry by the arm with a nod, but before she could do so, another Death Eater engaged her.

"Crucio!"

She fell to the ground, writhing and screaming, and Harry watched in horror for a second, at the sound she made and the agony on her face, struck utterly dumb by it before he quickly raised his wand, going to stop the attacker, but he didn't have to.

The Death Eater suddenly fell down at Harry's feet; stunned.

Hit from behind.

Harry frowned, looking out quickly at the forest, at where the spell had come from, but could see nothing, no one in that direction at all.

Before Harry could think any further on it, he was grasped by the arms by his mum – back on her feet – and she disapparated, removing the two of them from the forest.

* * *

Of all the things, the horrors, that Lily had experienced in this life, none of them compared to _this_ day, the day in which she had discovered her son had been taken from her.

And what made it all the more terrifying was the fact that this was only the beginning.

This was Voldemort's rise.

"They used my blood, Mum," Harry told her again, when they were finally home, hours after leaving the forest and having to deal with the immediate inquiries from the Ministry and Dumbledore as to what had occured; "He…he can touch me now, right?"

Lily looked at him, trying to get a grip of herself and conceal her own despair at the realisation, for she could not alarm her son any further than he already was; "I believe so. But he won't get the chance of that, Harry. Not again, _ever_."

Harry looked sceptical, clearly not believing the assertion, both of them just _knowing_ that Voldemort wouldn't stop until he did. She knew Harry knew Voldemort was hunting him, though she had heeded Severus' advice not to bring it up. He would do so, when the time came, what with Harry already confiding in him.

But then, maybe Harry wouldn't be so receptive, now that he had seen what Severus was – or pretended to be – and how he had been there.

"Harry, you said you saw your Potions Professor," Lily probed, carefully, as they sat on the couch, him eager to share what had happened, and she made sure not to slip the way she had done, earlier, when she had referred to him by his first name, Severus, and seemed far too interested in his presence there.

Harry met her eyes and nodded; "Yeah." He looked confused for a minute; "I don't understand, Mum. Do you think Dumbledore knows he's a Death Eater? I mean, he's a _teacher._ He shouldn't be around _kids_."

Lily bit her lip, before she drew in a breath; "Things aren't always what they seem, Harry. I'm sure the Headmaster knows Professor Snape well. And clearly he trusts him."

"He chopped someone's hand off."

Lily did her best not to react.

Harry went on, frowningly, as if to himself; "He's the one that did the thing, the potion or the ritual or whatever; he's the one that brought him back."

Harry looked down, confusion written entirely over his face; "But…he helped me. And I think…I don't know. I've spent a lot of time with him. What with the lessons and everything. He didn't _seem_ like he was that bad."

"Harry –"

He looked at her, suddenly, looking curious; "You called him 'Severus'. You know him, don't you?"

Lily hesitated.

Then she nodded; "Yes. I do. We work together."

Harry just looked at her, blankly, like he knew that wasn't just it and that she was keeping something from him.

"And he served with me. In the Order," Lily said, realising there was no use in keeping that from him now; Severus would have to reveal it, if not her, and probably still would even after she explained but, at least this way, he'd hear it from both of them and may be more inclined to believe it was his side that they were on.

Looking at her son, the seeming hope that had lit up within his eyes at her statement, she realised that Harry _wanted_ to believe it; that Severus was one of theirs.

She sighed and nodded; "Yes. He's Dumbledore's. A spy."

Harry seemed to weigh the information, saying nothing, then he drew in a breath and nodded; "Okay."

"Okay?"

Harry looked at her and shrugged; "Well. I dunno. It makes sense, right? I thought he might be one – not a spy, a Death Eater – back at school. Malachi's dad, he was one. And Snape, he calls him 'the Dark Lord', like Mr Black does. It was obvious."

Harry paused, thinkingly, before he met her eyes; "He couldn't…he couldn't have just _fooled_ Dumbledore, right? He's really on our side?"

"I believe so."

"You believe so?" Harry repeated, with a frown; "That doesn't sound very promising."

Lily smiled; "I _really_ believe so."

Harry's lips twitched for a second and then he smiled, looking down.

"What happened?"

"He…They needed my blood. Snape came to…get it. And he told me the spell to escape, whispered it to me when he was close enough. It wasn't much; I didn't even realise what he was doing at the time. It's lucky I even figured it out, what it was he wanted me to do. He always wants me to _think,_ he never just tells me stuff."

Lily fought back another smile, warming at the familiar way in which he spoke about him.

"Well, maybe he just sees that you can."

"Or he wants to laugh at me when I don't."

"I doubt that's what he would have done."

"Well. Not this time, maybe. Because I would have been dead."

"I'm sure he would have found another way."

Harry looked at her, carefully; "What makes you so sure?"

Lily held his look and then she just smiled, looking away.

She couldn't tell him any more than she already had.

"You should get some sleep, Sweetheart."

Harry made no protest. Within a few more minutes he had pressed a kiss to her cheek and gone to his room, in the safety of their own home, and Lily should relax and be glad of it and go to sleep herself, but she simply couldn't, not now.

Still utterly _wired_ by all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

James' funeral.

Harry's kidnapping.

Waiting, helplessly, at the Ministry for any sign of her son's whereabouts.

Only now, that Harry and Grace were safe and tucked up in bed, did Lily allow herself the time to find and take comfort in the one and only _good_ thing that had happened that day. Or, rather, what she had learned.

That Severus was alive.

That he was _with_ them.

It was crazy that the thought offered comfort at all, but it did.

He was safe – as safe as he could be, considering the circumstances – and just as astute as ever, protecting and saving her son.

Perhaps, even, her, too, as she was entirely certain that the Death Eater whom had fallen in the middle of her torture could be attributed to Severus, concealed somewhere within the trees.

He had been watching over them from the shadows.

For now, Lily could only hope for one thing; that Severus' standing – and, as such, his life – would remain intact following the events of that night.

For, even if Severus' complicity in it all were not suspected, his master would still not be pleased.


	51. August/September 1994: Principles

The Dark Lord was livid.

Only minutes had he returned before all his plans had unravelled. His desire to eliminate the child which posed a threat – a rare chance finally offered, after months of waiting for the most protected child in the Wizard World to be so exposed and captured – all coming to nothing, due to the incompetence of one of his own, no less.

And, to top it all off, the entire ordeal had led not only to the boy's evasion once more, but also to the Dark Lord's exposure, himself, to the bloody damn _Ministry of Magic_!

It was a disaster of epic proportions, a failure, and they _all_ felt the brunt of it, even if the blame had been laid entirely at a dead man's feet; Rodolphus Lestrange.

Severus shuddered where he sat, the lingering effects of the Cruciatus making it difficult to remain still, even a day later. He had suffered, just as the rest of them, but, thus far, had received no special attention from his old Master.

Until now.

Lucius, pale and with a slight tremor, himself, had come to him some time before to inform him of it; that the Dark Lord wishes an audience with him, within the hour, and to prepare himself for the interrogation.

Those were not Lucius' exact words, of course, but Severus knew well enough what it was and, with the Dark Lord now in an utterly foul mood, he was quite certain the whole thing would prove to simply be an outlet for that fury, regardless of Severus' attempts at convincing him of his loyalty, believed or not.

Before long, he was stood before him, the first time alone together in the six years since he had fallen.

"Ah. Severus," the Dark Lord said by way of greeting, once Severus had completed the customary kiss of the hem and a kneel.

"My Lord."

"You have certainly done well for yourself, my artful friend."

Severus inclined his head; "Thank you, my Lord. Whatever I must to best serve our interests."

There was a low grumble, almost laughter, as close as it could be; "Our interests, you say."

There was scepticism, but Severus was prepared for that, holding his resolve; "As ever, my Lord."

The Dark Lord regarded him, closely, seeming to weigh him up, as if he weren't entirely convinced either way what he believed yet – thank Merlin for that – before he spoke, in a considering manner; "I must say this simpering is no longer quite so _fitting_ as it once was of you, Severus. You are no longer the eager boy who stood before me, oh-so-keen and willing to kneel."

Severus lowered his head further, in submission; "My Lord, I am as devoted as ever. If not, more so. Living amongst them, lying it wait, it has been trying, to say the least. But it shall prove worth it, in the end, to have gained Dumbledore's trust and the place by his side that I now offer up to your disposal."

The Dark Lord touched a finger to Severus' chin - startling him that he only just managed to stop himself from flinching - and tilted his head upwards so that Severus' eyes met those cold, red slits that were his master's.

"And how about our dear-soft-Regulus, Severus?" he looked at him, carefully, and Severus could feel that lightest flutter of legilliemency and carefully reigned in his barriers; "A traitor, the most offensive of all traitors, who lives and sneers at me behind the walls of his _Foundation;_ you dare align yourself with him once more?"

"My Lord –"

"Crucio!"

The pain was so sudden, so unexpected in that particular moment – though it shouldn't have been! – that Severus couldn't help but cry out, the already Cruciatus-wracked joints and bones and muscles of his body utterly unable to handle it, as he writhed on the ground at his master's feet.

It stopped as abruptly as it started.

Severus felt his breathing coming in pants, as his eyes refocused on the Dark Lord still above him, who simply regarded him as if nothing had even taken place.

Severus pushed himself back to his knees, careful not to look too weak and pathetic as he did so, even if he shuddered under the strain of just _moving._

"My Lord," he began, inwardly pleased that his voice still came out with conviction, despite the tremor of his limbs; "I do not align myself with him. Upon learning of your imminent revival, I sought to place myself in the most profitable position available to us; with my role as spy so secured within Dumbledore's ranks, it is only reasonable that I should use that to branch out further. It was not difficult to do so, considering my history with the man."

"Your very close history, Severus."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus conceded, humbly; "There was a friendship."

"The dearest of friends," the Dark Lord sneered; "Cast aside so easily by yourself, Severus."

"A traitor, as you said, to us all. To me. It is unforgivable, my Lord. No sooner could a place within my esteem be lost than by a demonstration of such faithlessness."

"Ah, but Severus, even a man as controlled as yourself is not immune to humanity's burdens; faith, hope, _love_." It was sneered, with distain, as he eyed him.

Severus didn't rise to it, uncertain if the Dark Lord was making jibes at his relationship with Regulus or if it was harking back to his previous desperation as he had pleaded for the life of Lily, another weakness he had so exposed to the dark wizard years before.

Most likely it was both.

"I can only stress the previous assertions that I gave when his deception was first revealed to us, some years ago. I admit that it was…dispiriting to learn of it and I sought to maintain my distance in the aftermath. But now, I see that there is more that can be done with it, if only I cast aside such pitiful deficiency as arises when one allows themselves to be subservient to their emotions. It is a foolish man's weakness."

The Dark Lord eyed him, closely, as Severus went on.

"My previous connection to him has proved beneficial; it was easily to convince him that I could be trusted. My position at Dumbledore's side only fortified this to him. Eyes within the walls of the Foundation, where so many high-ranking members of the Wizard World have connections, it can only be of value to us, my Lord. I will see to that."

There was silence.

And then the Dark Lord's mouth twitched, a twisted smile as his eyes widened; "There really is no end to your wiliness, Severus. It is a lonely life, is it not, when every relationship must be weighed by their value to you."

Severus wasn't sure if he was joking.

"My Lord –"

"I would have it no other way."

Severus pursed his lips together, saying nothing further, and simply waited, as the Dark Lord looked thoughtful, still considering the explanations, the words.

And then the eyes looked at him more closely, voice low; "Look at me."

Severus did so, right at him, without hesitation.

Within a second, his mind was invaded with a legilliemency attack more powerful than any that he had ever experienced that he cried out, once more, and he almost faltered, in that moment, and wondered and, perhaps, even, doubted himself; that he would be able to keep every deep dark secret that dwelled within it from the eyes of the Dark Lord before him.

Severus prayed, with all that was within him, that he could.

* * *

"Did you see him?"

Lily shook her head; "No. Just Harry."

Her eyes were not on him, rather gazing thoughtfully at nothing, as if she still hadn't made sense of all that her son had told her. Regulus figured it was rather a bit much, all that had happened, but he was glad to hear it; that Severus was just fine.

Though, to be honest, he never really doubted he would be.

"Well. Severus triumphs again! Though he obviously would."

Lily met his eyes at that, giving him a smile; "It's good that someone was so sure of it."

"Come on, it's Severus," Regulus said, by means of explanation, with a roll of the eyes; "He could smooth talk his way out of anything. This is a good thing. He needs to be there."

"I know."

Lily didn't sound all that convinced, even though he knew she was aware it was the truth. Regulus didn't envy her, having to sit back and wonder if the man she loved would be coming home this time, every time he left her side.

Regulus attempted to be reassuring; "He won't be there long, in any case, Hogwarts is back in session in a couple of weeks," which reminded him of other, less than pleasant developments that had arisen with regards to his son; "Thankfully. The sooner we get our boys back to that place, the better."

He said it but didn't _feel_ it. Sure, Malachi was safe while he was at Hogwarts _physically;_ but there were dangers just a rife, just as sinister, that lurked within those walls, those bloody dungeons, Regulus knew that all too well.

"What about the security measures here?" Lily asked, entirely unaware of his turn of thought; "With Harry back safe with us, Voldemort's going to start looking elsewhere."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, regarding her across the desk, and said, mildly; "You mean towards my demise? Well, I wouldn't worry about that, Dumbledore kindly enacted the same enchantments upon this place as those which guard Hogwarts. Grace will be quite safe here."

Lily got a smile at the direct mention; "Did she have you run riot?"

Regulus grinned and shook his head.

"On the contrary, she's the one who became fed up of _me_ after a time," they chuckled, before he went on; "She's like him, you know. Severus."

Lily's expression warmed, immediately, at the connection.

"I thought I was the only one who noticed."

"Lily, it's very obvious."

That wasn't exactly a good thing, both of them knew that, but Lily didn't seem concerned by his observation. She just shrugged.

"To you. Not to anyone else."

"Hm." Regulus wasn't convinced. That look, the piercing stare, the curious questions; it was endearing, obviously, and Regulus absolutely loved to have seen it. He had known Severus was Grace's father, obviously, but that was the first time he had really _seen_ it and it was quite disarming, in a way, to see his best friend reflected so much in the little girl.

But other than endearing, it was also unnervingly dangerous. There were others in the ranks who knew Severus, not as well as he did, no, but some could notice, some would recognise the expression of annoyance, at the very least.

Lucius, for starts.

Regulus pushed aside the thought because pointing all this out to Lily would only cause unnecessary worry and, frankly, that really wasn't what he and Lily did. Maybe, he'd mention it to Severus, but even that seemed rather unproductive. Severus would have considered all of this.

"Did you see the boys off?" Regulus changed the subject, as his thoughts turned in the direction of his own son, who had been whisked off to muggle London with Lily's werewolf friend.

"They're in the Research Centre," Lily stated, to his surprise.

"Oh. I thought Lupin was taking them for the day?"

Lily got a smile; "Harry said they were being joined by a girl, so they decided to just stay put."

"A girl?" Regulus felt himself becoming uneasy, rather certain who this mysterious 'girl' was.

"Greengrass, I think," Lily said, innocently, confirming his dreaded suspicions; "I remember the name, vaguely, from school."

"Ah. I can't believe they're at that age already."

"I know," Lily's smile widened; "Teenagers."

Regulus only smiled but it was forced because the last person he wanted his boy fooling around with was the daughter of Elijah-bloody-Greengrass; hell, what if he got the girl pregnant or something, he'd end up linked to the bastard for life.

Regulus quashed the ridiculous thought, reminding himself that Malachi was only thirteen, and wouldn't – or damn well better not be – thinking about _sex._ Though he supposed he better have a word about it, anyway, as he wasn't much older when _he_ started thinking about it.

Lily stood when the silence dragged, stating her intention to return to the Lab, and he nodded, giving her a smile; "Thanks for letting me in on it, anyway."

"Well. I know men like to put up a tough front and all, but I know you and Severus have a bit of a soft spot for one another."

Regulus chuckled, inclining his head in admittance, and she smiled widely, before turning to leave, leaving him with his thoughts.

He had the brief, irrational idea to head on down to the Research Centre and offer to take Malachi away for the day, himself, now that the plans with Lupin had fallen through. He quickly dismissed it. It wasn't like he could stop his son spending time with her, if he had truly taken a fancy to the girl, not without telling him why he didn't want him near her.

But then, the dozen or so Oracle Bulletin journals that had laid scattered at his feet the day before made him wonder if that was necessary and so, getting to his feet and striding from the room, Regulus uttered an excuse to his secretary that he was stepping out for a while.

Within minutes, Regulus was at home.

He really shouldn't do this.

Regulus didn't want to be one of _those_ parents.

The ones who snooped in their children's private bedrooms and stuck their noses in their business and imposed their own opinions on their impressionable minds, under the guise that they 'knew better' and it 'was for their own good'.

But this was.

It damn well was for Malachi's own good.

The better, although far-from-great, explanation for all of this was that his son just wanted to learn more about _him,_ his father, and what he had been and done, and that was why he was reading his articles and associating with the child of his now-despised-high school-best-friend.

The much more worrisome explanation was that Malachi, himself, was following the same path.

Regulus couldn't _not_ intervene, if that was the case.

With a reluctant sigh, he headed in the direction of Malachi's room, not hesitating or stopping in his steps, lest he develop a conscience and stop himself; he walked into it, with purpose, eyes immediately scanning the incredibly-tidy, for a thirteen-year old's, room, and saw nothing suspicious whatsoever. His son didn't even hang his House colours or banners on the walls, as most Hogwarts students did.

Regulus lifted his wand, uttering an incantation to reveal that which was hidden, and it did.

A hiding place; under the mattress of his son's bed.

Regulus drew in a breath, bracing himself, and walked towards it, reaching beneath the mattress, tugging out the hidden items beneath it.

* * *

"A spy?" Malachi repeated, dumbly.

"Yeah," Harry said, whisperingly, with a quick glance in the direction of the door, lest Daphne came back; "I mean, I guess it makes sense. We did think Snape was one of them, right?"

"Well, I guess. But that doesn't make him a spy. My dad isn't one," Malachi stated, though maybe that wasn't true. There was so much about his dad he didn't know.

Malachi went on; "Maybe he only helped you because you're…well, you."

"Me?"

"Well, he likes you, don't you think?"

"No," Harry denied it, immediately; "If anything he'd be glad to be rid of me."

Malachi fought a grin; "That's just Severus, Harry. He's a real stiff-upper lip. He's like that with me, too."

"He chopped someone's hand off!" Harry hissed, quietly, repeating the aspect of the ritual that seemed to bother him the most; "He's…I mean, I always thought he was scary but not _that_ scary."

Malachi fought back chuckles; "Are you worried he's going to chop you up and throw you in a potion if you annoy him, now?"

"This isn't funny, Malachi!"

Malachi burst into snickers.

"Don't you find this _crazy?"_ Harry went on, raising his voice only slightly to be heard over Malachi's amusement; "He's a teacher. He's your _Godfather_. He's a Death Eater!"

"Harry, you didn't care that my _dad_ was a Death Eater."

"Your dad isn't performing crazy-ass rituals to revive bloody Voldemort though, is he," Harry growled, looking agitated.

"If Severus is there I doubt he has a choice."

"He could have just killed him or something. Why bring him back _at all_?"

"What, you think Snape's evil now?" Malachi asked, looking at Harry, carefully.

Harry was upset, seemingly more about Snape being involved, rather than just the fact he'd had his own blood thrown into the potion and that their worst nightmare had finally been brought back to life.

"No. I…I don't know. I mean, I know he's on our side. But…"

But; Severus was more complicated than he or, even Malachi who knew him, could have imagined, even in their silliest of imaginations. Harry seemed to want to know everything about him, all of a sudden, all of the secrets which no way would Severus reveal. He probably didn't even want Harry to know _this._

"Maybe it's better not knowing everything," Malachi remarked, thinking of what he now knew about his dad, and he wondered if it would be better not to know his own father had been a Death Eater.

Harry shifted, agitatedly, but nothing more could be said because Daphne came back into the room then and sat down beside them.

"What are you two gossiping about?" she asked, when they immediately fell silent.

"Nothing," Harry said, immediately, looking annoyed at her presence but he quickly smothered it. He had scowled at Malachi when he'd told him Daphne was coming, that she'd invited herself to the occasion, and accused him of inviting her himself.

He hadn't!

If anything, he'd rather _not_ see Daphne, especially not around Harry, now that his friend was convinced he actually _liked_ her in a way more than a friend would. It was embarrassing.

"Did you get a chance to read those journals?" Daphne asked him, crossing her legs and putting down the pumpkin pasties she had gone to get them on the floor between them.

Harry reached over, lifting his and tucking in, already looking bored with the turn of conversation.

"The Witch Trial ones? Yeah," Malachi nodded.

The more Malachi read about the Statute of Secrecy, the history that had brought it about, the more he wanted to know. There was so much he _didn't_ know, it was crazy, and after spending the summer learning everything that he could get his hands upon – usually with Daphne's help – it was so obvious to him why his dad had joined Voldemort in the first place.

If Voldemort offered to abolish the Statute, and it wasn't advertised that he was actually an insane mass-murderer at the time, then who _wouldn't_ be on board with all that such a world promised.

The Wizarding World finally free from its current situation; forced to conceal its very existence from people, _muggles_ , who were so ignorant of the value of magic, so fearful of it, that they would kill them or lock them up or, even, _dissect_ them to try and learn the secret of it to take it for themselves.

And, because of that, _they_ had to hide; to protect their own lives.

Malachi struggled to see how that was any different to his own, personal circumstances, having to keep his own home concealed, unable to breathe a word of its location – literally, because of the Fidelius – to avoid being killed by Death Eaters and Voldemort, himself.

Everyone having to hide.

Malachi was so _sick_ of hiding.

A knock sounded on the door to the room, before the runner, Shaw, popped his head around it, eyes quickly settling on him; "Mr Black. Your father asks that you come to his office."

"What, now?"

"Immediately, he said."

Malachi frowned, getting to his feet, though his frown became a grin when he noticed the annoyed look Harry shot his way when he realised he was leaving him with Daphne. Malachi gave an innocent shrug, his grin only widening as he did so, before he headed from the Research Centre and down towards his dad's office.

He was there within a few minutes and within seconds of walking through the door, he wished he hadn't. His eyes quickly fell upon everything he had been reading, all he had kept hidden from his father all these months; the Oracle Bulletin journals, Daily Prophet articles, the letter he had torn from its pages with his dad's words at fourteen years old, journals of Elijah Greengrass that detailed the various minutes of their Club meetings, old moving photographs of him and his father together, books about the Statute, about Grindelwald, about the Witch Trials.

It was all there, lying on his father's desk, and said father was sitting in the chair opposite, staring at him with an entirely unreadable expression.

He noticed his dad looked a little paler than usual when he spoke, immediately, after Malachi pulled the door shut behind him; "What is all of this?"

Malachi glowered at the items, not meeting his dad's eyes; "You went into my room?"

"Yes."

Malachi looked at him at the bluntness, feeling his own irritation rise; "Wha… _why_? Dad, you can't…there's such a thing as _privacy,_ you know!"

"Why?" his dad was on his feet, the unreadable expression suddenly becoming very-readable, furious, even; "You're asking me why? As if all of _this –"_ he jabbed a finger at the scattered pile of journals; _"-_ isn't reason enough?"

"Well, you wouldn't have found it if you hadn't been looking for something," Malachi said, furious in turn, that his dad not only went into his room snooping but that he was also being such a bloody hypocrite about the whole thing. The whole reason Malachi found out about all of this in the first place was because of his dad!

"This is exactly what I was looking for, Son. I told you last Easter, if you had any questions about any of this stuff, you come to me."

Malachi rolled his eyes, looking away; "Like you'd tell me."

"Have I lied to you so far?"

Malachi met his eyes, reluctantly grounding out the answer; "No. Only because I hadn't asked, though. It's not like it's a normal question, is it?"

"Well what do you want to know, then?" his dad lifted a hand, a dramatic gesture to go on, that only irritated Malachi further.

"Nothing. I figured it out for myself. Why you joined them."

"I already told you why."

"Now I get it. _Really_ get it."

His dad shook his head, looking confused and frowning when he did; "What do you mean you 'really' get it; get _what_? Don't tell me you -"

"It makes so much sense," Malachi stated, figuring there was no point in hiding or denying anything now – his dad would never let up after finding all of this – so he just said it flat out; "We'd be better off if the Statute were gone."

His dad simply stared at him at the statement, seemingly struck dumb by it.

"Malachi –" the fury, the conviction in his dad's voice was suddenly gone, replaced by something that could only be described as _brokenness,_ but there was no going back now.

"What?" Malachi said, though his own tone softened in turn, and he indicated at the Bulletins; "You're the one that wrote all this stuff."

"When I was a boy," his dad ground out, flexing his jaw; "An idiot."

"I don't think you were an idiot. I think you were really smart."

"Well I wasn't!" his dad snapped, eyes flashing furiously once more; "I was spouting out the utter rubbish that my parents imposed on me as a child – the very things I have made sure _not_ to impose upon you."

"It's not rubbish, Dad," Malachi said, far more calmly than his _dad_ was making his arguments; "The Ministry, the Statute, all the crazy _laws_. It's stifling magic, it'll _ruin_ it soon enough. It's oppressive, it's isolationist, it's _wrong_!"

"Malachi –" his dad's voice was quiet again, eyebrows drawn together in a distressed frown.

"What, Dad?" Malachi persisted; "You don't believe this anymore? That it's wrong that we have to hide from them? That'd they'd round us up, start killing us again if they knew what we really were?"

"Listen –"

"The only reason they're not killing us is because they don't know."

"That's not –"

"Why should we have to change the way we live for them? Why should we be the ones hiding like cowards? _They're_ the ones that are afraid of _us!_ "

"Just stop."

"And how is this any different from what the Death Eaters are doing to us? To you and me? Making _us_ hide away all the time! They want to kill us to keep us quiet, to keep anyone who threatens _them_ under control. It's the same thing, something we have to fight against."

"No. No. No!" his dad was around the desk in seconds, suddenly right in front of him; "I won't hear this, Malachi, I won't!"

"Why not?" Malachi looked straight back at him, right into his dad's eyes with all the conviction he felt; "Isn't it the truth?"

His dad grabbed a handful of the first things that came to hand, Bulletin journals and Prophet pages scrunched up in his fist that he waved in front of him, between them; "This is nothing. These are just words, platitudes, complete and utter fantasy! There is no way this life could ever be had without chaos and bloodshed."

He threw them back to the desk as he turned away furiously, almost beginning a pace, making the items scatter and things fall to the floor, even as Malachi went on.

"Well maybe that's just how it has to be," Malachi shrugged, that was war, after all; "It's not great, obviously, but anything worth having is worth fighting for, right?"

"Would you listen to yourself!" his dad rounded on him and was, suddenly, right in his face, eyes wild, almost demented in a way that almost made Malachi lose his nerve; "Do you _know_ who you _sound_ like?"

"I'm not stupid, Dad," Malachi bit back, annoyed that his dad had gone from accusing him of being a Statute opposer to Voldemort supporter in the blink of an eye; "I'm not going to turn into some crazy-ass murderer over it!"

"Damn right you're bloody not!" his dad growled.

"You were willing to fight for this," Malachi indicated at the desk, at everything on it; " _You_ believed it all, I know you did. Look at all this stuff! What, suddenly you turn your back on everything you believe in; all your principles?"

His dad stared at him for a second, seeming dumbstruck by the words. Then he straightened, leaning back from him, releasing a low sound, a humourless laugh as he shook his head, in seeming disbelief.

"Don't talk to me about principles, Son. Not when it comes to this," his dad's eyes were dark, haunted – it was frightening to see, the sudden openness, the _anguish_ that Malachi had never, ever been allowed to glimpse.

His dad went on, speaking lowly; "There is no _honour_ in the persecution and _slaughter_ of people whose condition of birth makes them powerless against us. _None_. Protect the weak, it is the most _basic_ code of humanity, don't you ever forget that. And for all the faults with the Statute, the injustice, the unfairness, the _oppressiveness_ , it does that. It protects them. Because, hell, they need it."

Malachi could do nothing but stare back at him, feeling cowed by the look his father was giving him, the misery behind the eyes that should sparkle brightly at him, as they always did. It was like looking at an entirely different person. Someone Malachi didn't know.

"It only takes one person, Malachi; _one._ And no son of mine will _ever_ bow down to him, not as long as I live."

Malachi swallowed, digesting the words, the look, the pain, his eyes going to the things that littered his dad's desk and he frowned when he caught sight of the article that he had shown to Harry a few weeks before; the incident that just kept cropping up.

He looked at his dad; "What happened at Anchor Ridge?"

His dad froze.

"What?" It came out hoarse.

Malachi looked at him, carefully; "Anchor Ridge."

His dad stared at him. For a second, all the anguish, all the grief, it was right there but it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, before it was gone and it was replaced with a look so cold that Malachi felt it chill him to the bone.

"Out."

Malachi frowned, stunned at the reaction; "Dad –"

"Go."

Malachi held his dad's look for only a moment, it was all he possibly could beneath the utter iciness of his father's gaze, and he stepped away, averting his eyes, and he didn't look back at him as he hurried from the room.

* * *

"Do you _have_ to go back to school, Harry?"

Harry scrunched up his nose, making a show of sadness at the fact for his little sister; "I'm afraid so, Grace."

"Ugh!" Grace threw herself backwards onto the pillows, from where she knelt in the middle of his bed; "This _blows."_

Harry burst out laughing at the response, shaking his head and tossing the t-shirt he was folding down onto the bed next to the case he was packing.

He sat down next to her; "I'll be back soon. Christmas isn't that far away."

"It's ages," Grace said, eyes narrowing at him, not accepting the fact as any sort of reassurance.

"Well, you won't be stuck in the house anymore this time, at least," Harry pointed out; "You're starting school too, this month. Aren't you excited?"

Grace shrugged, as if she didn't want to admit it, lest she make less of her annoyance at his departure.

Harry grinned, ticking her side with one hand, making her giggle and squeal; "Come on, I know you are! You've been talking about it all summer."

"I want to come to _your_ school and get to see you every day, like Malachi does. How come I have to go to baby school?"

"It's not 'baby school', it's primary. You'll love it. It's the only one in the country, you know; it's a pretty big deal, a magic school for little kids. Before it opened I had to go to muggle school."

Grace scrunched up her nose at that; "No magic?"

"None."

Grace looked suitably unimpressed, eyeing the wand that lay on his side table, longingly; "Sounds rubbish."

Harry ruffled her hair and got back to his feet, to continue his packing, while Grace pushed back up to sit upright as she observed him.

"Daddy used to come and see me when you went back to school. Last time, he didn't come."

Harry looked at her, frowningly; "You don't see your Daddy anymore?"

Grace shook her head.

Harry felt bad for her, that her imagination was finally failing, her imaginary father no longer holding up his end of the deal; "Well, that's his loss, Grace."

"What does that mean?"

"That you're better off without him."

Grace looked down, sadly, her voice quiet; "I don't think I'm better without him."

Harry immediately felt guilty at his dismissive response, reaching out and giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze; "I only meant he must be missing you way more than you're missing him. You're super special."

Grace gave him a small smile.

"Daddy said that to me, too. And that he loves me more than pudding."

Harry smiled, liking the analogy; "Does he?"

Grace nodded, smilingly; "And he's really good at magic too, Harry. Sometimes, when Mummy's not looking, he lets me open and close the flowers in the kitchen just with my eyes. He said Mummy used to do that too, when she was little."

Harry looked at her curiously at the story.

"He said sometimes, wizards don't even _need_ to use wands. That the magic is just inside me. I've been trying to light the candles in the kitchen with my eyes, too; it's not working yet. But I think it might, soon."

Harry sat down next to her, utterly taken in by tales; "Is that all he does with you? Tell you about magic?"

Grace shook her head; "He reads me stories, too. And he taught me how to ride my bike out in the back garden."

She hesitated, then glanced in the direction of the door, and then she crawled up the bed and grabbed one of his pillows. Before he could stop her, she tugged at the end of it, and stuck a hand inside and Harry realised his pillow was ripped.

She pulled out a handful of feathers and put them down between them. She raised excited eyes to Harry's, her voice a whisper; "Look."

She stared at them.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then, as her gaze narrowed, her bottom lip becoming caught between her teeth in that way that she did when she focused intently, the feathers slowly started to rise.

Harry watched, eyes wide, as they lifted from the bedcovers, hovering in the air between them.

It didn't last long but Harry was more than a little impressed and Grace was utterly delighted with herself, shooting him a proud grin as they drifted back down to the bed.

"Your Daddy taught you that?"

"No. Not that. But he said that if I can focus on something really good, then I can make _anything_ happen, so I cut up your pillow to get the feathers and try it."

"Why did you cut up _my_ pillow?" Harry asked, lifting the offending item with a frown, wondering that he didn't notice it at all during his time at home.

"Because I use mine more than you use yours. And because you're my big brother and you're supposed to be nice to me."

"Letting you ruin my things is me being nice to you?"

"It's not ruined," Grace said, looking at it, carefully; "If you use a spell you can fix it."

"Magic isn't the answer to everything, Grace."

She shrugged, shooting him an innocent smile; "To this, it is."

Before Harry could say anything further there was a knock at the door, before it was pushed open and his Uncle Remus stuck his head around it. He shot them a grin; "Alright, you two?"

"Uncle Remus!" Grace was on the ground and hurrying to greet him in a flash.

Remus hoisted her up into his arms, giving her a hug and kiss, before balancing her on his hip; "Harry, we had better get going."

"Right."

Harry nodded, quickly getting to his feet and fastening the case; "Back to Hogwarts!"

"Boo!" came Grace's retort.

Remus and Harry laughed.

* * *

"All set?"

Regulus placed the duffle bag on the ground at their feet, between himself and his son, where they were stood just a few metres from where the carriages that would take Malachi up to Hogwarts waited.

Malachi looked at him, guardedly, and gave him a nod.

The area was bustling with the excitement of the commencement of the new school year, an anticipation Regulus remembered all too well, and there was playful chatter and hugging reunions and teenagers scampering towards the carriages, eager to claim their spots amongst them with their friends, and Regulus and Malachi had to dodge some of them as they brushed and bumped against them.

Regulus ignored the curious glances cast their way, ignored the smug looks, the sneering gazes of those who saw and recognised him as an adversary – the Blood Traitor – as well as the looks of awe and admiration of those who considered him an ally, and someone to be respected.

Regulus didn't care to consider himself as either, so he simply gave polite smiles to any he happened to make eye contact with, but his true attention was entirely for his son.

An uneasiness had settled over them in the aftermath of their confrontation, similar to the one that had lingered earlier in the year, when Malachi had first learned of what he had been and had been too afraid to just ask him about it.

Regulus was at a loss as to how to approach all of this, because shouting and demanding that his son just _listen_ had got him nowhere, and his attempts at shielding his son from all the horrors of the world – the truth about pureblood supremacy and the stigma facing the muggleborns and his own, dreadful, appalling crimes – all of it had been laid bare to his son, now, and the concealment of it all for all these years had done nothing to stop Malachi falling prey to it all.

It was almost as if this were his punishment, to be forced to watch his son walk the same path that he had taken as a child, helpless and unable to do or say anything to stop it.

Of course, the very fact that it was his _own blinking words_ that Malachi had been reading, from back then, that were corrupting his boy's thoughts, his utter innocence, was mortifying. And how was he supposed to argue with _that_?

It was the bitterest of ironies; the cruellest twist of fate, to watch one's child fall. To repeat the same mistakes.

No.

Regulus would not see it happen.

Malachi looked at him, hesitantly, before looking at the thestral-drawn carriages that awaited; "I, uh…I'll see you at Christmas, then, Dad."

His son made to reach down and grasp the bag between them, but Regulus stopped him with a hand to his arm, and Malachi looked at him, the guardedness giving way to uncertain warmth and Regulus tugged him close and hugged him tight; "If you need me, Malachi. For anything; you write me, you go to Severus, I'll be right there. Alright?"

He felt Malachi nod, and his son leaned in closer, pressing his face into his shoulder for a moment, before there was a quiet, almost barely audible whisper; "Love you, Dad."

There was such vulnerability there, as if Malachi feared it was not something he expected to hear back, that Regulus drew back to look at him, speaking assuredly; "I love you, too, Son."

Malachi blushed at the normally levelled volume, his cheeks flushing as his eyes glanced around at the other passing students, and Regulus chuckled.

Before anything further could be said between them, Harry suddenly appeared, bounding up to them with Remus Lupin a slight distance behind.

"Malachi!" Harry had his arm around his son's shoulders in a second, shooting a smile Regulus' way; "Hi, Mr Black."

"Hello Harry," Regulus said, unable to help smiling in return at the cocky, so Sirius-like way he had imposed himself upon them; "Well then, I suppose this leaves you in capable hands. You two be good this term. If you possibly can."

"The best, Sir," Harry said, while Malachi shot a grin in his direction, which suggested they would be nothing of the sort and Regulus thanked the deities that his son, at least, had Harry Potter in that place to keep him a little bit tethered to something _other_ than Slytherin and his Housemates.

"See you at Christmas," Regulus gave his son's hair a ruffle, before he stepped away, giving a polite nod in the direction of Remus Lupin, who still lingered – the boys' chaperone until they reached the safety of the Castle – and then headed on his way.

A heavy heart weighed upon him as he glanced back over his shoulder, watching as his son boarded one of the carriages, and he dreaded it, the moment his son would set foot back into that school, those dorms, once more.

* * *

Severus was late.

The Great Feast had already commenced, and Severus had missed Dumbledore's customary welcoming address, as well as this year's Sorting by the time he stepped into the Great Hall, striding down towards his spot at the top table without shame at his tardiness, and he ignored the various heads of students that turned to look in his direction as he made his way past.

Dumbledore watched him carefully, a customary twinkle in his eye, and Severus only inclined his head slightly in confirmation, which led to the ghost of a smile gracing the Headmaster's lips.

Severus took his seat.

As he did, his eyes unconsciously went in the direction of the Gryffindor table, and he immediately found himself looking directly into those familiar green eyes of Harry Potter.

Severus held his look, his own eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they simply regarded one another, the first time they had done so since the night two weeks before when Harry had escaped from the clutches of the Dark Lord once again. This time, of course, it had been with Severus' obvious assistance, which he had always been careful to conceal from the boy in the past.

The boy's gaze was not entirely trusting, certainly not that same relaxed warmth that he had offered up with a smile to him on the last day of term, but it wasn't distrust that was there either. In fact, it was almost impossible to read him, which was a happy change, considering how transparent the boy had always been, but Severus could see the utter bewilderment in the boy's expression if he looked closely enough.

Even without legilliemency.

Severus wondered – well, _knew -_ that he ought to prepare himself for a barrage of unanswerable questions the following Monday when he had scheduled their Occlumency lessons to resume.

Harry looked away when one of his friends, Granger, it seemed, spoke something to him and though Severus could see the boy begin to look back in his direction upon answering her, he averted his own gaze so as not to continue the stare out they had been engaged in.

Severus would face Harry soon enough.

The Feast was long and Severus was weary, desperate to just get it over and done with so he could make his report to Dumbledore and then, go to his chambers and simply be alone, take comfort in his pain-relieving potions – as he had utterly misjudged just _how_ furious the Dark Lord was going to be throughout his regrouping with the Circle and had underestimated how many he would actually have needed to take with him – and then crash out and sleep in a room not inhabited with the snoring, groaning, irritating company of his fellow Death Eaters.

"Severus. You look worn, my boy," Dumbledore said, warmly, when they were finally in his office a couple of hours – a couple of hours which felt like an eternity – later, and Severus leaned back in the unbelievably comfortable chair upon which he sat.

It was heavenly in comparison to recent accommodations.

"The Dark Lord was more displeased than I had anticipated considering the events which took place during my absence."

Indeed, Severus had expected either acceptance, with some 'interrogation' of course, or outright death. Not a two-week-long exercise of walking on eggshells, lest one of them _breathe_ wrongly in his presence and incur his wrath; a question they either did not know, or that the Dark Lord would not like the answer to, asked of anyone who happened to irritate him, and they were punished, accordingly, for such crimes.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, not seeming at all concerned by Harry's involvement in the resurrection; "Yes, Harry does have a knack for being in the right place at the right time."

"Quite the opposite, Albus, I assure you," Severus retorted with a glower.

"You handled the situation very well, Severus. I was impressed when I heard Harry's account of it all. Would you like some tea? Do. You look like you need it."

Severus made to protest but he wasn't all that opposed to the idea, so he only muttered it half-heartedly and within a few minutes Winky had served them a pot of tea and a plate of scones to enjoy as they continued their conversation.

"And how did you find your old master, otherwise? Was he receptive to your offer?"

"Receptive. Hm. There was the usual interrogation. He was convinced, as you see, for I sit here before you quite alive and well."

"And well, hm? Perhaps a visit with Poppy –"

"I have my stores, I do not need someone fussing over me the rest of the evening," Severus dismissed the suggestion before it was complete, pushing on with more pressing matters; "The Dark Lord had hoped to maintain a longer duration of secrecy following his revival. Obviously, Potter's involvement and subsequent escape has led to some difficulty in doing so, but he wishes to remain concealed for as long as possible for the time being. He and the other followers were in the process of relocating upon my departure; to where, I was not informed. The Dark Lord will contact me in due course or I have the ability to do so him, if I should have something particularly valuable to offer in the meantime. He has no intentions to begin a war, at the present time, though from what I gather Crouch is not so willing to let the opportunity slide."

Dumbledore nodded, knowingly; "Hm. Yes, Bartemius is keen to exercise a show of strength and nip this in the bud before things escalate. Indeed, if he could do so before it _were_ to become outright war, he would jump at the chance."

"Except there is no chance of that. There will be a war. It is just a matter of time. For now recruitment is the Dark Lord's main concern. As well as, of course, the elimination of his most significant rivals."

The rivals were obvious; the defector, Regulus, and the prophecy child, Harry.

"And in the meantime, you intend to carry on instructing Harry in the practice of occlumency?"

"Of course, Albus. Now that the Dark Lord is aware of the link between them, it is imperative that Potter is able to shut him out when needed."

"And how did Tom react upon learning of this connection?"

"He was as intrigued as you said he would be. Though not quite as displeased. In fact, I fear that the risk in revealing it to him may not pay off."

"It was only a matter of time before he learned of it; by informing him ourselves, he is now in the position where he must play into our hands."

"I know how the ploy is to work, Headmaster. I only say that Ha – Potter is not sufficiently skilled in occlumency that he will be able to control this link, if the Dark Lord should decide to put it to use."

Severus did not know why he was even bothering to argue the case as it was quite impossible that he should _not_ have informed the Dark Lord of the mind link, even if he wished to, as he was far too involved in the attempt to control it that when the dark wizard, inevitably, discovered it he would have to explain why he did not reveal it.

And there was no plausible explanation for him not to. Other than, of course, the fact that Severus dearly wanted to see the Dark Lord dead and gone.

"As far as we are aware, Harry –" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he said the name, making it clear he had picked up on Severus' slip "- is unable to enter Tom's mind at will. It is something quite unconsciously done. Though we should assume that times of great emotional responses may trigger it; so it is in Harry's best interests that he is not too provoked to any such reactions, so as to avoid the same thing happening in reverse."

Severus eyed him; "I shall try to control myself." He sipped his tea; "The Dark Lord seeks to use occlumency himself, to keep Potter from observing anything further."

"As expected."

"Yes," Severus lowered his cup to the saucer he held; "We can assume the next time the boy sees anything, that the Dark Lord has allowed it to slip through, willingly; an attempt to manipulate or lure the boy into another less-than-ideal circumstance."

"You'll see to it that Harry knows not to respond, then?"

"Is there a particular reason why you cannot?"

"Well. Severus, you see Harry far more often than I do, these days. And it seemed, during my conversation with him following his safe return, that he is not quite so immune to your teachings and wisdom. Indeed, he seemed more than a little keen to inform me of your role in his great escape."

"He needs to learn to keep his mouth shut."

"Another thing to add to your list, Severus?"

He scowled, shaking his head in exasperation as he took another sip, a longer one this time now that the liquid had suitably cooled; "Has there been any further progress with the horcrux hunt?"

"Only that Regulus continues to be certain that all that remains is one."

"Nagini is well protected. The Dark Lord does not trust her exposed; even amongst his own, he keeps her enshrouded."

"The time will come when the snake can be protected no more," Dumbledore stated, assuredly.

There was only silence, which stretched, following the statement. Severus was not privy to further information regarding the hunt; it was Regulus' task and only the most basic of information was shared with him.

He could not know everything, he who hung off the arm of the Dark Lord, after all.

Severus drew in a breath before taking another sip, his weariness increasing, and then placed the half-empty cup and saucer on the desk before him; "If that is all, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore inclined his head, regarding him warmly; "It is. Goodnight, Severus."

Severus only inclined his head in response, offering no verbal farewell, and got to his feet.

He had fully intended on heading to his chambers upon his departure from Dumbledore's office. Ready to down a pain-relieving potion, remove the clothing he wore and simply _collapse_ into his bed and sleep from now until classes resumed the following morning.

That was the intention.

But more than that tempting proposition, there was something else he would far rather be doing; somewhere else he would far rather be.

And he really should not – could not – go there.

But, even as he thought it, knew he should just go down to the dungeons, to his chambers, and lock himself away and push aside the longing, he found himself turning left at the end of the corridor instead of right and, within minutes, he was out on the grounds, treading those familiar steps he had taken every night that he could for the past few years, ever since Harry had joined him in that school.

He tread them, with an apparition beyond the gates and then a stride, a careful approach all the way to the garden and then into the shed of the Fidelius-protected home that he had sworn he could not go back to and, as he looked up at the window, he caught sight of that which would undo his resolve that he really only wanted to look. To catch a glimpse of them.

He had only meant to look, he told himself again, feebly – because he could not fool even himself into believing it were true – but then, he saw them there; the yellow flowers sitting upon the sill. It was an old sign, an old ritual of theirs, that signalled that it was safe for him to come home and it warmed him to realise that Lily still carried it out, even now, when she must be certain he would not.

But, this night, he did.

Severus was powerless to stop himself.

After these weeks, these months that had passed, he had to see her. He could not wait another moment.

It was oh-so-familiar and right as he stepped across the threshold into their home, his eyes glancing around and taking it all in, reminding himself of all he had left behind, and everything was exactly as he had left it, exactly as he remembered.

Severus released a breath he didn't know he was holding, the tension of the past weeks leaving him, and then he heard soft voices upstairs and he approached, making his way up the staircase, quietly as he could.

"How come I only get to go for half a day, Mummy? Harry goes to school for whole days and nights."

"It's just for the first week, Sweetheart," Lily said.

Their voices carried out into the hallway, even where Severus stood some feet away, having paused at the top of the landing to listen.

"And then I'll have sleepovers, too?"

"Not sleepovers, no. But whole days. Morning until tea time."

"And you'll be there too, won't you?"

"Yes, I will. I'll be right close by, and if you want to see me you just tell your teacher and I'll be there."

"What about Daddy? Can I ask to see Daddy?"

There was a quiet in the immediate aftermath of the question, the question which stung Severus right to his core, and he stepped forward then, ever so tempted to just go to his girls and take them in his arms.

He didn't. He managed to muster up _some_ restraint, at least, and he made a sharp turn, going into their room, instead – his and Lily's – to wait for her.

The voices continued, quiet murmurs from the room next door, and Severus muttered a silencing charm upon the room he waited in, so his and Lily's voices wouldn't carry through when they inevitably talked following Grace's night time ritual.

Lily took her time following her departure from Grace's room, walking on by the bedroom and heading into the bathroom – for a bath, it seemed – and Severus just waited, happy to wait _forever_ if it only meant he'd get to see her, and it was a while later before the door to the bedroom opened and she stepped inside, wrapped only in a towel.

She didn't notice him, the door clicking shut behind her, and she began to make her way towards the bed without a glance in his direction.

Severus caught her by the arm before she could step away; "Lily."

Lily gave a shriek that was almost comical, enough that Severus smiled, not releasing the hold her had of her when she tried to leap back, eyes wide.

"Sh. It's only me."

He said it by means of explanation and Lily's eyes widened further when she realised that, yes, it really was him who was standing there in front of her.

"Severus."

Her voice was a whisper and, for a moment, all she did was stare.

And then she stepped forward, hands going to the side of his neck and drawing him down, pressing her lips to his. It was something shared between them a million times by this point, but it was still as utterly delightful as it had been the first, particularly after all this time without, and Severus' hands immediately grasped her by the waist, returning the affection keenly, and all was right with the world for a moment.

Severus made to draw back, to explain, but Lily came with him, no inclination to let him go. She pressed herself closer, her lips only leaving his to allow her teeth access to nip and tease at the bottom one of his, before her mouth claimed his once more, tongue delving deep while her hands slipped into the folds of his robes. They trailed downwards, teasingly, to his stomach before they grasped a fistful of his shirt to tug it up and out of the waistband of his trousers.

Severus was surprised.

He had expected that Lily would want to talk.

Her hands slipped beneath the fabric of his shirt, palming the skin of his stomach, and his weariness was suddenly gone, as every nerve came alive within him at her touch, and he let his own hands slip behind from her waist to her lower back, trailing his fingertips further until they teased and brushed the ever-so-soft and warm flesh of her thighs beneath the edge of the towel she wore.

Lily moaned into his mouth, pressing herself closer still, and he was utterly _had_ by the sound, as he always was, no further convincing necessary.

His fingers, softly trailing the flesh suddenly gripped her, tight, as he bent slightly to hoist her up onto his waist and he drew back from their kiss only for his lips to go to her throat, the soft, ever-so-enticing hollow there, and a hand of hers came up to bury and grasp at his hair, encouragingly, as a soft sigh escaped her.

Severus took the invitation, more than willingly, putting his mouth to other, far more pleasing endeavours than communication.

After these past few weeks, Severus was utterly sick of talking.

* * *

"Well. That was a warm welcome."

A _very_ warm welcome.

Severus had to wait to catch his breath before he could say the words, his already beaten and battered body not at all prepared for what Lily had in store for him _that_ night.

Severus quickly became aware that Lily was not only pleased to see him, but incredibly pleased _with_ him – something to do with something her son must have said to her about his recent activities, no doubt – and she was determined that he would feel the true extent of that pleasure.

Her hands, her lips were merciless, making quick work of the clothing he wore, and when he was stripped bare before her they had set to work nipping and trailing and tasting and teasing, determined to pull a sigh, a groan, a hitch of breath and she relished each and every one that she did, the little vixen, until she had him utterly frenzied beneath her, his hands grasping for her, feverishly.

She batted them away, any attempts he made to return the pleasure, a hand pressing to his chest and pinning him down, as her mouth moved lower still, prolonging his torment – an entirely _other_ form of torment to what he had become accustomed to in recent weeks – and it was only when he was finally _gasping_ that she put him out of his misery and knelt astride him and, finally, strove for release of her own.

It took every ounce of strength he had to hold himself back until she did, pushing back against the hands that pinned his down to the mattress as his hips met her movements, until, _at last,_ she had shuddered above him with a breathy groan so erotic that it went straight to his groin and he followed suit, seeing stars as her name left his lips in a gasp, and they had simply collapsed in a breathless heap in the aftermath, where they now lay.

It was utterly sublime.

"I should go away more often."

"Oh, ho. You tickle me, Sir."

Severus grinned, moving his fingers against where they rested on her hip, doing just that and she giggled, pressing more closely into him and pressed another kiss to the side of his neck.

"Ugh. God, I missed you."

Severus tightened his hold and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.

They lay there like that for a while, simply basking in one another's company, and Severus relished the feel of soft, smooth skin beneath the fingertips that he trailed slowly up and down her back.

Eventually, he wondered if that was going to be it for the night, and Lily would simply drift off to sleep in his arms, postponing any conversation until the following day at the Foundation, but no.

She raised her head, meeting his eyes, her voice still a spent-induced murmur when she spoke; "Are you alright?"

"I survived. One of the surer indicators of success. It took a little convincing, but then the Dark Lord always has."

"I was more concerned with your well-being, rather than your standing."

"They go hand in hand, I'm afraid."

"I already knew you were there. I guessed he had been convinced."

"Dare I presume?"

"Harry."

"Of course. Motor mouth strikes again."

Severus needed to get on that, promptly, lest half the population of Hogwarts learn the truth of what happened that night.

_Honestly._

"He told me you helped him," Lily said, unnecessarily, as it was obvious and no doubt the reason for this most-pleasing greeting.

"You are not the only one he told," Severus stated, tucking a hand behind his head and raising himself slightly to look at her; "Harry needs to get his verbal runs under control; ideally, he ought to have taken credit for the escape himself. However implausible the idea may have been. Did he at least restrain himself enough to withhold it from Crouch?"

"Personally, yes. Though one of the aurors may have told him by now."

"Then, I am now linked with the Dark Lord's return. Fantastic."

"Dumbledore would have a word with Crouch if need be."

"I am Dumbledore's spy, not the Ministry's, and Crouch is not quite as under his thumb as another, weaker Minister might have been; nor do I expect that he would be quite as forgiving as Bagnold for my role in all of this. Crouch did not agree with me evading trial the first time around."

"Crouch wants to fight fire with fire; a spy at Voldemort's side does that."

"I have very little useful information at present. Certainly, none that would placate the man who is even more desperate for war than the Dark Lord, himself."

Lily didn't ask what the information was. She knew not to. Instead, she just leaned in, pressing her lips to his chest and laying her head back down upon it.

"I told Harry," she said, after a moment.

Severus tensed.

"Told Harry what?"

"Why you helped him."

"Lily. There are many reasons you could have offered up in that respect."

Lily drew back to meet his eyes; "I told him that you're Dumbledore's. An Order member."

Severus glanced away, drawing in a breath; "Too much."

"He's going to see you with us, the Order will reconvene within the month, Dumbledore said so."

"And Dumbledore is in the mind of recruiting fourteen-year-olds? Harry could not possibly see me there."

"He would figure it out, either way. He already _knew,_ how could he not after all he had seen that night? And the last thing we need is Harry running around asking questions of others to try to make sense of it all, when the conclusion was so inevitable."

"You think this is going to stop Harry asking questions?" Severus scoffed; "That'll be the day."

"I only told him what you're going to have to. How can his occlumency lessons with you be in any way successful if he doubts your motivations? He needs to know he can trust you."

"Trust me?" Severus repeated, the concept utterly foreign to him, as, quite frankly, he could count on one hand – less even – the number of people who could actually trust him to be honest with them.

"Yes, trust you," Lily repeated, as if she heard his thoughts; "He needs to know you're on this side of it all. There was no other way, after what happened."

Severus flexed his jaw, knowing it were true; "It was unavoidable, I suppose," he conceded, before he went on; "Those his capture was not. How did that come about?"

"Oh. He…"

Lily seemed to be trying to think up an excuse on her son's behalf.

Severus offered up for her; "Broke another rule?"

"Aren't we all rule breakers?"

"He needs to be more careful."

Lily looked at him for a second, before laying her head back down upon him.

"It was during James' funeral," Lily said, addressing the demise of Potter for the first time, which Severus had heard mutterings of during his time away.

"Ah." Severus offered by means of understanding.

"I think it all became too much for him," Lily went on, so that he was not put in the uncomfortable position of having to actually address the issue of Potter, himself; "Harry was confused. He struggled with it. I don't think he really grieved what happened; I don't think he felt that he _could_."

Severus nodded slowly, before he looked down at the top of her head, where it still rested upon his chest; "And you?"

There was a silence.

Lily raised her head, meeting his eyes.

Severus tilted his chin to look at her more closely; "Are _you_ alright?"

Lily's lips quirked, and she drew up a hand, to tuck beneath her chin where it rested on his sternum; "I am now. The summer was long and hot and utterly shite."

Severus smirked, and she chuckled, before her eyes softened and she spoke sincerely; "I'm so glad you're here."

Severus nodded, eyes glancing around the room; "Yes. It seems it is not only Harry who is at the mercy of his emotions these days."

"I'm glad you caved in to yours. At least this once."

"Likewise."

His eyes went towards the further wall, the one that separated this one from that of his daughter's; "I heard Grace, earlier."

Lily met his eyes, a tinge of regret in them at the mention, but she quickly covered it up; "She's very excited, her first day at the Learning Centre is this Monday. Can you believe it?"

Severus smiled; "How has she been?"

"Amazing. Learning something new every day. Asking the craziest questions. Telling the craziest stores. She was delighted to have her brother home for the summer, as always."

"She still asks for me."

Lily's smile faltered, turning compassionate to his plight, and she nodded; "Yes. She always will, Severus. She's too smart to allow herself to let it go, to forget."

Severus glanced away, speaking the truth even if he couldn't quite force himself to wish that she would; "It would be better for her, that she did. For both of you. There would be less confusion that way."

"And then, what, when you do finally come home?" Lily countered, optimistically, as if such an outcome were a given.

Severus didn't answer, just brushed the hair that had fallen over her shoulder aside and touched his lips to the dip where it met her neck, lingering there.

Lily touched her forehead to the side of his, her tone dropping once more to a murmur as she asked, with hope in her voice; "Are you staying here tonight?"

"I shall linger. Long enough for you to fall asleep."

"Then I'll just have to stave it off a little longer."

Severus smiled, not protesting the statement, and leaned back, drawing her back to lie within his arms. The two of them content to just lay there in the quiet, in the dark.

Severus did as he said, remaining there with her until her breathing even out with sleep, only then slipping carefully from their bed and back out into the darkness of the night.


	52. September 1994: Resistance

The first day of term was a Friday.

Saturday was to be the first Hogsmeade visit of the year.

Harry, for the first time, had actually been granted permission to go - so long as his Uncle Remus was with him at all times – and Malachi had been granted the same approval.

Of course, even with it being a Friday and all the student abuzz with the upcoming visit, the school took no pity on it's students and Dumbledore had declared that classes would go ahead and begin as usual on the Friday.

First up for Harry; double Potions.

Fantastic.

Harry couldn't quite be unhappy by the fact, even if his mind was still reeling in the aftermath of what had happened the last time he had set eyes upon the Potions Professor.

He didn't know why he even _cared_ what Snape was and had been and what he was doing now; a spy, someone who brushed shoulders with bloody Voldemort and all his insane followers, who all wanted him dead.

It wasn't as if Snape owed him anything.

And it wasn't as if Harry even liked Snape.

But still, as Harry stepped into the Potions classroom for the millionth time in his life, Hermione and Ron bickering behind him as they followed, his brained warred between two entirely opposing wishes.

The first, that he was so freaked out by the side of the Potions Professor that he saw that night, that he wanted to _run._

And the other, that was almost desperate to see him and talk to him again, to weigh him up and try to make sense of it all, now that Harry knew what he knew.

Harry sat at the desk at front of the classroom.

"Harry, are you mad?" Ron asked, when he took note of the chosen desk; "We can't sit here!"

"I'd be quite happy to sit at the front of the class," Hermione remarked, earning a glare from Ron.

"Just sit, Ron," Harry said, pulling out the stool beside him, and Ron sat down next to him with a look of horror in the direction of the desk, only a few metres away, while Hermione took a seat at the desk to their right.

Snape swept into the classroom less than a minute later and Harry noticed the way his eyes glanced over them, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, at the placement of the three of them at the front of the room.

Other than that, Snape ignored Harry completely, beginning the lesson with his usual formal address, and Harry simply stared at him, unabashedly, as he did.

" – unless any of you are particularly keen to miss out on this weekend's Hogsmeade festivities, I urge you all to handle said ingredients _carefully_ while brewing your Elixirs, lest you blow up the entire classroom with your mishandling. The dragons scales _must_ be added prior to root of hemlock. Anyone foolish enough to do otherwise will spend the entirety of tomorrow's daylight hours scrubbing cauldrons."

With that Snape turned from them all in dismissal, so they may begin, and Harry set off to gather the necessary potions ingredients from the store cupboard.

Snape was more aloof than ever, as the lesson progressed, and didn't make eye contact with Harry, not even once, directing the small amount of commentary regarding their potion to Ron when he did happen to pass by them.

" _Dragon_ scales, Weasley, not lizard."

Harry had brought the wrong ones, intentionally, in the vain hope it might inspire a sparring exchange between the two of them, but following his words to Ron, he merely swept on by, eyeing Hermione's potion and saying nothing.

Snape came nowhere near them for the rest of the lesson and Harry felt himself grow increasingly frustrated by his lack of acknowledgement of his presence. Snape was acting as if Harry didn't even exist! No exchanged glances, or scoldings when he and Ron allowed their voices to rise slightly higher than appropriate as they discussed the next steps, no odd looks sent his way when he thought Harry wasn't looking that, Harry realised, were so frequent in the past that they had become commonplace to him.

This was infuriating.

Snape was simply ignoring him and everything that had happened a few weeks ago.

And Harry would not be ignored.

Nor was he going to wait until Monday, the whole weekend, to finally find out what the hell it was all about, what had happened that night.

Harry clutched the root of hemlock in his hand, casting a look Ron's way and speaking quietly; "You mind going to the store cupboard for the dragon scales, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, slipping off his stool, and heading in the direction Harry said.

Harry glanced in Snape's direction, who was simply walking slowly between the desks at the back of the room, looking bored.

Harry drew in a breath. He had really wanted to go to Hogsmeade with Malachi that weekend. But, he realised, not more than he wanted to get answers about Voldemort from Snape. Leaning back as he did, face already scrunched up in anticipation of what would happen next, Harry reached his hand forward, dropping the root of hemlock into his cauldron.

For a second, nothing happened.

And then, Harry was suddenly thrown backwards onto the desk behind him as the cauldron and all the liquid inside it erupted with a deafening ' _BOOM'_ that echoed throughout the classroom and evoked screams of terror from all the stupid girls within it.

"Potter!"

Snape was at his side in an instant.

He did not look amused, even as his eyes swept over him – checking for injuries or for visible evidence of his utter idiocy, Harry wasn't sure – and the Potions Professor's gaze quickly hardened, eyes narrowing suspiciously when Harry looked back up at him, in what he hoped was innocence.

His vision blurred and then Harry saw his actions, what he had just done, a few seconds ago flitter past his eyes for only a second.

Snape clenched his jaw, looking at him murderously, as Harry's vision cleared.

"You've just bought yourself detention, Mr Potter."

Snape swept away from him, voice clipped when he spoke without turning; "Seven am. Clean up this mess."

Harry watched after him for a second.

And then he grinned.

* * *

It was only the first day of term and what a day it had been, already!

Potter. He always had to make everything so bloody _dramatic._

Severus had eagerly left the walls of Hogwarts before lunch, keen to get to the Foundation, where he hoped he could just sit down in peace.

Such wishes were not to be.

Regulus' welcome certainly lacked the same warmth and delight that Lily's did, which was obviously to be expected.

What Severus _hadn't_ expected was to find him completely beside himself in his office when he had finally made it to the Foundation that afternoon, unhinged in a manner that Regulus rarely – if ever – let himself be seen.

A pile of Oracle Bulletin journals and Daily Prophet clippings were waiting on his desk, upon Severus' arrival, along with Regulus himself and he quickly related to him details of a furious argument that had erupted between himself and Malachi in his absence.

Severus' attempts to placate him were not going well.

"How could you not know this was going on? In your own House!"

Severus lifted his eyes heavenward; "I cannot stop the boy from _thinking_ , Regulus, thus far that is all that he is doing."

"You should have seen the way he looked at me, Severus. The things he said. It was like looking in a damn mirror; back at that stupid boy I was back then!"

Severus was finding it almost dizzying, as he turned on the spot where he was stood once again, trying to maintain eye contact as Regulus paced the floor of his office.

"It is hardly a unique viewpoint, to oppose the Statute of Secrecy," Severus stated, attempting to reason with him; "Of all the influences Malachi is exposed to within his House – the Dark Arts, the muggle prejudices – this is the least damning. It is only politics, Regulus."

"There is nothing 'only' about it. It is exactly this sort of thinking that got to me, Severus!" Regulus snapped, shaking his head, and indicating at the things on his desk; "This, all of this!"

Regulus snatched up one of the parchments, one that appeared to have been torn from its binding and folded and unfolded, multiple times, reading from it aloud; "It is an abomination that we, the superior race, must conceal ourselves behind our own magic to protect ourselves from persecution and execution by those who are, undoubtedly, inferior."

Severus frowned, reaching out a hand for it; "I do not believe I am familiar with the text." Regulus handed it over as he asked; "Who wrote it?"

"I wrote it!"

Severus glanced at him, pushing aside any amusement that threatened to rise at the irony, before skimming the remainder of the text as Regulus went on.

"Thinking I was so damn clever sitting in my room, waxing poetics about wizarding utopia and pureblood supremacy."

"You are overreacting," Severus stated, assuredly, as he refolded the parchment he had been given, tossing it back onto the desk; "There is nothing at all in this text – in any of these writings, I am certain – that advocate the methods of the Dark Lord or his followers."

"That's not the point!"

"That is the very point," Severus said, going around the desk to take a seat, where he could more easily keep his eyes on Regulus rather than his constant twisting and turning in the middle of the room; "Regulus, do you really think Malachi would join the _ranks_? Have you met your son? He would not raise his wand to a moth, nevermind a muggle."

"Neither would I have, Severus," Regulus said, his voice quietening somewhat, as it always did when the conversation tread too close to things done in times past; "Not until I was convinced it was something that had to be done."

"It is not the same circumstances," Severus said, in his attempt to placate him; "You are forgetting how it was back then. The Dark Lord's Circle was a mystery, a shroud of intrigue and exclusivity that made it all the more appealing, the true nature of his dealings were not laid bare to the world at all, certainly not in the way that they are now. If Malachi truly is becoming sympathetic to the plight of those who oppose the Statute – even the Grindelwald sympathisers – he is not going to confuse _that_ mindset with becoming a follower of the Dark Lord. The very wizard whom he has been running from since he was six years old."

"Don't speak logic to me, you're only pissing me off even more," Regulus growled, turning away; "I know what I saw when I looked at him. You did not hear the things he said to me."

"Regulus –"

"He threw Anchor Ridge in my face, Severus."

There was a silence in the immediate aftermath of the statement.

Severus drew in a breath, looking at him carefully; "What happened?"

"He asked me about it," Regulus said, eyes getting that haunted look that Severus had often caught glimpses of; "He asked me what happened there."

Severus sighed, shaking his head; "That is hardly throwing it in your face. I assume you overreacted?"

"No," Regulus said, before glancing away with a dark look; "I simply told him to leave before I did."

"Regulus."

"What?"

"Did you consider that if you were to tell him the truth of it, it may just have the effect of nipping all of this rebellion in the bud before it even begins?" Severus said, even as Regulus immediately shook his head at the very notion; "Not to mention that nothing would deter him more from turning to the Dark Lord, than hearing the story of what happened that day."

"The only purpose that would serve, would be to inform him what a pompous, arrogant fool he has for a father."

"On the contrary, it may reveal the opposite. It certainly did me."

Regulus met his eyes.

It was the truth, for both of them. For it was only after the events of Anchor Ridge that the two of _them_ had stopped eyeing one another with disdain.

"I'm not telling him that," Regulus said, even if his voice softened ever so slightly in recognition of the recollection; "I won't."

"You think the things he's been reading in the Prophet are any better?"

"I don't give a damn what the bloody Prophet says about it," Regulus growled, turning away.

"Nonsense. It is far worse, the spiel they cast out."

Regulus turned warning eyes his way; "You swore to me you'd never speak of it, Severus."

"And so, I won't. But you ought to. To your son. He, at least, deserves to know the truth of it, lest he hear another version of it from somewhere else."

"He already has."

Severus cleared his throat, straightening in his chair, for he could put off what he had to say no longer. He had hoped to address it when Regulus was calm, or even at least acting rationally, but the moment was here, now, and he couldn't just brush it aside to bring up at a later time in light of the current conversation.

"On which note, I do have something further to add to the current discussion."

Regulus looked at him, the distressed look in his eyes giving way to curiosity, as Severus went on. Reluctantly.

"It regards the article that was left for Malachi – among a number more that I'm guessing he never reported to you – the one that led to his discovery of your trial; it was not his housemates who were responsible for it."

Regulus frowned; "Who was it, then?"

"Pettigrew."

A heavy silence fell upon them, as the magnitude of the revelation sunk in.

Severus spoke again, first, while Regulus' mind continued to, not doubt, spiral, wildly; "Indeed, it seems a number of items were left for him to find, no doubt with the intention of setting him off on this witch hunt as he seems now to be engaged in."

"On the Dark Lord's orders."

"Yes. Lucius informed me of it."

Regulus had paled, as he attempted to digest the new information.

"It is the Dark Lord's style," Severus said, when Regulus' silence stretched; "You and I both know how he enjoys toying with his adversaries prior to their elimination."

"My son, Severus!"

"With Pettigrew gone –"

"He'll find another way. Those kids in that House, doing their parents bidding –"

"Now that I know, I can protect him from it."

"Protect him? How?" Regulus snapped; "These are orders _directly_ from the Dark Lord, you can't intervene, not without him knowing you are doing so, and then what? You can't protect him. And even if you could, it's too late for that! I've lost him already!"

"You have not lost anyone, Regulus."

"He is lying to me, keeping secrets, sneaking around, associating with that girl –"

"What girl?"

" _Greengrass_."

Severus pursed his lips together.

Of course.

Severus raised an eyebrow; "I think you and I both know better than to hold a child responsible for the mistakes of their father."

"She sounds like a right little snake, she does."

"She is an amiable girl, I have taught her for years. I doubt her intention is to corrupt Malachi. In fact, Elijah Greengrass was a rather vocal opposer of the Dark Lord, if I recall correctly."

Regulus glowered at him; " _If you recall correctly_. As if you don't remember."

"On the contrary, I paid little attention to the dramatics that went on amongst the youngsters of our House at the time."

Regulus' eyes flashed, making to speak.

"In any case, he would not have his daughter do the Dark Lord's bidding," Severus said, before he could, dodging the bullet; "She has probably just taken a liking to him. They are at that age."

"Well, _someone_ will be doing his bidding, even if not the Greengrass girl. So how do I stop it? What do I do?"

"What you've been doing. He is not lost, Regulus, not even close. I have seen him, he is kind and good –"

"And alone," Regulus said, shaking his head, and his eyes glimmered, now; "He's alone, in that place, with those people. People who are coming after him, to get to me."

"Regulus."

Regulus shook his head, holding up a hand, and speaking with sudden conviction.

"I want him out of that House."

"Regulus –"

"I want him out of that House," Regulus repeated his statement; "Put him in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, hell, put him in bloody _Gryffindor_ if you have to, just get him out of there, Severus!"

"I don't think Dumbledore would agree to –"

"I don't give a bloody damn about what Dumbledore thinks about it! Get Malachi out of Slytherin, or he's not going back. Or _I'm_ not going back. You tell Dumbledore that, you tell him I'm out. He gets my son out of there or I'm done."

Severus simply looked at him for a moment, at the haunted, broken but utterly certain eyes of his friend and he knew it was pointless to try to convince Regulus otherwise.

With a nod, Severus conceded.

"Leave it with me, Regulus."

* * *

"Gryffindor?"

Malachi was gobsmacked.

And utterly mortified.

He was being sent to go and live with the _Gryffindors?_

"Indeed. I felt that, upon assessment of the situation regarding your difficulties with your current housemates, a change was necessary. We would not want your academics to suffer due to these 'pranks' that you call them, nor is it acceptable for you to continue to suffer them in silence."

"So, it's Gryffindor to the rescue," Malachi said, aware of the biting sarcasm and unable to reign it in.

Severus – Professor Snape – lifted his chin slightly at his response but said nothing.

Malachi forced down his upset, not wanting to whimper or plead with him, but absolutely knowing that there was no way in hell he was going to go crawling to the bloody Gryffindors for refuge from his own Housemates, when the people in that house despised him just as much as they did; at least the Slytherins had a _reason_ to dislike him, his dad. The Gryffindors didn't like him just because the Hat had sorted him there in the first place.

Malachi swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady; "Are you kicking me out?"

Professor Snape's eyes softened; "Of course not, Malachi. You are always welcome in my House. It is just my opinion that –"

"Good. Then I'm staying."

"Ah. I must say that I am surprised. Is your closest friend not a member of Gryffindor House?"

"I'm not his sidekick," Malachi growled; "We get on just fine in different Houses. And his Housemates are dicks."

"Language, Mr Black."

"Yeah, right. You think exactly the same, you're always pushing us to do our best in here 'lest we be humiliatingly defeated by Gryffindors once more'; I'm not going there."

"Malachi, this is not a punishment," Professor Snape – or Severus, rather, because he seemed to have adopted Godfather mode in his attempt to get rid of him – said, trying to reason with him; "It is true that I have often used the rivalry between the Houses in order to encourage members of our own to strive to be the best that they can be; but the Gryffindor House is a worthy opponent. They have many estimable virtues."

"Such as?"

Severus hesitated.

Malachi snorted; "You can't even think of any."

Severus' lips twitched; "There is loyalty."

"There's loyalty here."

"Indeed? You feel that your own Housemates have your back?"

"They would if someone from another House came after me. We look after our own. And I'm not a complete loser, you know. I have _some_ friends here."

"Malachi –"

"This isn't about my Housemates," Malachi said, eyes narrowing; "This is about my dad. He talked to you."

Severus' lips pursed at the accusation.

Malachi felt himself bristle under the threat of being expelled from his House over all of this; "It's not a crime to read, you know. And it's not like no one else in Slytherin haven't been looking at all of the same stuff. I don't see any of them being thrown to the lions."

Severus said nothing but Malachi thought he saw his lips twitch a little, as if he were amused, but Malachi couldn't even enjoy it because he was getting so angry, so very quickly, at what he realised was happening.

Malachi scowled, looking away; "He's acting totally crazy."

"Your father always has your best interests at heart," Severus said, leaning back in his chair; "It is normal for a parent to be concerned for his child."

"He thinks I want to be a Death Eater."

Severus simply stared at him.

Malachi shrugged, looking at him expectantly; "Doesn't he?"

"It is not a case of him believing you _want_ that, Malachi. There are certain influences within the world, in this House in particular, that have less-than-appealing connections to circumstances which have arisen in the past –"

"My dad thinks because he was stupid enough to join Voldemort that I'm going to as well."

Severus shook his head, eyes closing; "Malachi. Watch your tone."

"Are you my Godfather or my teacher?" Malachi shot back; "Why won't either of you just listen to me?"

" _Both_ positions command respect. And I have always made it clear to you that I am available should you need it. Try putting across your point of view _without_ the delightful dramatics that come with being a teenage boy, if you will."

"I'm not going to Gryffindor, they hate me there. If Dumbledore tried to make you _their_ Head of House instead of ours, wouldn't you be angry? They're totally different from us. I'd rather be a Hufflepuff!"

"In that case, I could have a word with –"

"Please, Sir," Malachi shook his head, his voice finally taking on the pleading tone he'd be trying to avoid; "I'm a Slytherin."

Severus regarded him carefully.

Malachi willed it with all his might, that Severus would let him stay. He'd never asked his Godfather for _anything_ , he had to give him this.

Surely Severus wouldn't _make_ him leave. He was finally finding a place in his House, he finally had some friends other than just Harry, and he had finally found something he was actually interested in and he knew he wouldn't find any Gryffindors who agreed with what he thought about the Statute.

All they cared about was Quidditch and posturing and strutting about the corridors, flaunting their red and yellow sweatshirts as if they were cloaked in gold.

Except Harry, obviously.

Most likely, Draco and Daphne would want nothing to do with him after that happened and he'd become known as only Harry's sad, friendless sidekick who everyone was forced to put up with just because he said so.

After a moment, Severus drew in a breath and gave him a single nod – to Malachi's utter relief – and then he reached for a binder that Malachi realised had his name on it. He frowned when Severus opened it up, noticing various parchments held within it, realising that he had already prepared it to hand over to his – thankfully no longer – new Head of House.

Severus plucked his timetable out from it, placing it between them, and snapped the binder shut before returning it to the corner of the desk.

"I see you have selected Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as your electives."

"Oh, um…yeah," Malachi shrugged, taken aback by the sudden change of both tone and subject, 'Professor Snape' suddenly back in the room.

"Rather odd choice, Runes, considering where your passions truly lie."

"My passions, Sir?"

"History. Politics."

"Oh. Well, I already take History of Magic. And Politics wasn't an option."

"Hm," Severus nodded, pulling open a drawer from beneath his desk; "Sometimes it is necessary to look beyond what we expect to see in order to find what we are looking for."

Malachi shrugged; "History of Magic is okay, I guess. It's really stuff I look up on my own that I like to read though. Professor Binns he's…uh…he's not exactly the most engaging of teachers. I don't think he even really likes it; it's like he's been cursed to teach it, even in death."

Severus lifted hand to his mouth, smothering a smile with it.

Malachi grinned, pleased that he'd managed to amuse Severus even in Professor mode.

"In any case, it seems that your interest, in both History and Politics, tends to lean in a more focused direction. Tilting rather in the direction of the Statute of Secrecy and Muggle Relations."

Malachi wasn't sure if he should answer, considering their more recent topic of conversation.

Severus placed another piece of parchment on the desk in front of them, pushing it in Malachi's direction, and he noticed it was the Elective Selection booklet they had been given to take home for the summer, in order to make their selections.

"There is an element of both History and Politics within the Muggle Studies course. The Witch Trials are touched upon, in the more advanced lessons, albeit not to the degree your level of interest would be quenched by. But then, that could be said about many aspects of the Hogwarts curriculum. As well as the Statute, of course, and many other aspects of current Wizard-Muggle relations."

Malachi stared at him, almost dumbstruck by what he realised Severus was trying to say.

"Muggle Studies?" he repeated.

Severus only returned his look, seriously.

"Is that even an option for Slytherin students?"

"All classes are an option, Mr Black," Severus said, leaning back in his chair; "I suppose it goes without saying that Muggle Studies is not considered a high demand subject within our House but should a student wish for a placement it is my duty as your Head of House to make it happen."

"You're actually serious."

"Have you ever known me to be anything but?"

"Well…no, but…" Malachi was flabbergasted, still not entirely convinced that Severus wasn't joking. He could only just imagine the reactions of his housemates if he were to actually enrol on the _Muggle Studies_ course.

"Um…How long have you been Head of Slytherin?"

"Since the year you were born."

"And have any Slytherin students ever asked you to do it before?"

"No."

Obviously.

Malachi gave a humourless smile, glancing around the office; "Yeah," he began, before he crossed his arms, looking at Severus sceptically; "Well…You see, I've kind of been trying _not_ to stand out a bit. What with my dad and everything. So, I really don't think taking Muggle Studies would help, Sir."

Severus regarded him carefully, raising an eyebrow when he spoke; "Stand back or stand out, neither will change your circumstances, Malachi. I remember it well, myself, how it is to be considered…lesser than your housemates."

Malachi frowned, immediately intrigued; "Why would they think you're lesser than them?"

"Because of my father. A muggle."

Malachi could only stare back at his Godfather, shocked at the admission. Malachi had always just assumed Severus was a pureblood.

"Oh."

A silence fell over them both, as if Severus had just revealed something extremely taboo and, Malachi realised, maybe amongst his own housemates it would be; "But…The Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin."

"Because that ratty old Hat saw something other than the long-held prejudices of what makes one a Slytherin. Contrary to what your housemates may have you believe it is not bloodlines nor history that does so."

Malachi nodded, slowly, digesting his words.

"Do you think differently of me? Now that you know?" Severus asked, without any hint of vulnerability in his tone; rather, he put it towards Malachi as a challenge, daring him to do so.

"No, Sir," Malachi shook his head, utterly certain he didn't; "Of course not."

There was the slightest of twitches on Severus' lips, before he reached beneath the binder he had put on the side of the desk, pulling out another roll of parchment that he handed over.

Malachi unrolled it, quickly realising it was an outline of the Muggle Studies curriculum, as Severus went on.

"I presume you did not look too much into the course during the selection process – very few students do, due to the less-than-challenging nature of the early lessons – but, in your case, the tedium of it will pay off once the more thought-provoking topics begin to be addressed."

Malachi glanced over it, eyes quickly picking up the various essay assignments that would be handed out within it. The mundane ones which Malachi expected and which his Housemates, many students, actually, not just Slytherins, would scoff at.

_Why Do Muggles Need Electricity?_

_What are Automobiles and Why Do Muggles Need Them?_

_Is Muggle Christmas the Same as Ours?_

_How Do Muggles Put Out Fires?_

Malachi's eyes drifted to the later questions, the more interesting ones that Severus made reference to, and his eyes quickly fell upon the one, the very question, that Malachi had been plagued with all summer.

_Who Does the International Statute of Secrecy Protect? Us or Them?_

Malachi drew in a breath, meeting Severus' eyes.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

Malachi put it down on the desk, as if it were a dangerous item to touch, and shook his head with a frown; "I don't…"

"You don't? Is this not the very thing that you have been trying to find the answers to?"

Malachi looked at him.

"The answers to the questions that you seek will not be found in the whispers of the Common Room or even in the books and articles that have been so eagerly passed your way."

"You think I should do this?" Malachi looked at the parchment in front of him, realising that he desperately wanted to.

"I can certainly see where your enthusiasm lies."

Yes, it did. It _really_ did. Malachi wanted so much to do it, now that he could see what they'd be studying. He caught a glimpse of a question that could only relate to the Witch Trials he had been reading about.

"You have talent, Mr Black," Severus said, drawing his attention back to him; "And ambition. Do not allow the foolishness of youth, either your housemates or your own, deter you from who and where you want to be."

Malachi bit his lip, drawing in a deep breath through his nose, looking back at the parchment between them.

After a moment, Severus spoke again; "Shall I have a word with Professor Burbage?"

Malachi met his eyes and Severus only returned the look, utterly serious but there was warmth and encouragement in his eyes as he did. After a second, Malachi grinned, giving him a nod and was rewarded with a rare smile in turn.

* * *

" _Muggle Studies?"_

Regulus was aghast, and Severus fought back his amusement at the look on his friend's face.

"The boy is merely curious, Regulus," Severus said, by means of explanation, as he regarded him over his desk; "About our relations with _them,_ not about the Dark Lord or joining his Death Eaters. Indeed, he apparently thinks we were very stupid for joining the ranks in the first place."

"But _Muggle Studies,_ Severus, at the expense of Ancient Runes, no less!"

"Pah. I can count on zero fingers the amount of times I have put the teachings of that course to use since completing my own NEWTs. Muggle Studies, at least, has some relevance to the issues your son is going to face."

"It is a waste of an elective."

"Not at all," Severus denied the statement; "You've seen where Malachi's interests lie and, frankly, a little more understanding of muggle life will go a long way in deterring him from taking up arms against them in the future, if that is still an ongoing concern of yours."

Regulus eyed him; "I thought you said he rejected that notion, completely."

"He did."

"And his Housemates? They were already insufferable –"

"Are all scheduled to take alternative classes, thus ensuring he will have at least one class free from their influence for the next few years that he has opted to remain with them," Severus said, unclipping the fastenings of his briefcase.

"I don't know if you're encouraging him or playing him in all of this," Regulus stated, uneasily.

"I am doing my job as his Head of House, to guide in the direction which one believes will be of benefit to him," Severus said, unassumingly, tossing the parchments that needed overlooked onto his desk.

Regulus paced the ground in front of him, seeming to think over the new turn of events, the utterly comical notion that a _Black_ should be enrolled on a course studying the ins and outs of muggle life; it would be amusing to Severus, even, if his reasonings behind it were not so serious.

After a minute, Regulus sighed, meeting his eyes; "You're sure, Severus?" there was trust in his eyes, hope that Severus had managed to steer his son away from the path he seemed doomed to follow, mere hours before; "There's nothing to be worried about?"

"Completely," Severus said, entirely certain, and leaned back to meet his eyes; "The boy is yours, Regulus."

Regulus gave him a small smile and a nod, gratitude in his expression as he regarded him. And then he turned away, to head back to his own office, even then, Severus heard him mutter under his breath, derisively as he did so.

"Muggle Studies."

Severus couldn't help but chuckle to himself, as he reached for his quill, when the adjourning door clicked shut behind him.

* * *

Regulus downed the firewhiskey in one swig.

He placed the glass back on the top of the counter, back in the direction of the girl who had served him, though she was now occupied with another punter in the two seconds it had taken for him to finish his own drink.

Without the distraction of his drink, or his work, or the flirty chatter of the much-too-young barmaid, Regulus had to make a more concentrated effort not to let his mind wander back to Hogwarts and his boy, holed up within it. Not to keep turning it over and over, inside and out, all that had plagued him these past few weeks; Slytherin and the Statute, and the Dark Lord, and _Greengrass,_ and Malachi, his boy, and, Muggle Studies, and, so help him, Anchor Ridge.

Regulus glanced around the pub, an entirely familiar one to him, though he hadn't been here in some weeks. Malachi's time at home from school had rendered the need for any other company obsolete throughout the summer months; he was quite content to just enjoy the evenings with his son.

Now, though, Regulus was itching for it; some human contact. His eyes skimmed the various inhabitants, settling first on a redhead opposite who glanced his way – albeit briefly – and then on a blonde who had just walked up to the bar on the other side, who was giving him some very unsubtle come-hither eyes as she did so.

Either would do.

"Another, Regulus?" Melinda, the barmaid – yes, they were on first name basis at this point, his jaunts to this place were so frequent - raised the bottle of firewhiskey she held, already knowing the answer.

Regulus shot her a grin and lifted the empty glass for her to pour; "You are too kind."

"I live to serve."

"Don't we all?" Regulus said, wryly, before nodding at the redhead. She was prettier; "And whatever she's drinking, Mel. If you don't mind?"

"You are shameless, you know that. What about the blonde?"

"What about her?"

"I just saw you two giving one another the eyes."

"Meh," Regulus waved a hand, why not; "Offer her one as well, then."

"You, Mr Black, are a jackass," Melinda stated, though her smile was wide.

"And yet the women just can't resist," Regulus grinned in response and Melinda laughed, shaking her head as she walked away to do as he asked; two drinks quickly poured and handed each women's way.

Both of them eyed him, smiling in gratitude, completely unaware the other was doing the same, and Regulus was still determined he'd go and get better acquainted with the redhaired one; her gaze hadn't lingered on him quite as long as the other. Not so easy, possibly. She might just want to play a bit, first.

Regulus had always liked the chase.

He started and finished off his second drink in one gulp and began to make his way around the bar.

"Well, well. Who'd have thought I'd find Regulus Black in such a dreary, dingy place as this?"

Regulus halted immediately in his steps, eyes quickly finding the source of the oh-so-familiar voice, just as Julia swept into the spot in front of him, preventing him for moving any further.

He smiled, unable to help himself; "I could say the same about yourself, Miss Bradbury."

"Right. I only live two blocks up the road."

"I'd quite forgotten."

"That memorable, was it?"

Regulus laughed and gave a bashful shrug, knowing she knew he was joking, and he told himself that it was just a coincidence, of course, that he'd wanted some female company that night and just so happened to venture down to her local to find it.

"On the prowl?" Julia glanced pointedly in the direction of the blonde, who was watching them.

"Hm. Think I've missed my chance," Regulus said, when the woman watching them turned away, looking unimpressed.

"Well, what about that one, then?" Julia asked, a wry smile on her lips when she indicated in the direction of the other, who was glancing at them, far more subtly from where she still stood. Her glance was coy and really, rather, adorable. It reminded Regulus of Evelyn.

Maybe it was better he was interrupted.

"What are you drinking, Miss Bradbury?" Regulus asked, turning back to the bar and fighting a grin when he saw Melinda watching, shaking her head incredulously as she smirked in his direction.

"You know what I'm drinking, Black," Julia said, leaning her elbows back on the bar, glancing out around the pub; "What brings you down here?"

"Obviously I was looking for you," Regulus stated, eyes twinkling, before he turned his smile Melinda's way when she approached; "Firewhiskey and a Daisyroot, Mel."

"Certainly, Sir," Melinda flashed him a smile.

"Obviously you're hoping to get laid," Julia retorted, as Melinda went to fetch them their drinks.

"Is that an offer?"

Julia shot him a look, though her smile was still there, and Regulus was pretty certain that it _was_ an offer, one that he really ought not to take up. He had been with Julia frequently, recently, enough that it was almost becoming a habit – a _thing_ – and there could be nothing like that. Not with anyone.

Julia, however, wasn't someone to take no for an answer when she wanted something – he really shouldn't have allowed them to become well enough acquainted to know, even, that about her – and with the way she stood, back to the counter, leaning ever so slightly in his direction with a look in her eyes that told him Julia knew _exactly_ what she wanted that night…

They took their offered drinks gladly, Regulus enjoying the welcome feeling of lightness that gradually made itself known following the next, and the one after that.

"How has your summer treated you, then?" Julia asked, and Regulus realised that as the time had flittered on, they had gradually moved towards one another, enough so they were now standing close enough that their clothing brushed against the other's each time that they moved.

"Delightful," Regulus said, and he meant it – he'd had Malachi, after all – though he realised he actually hadn't seen Julia in months. With the exception of James Potter's funeral, that is, and there had been no opportunities for closeness, then.

He really shouldn't. But, hell, did he _want_ to. It was always better with Julia, than it was with anyone else, the women he picked up and left behind in between.

Regulus let his hand drift, caressing the curve of her hip, and Julia's eyes darkened accordingly, even as she chuckled; "Subtle."

He raised his eyebrows, eyes widening innocently; "I've been less so."

"So you have," she nodded, conceding the point.

Regulus smiled, the hand on her hip slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt at the low of her back, fingertips mischievously drawing circles, and she immediately stepped forward, claiming his lips with her own.

His eyes drifted closed as he reached up, taking her face in his hands; he was desperate to touch, to be touched and felt, nothing brought quite the same comfort as warm arms and soft lips and that feeling of utter connectedness when you lost yourself in another person.

Regulus drew back, touching his forehead to hers, when they were both breathless; "I think a more suited venue is in order."

"Hm." Julia smiled, taking his hand in hers and walking backwards, tugging him to follow; "I quite agree, Mr Black."

Within mere minutes, the two of them were stumbling and fumbling their way across the threshold of a flat that was becoming far too familiar to him.

Regulus pushed the disparaging thought aside.

He wanted, needed, and _would_ lose himself in her tonight.

A few blissful hours, where he could simply forget.

* * *

Harry had never been so nervous.

It was absurd.

And what the hell had he been _thinking,_ willingly putting himself forward for a detention with Snape?

Even if the Potions Professor _was_ on their side – and Harry was entirely inclined to believe that he was, not that it made him any less freaked out by his most recent Death Eater activities - it wasn't as if he could just march into his office and demand answers from him.

He was nothing to Snape!

Just a student, and a mediocre one at that, not to mention the son of a man he must completely despise. Or, did. Past tense, Harry reminded himself.

Any notion that Harry had of approaching him with the hope that he might be able to bring back some semblance of a memory of his father for him had been utterly dashed in the face of all of this.

Harry tried to remember back to the last time he had seen Snape, _before_ the big resurrection party of 1994, and he could remember it all pretty well. The almost-teasing about meditation, and the confiding in his feelings about what happened to Pettigrew, and how he had felt entirely able to ask the man for his help – and how the Professor had obliged – and how they had _smiled_ at one another.

Harry tried to hold onto it, that memory, that tiny connection they had made, in the hope that it would give him the strength and the assurance he needed to just push on with this and just ask him exactly what Snape was, why he had helped him and what the hell Voldemort was planning now and what were they going to do about it.

But his conviction was lost the minute he stepped through the door to the Potions classroom, five minutes early for his detention, where he found Snape standing in wait, leaning back on his desk with his arms crossed and his expression completely cut off as he regarded him.

It wasn't cold or furious or, even, irritated; it was just blank.

"Mr Potter."

"Professor," Harry said, trying first for respect.

It didn't get him far.

"Well. One day in and here we are again. It seems the summer months have done nothing to curb your charming enthusiasm for rebellion."

Harry hesitated, unsure if Snape was referring to the specific events of the summer or if he was just speaking generally and being an arse.

"Looks like it."

Harry fought not to glare.

Snape caught it anyway.

"And the attitude to go along with it. Brilliant. As it so happens, I shall be spared the pleasure, for I have far more pressing matters to attend to this morning."

"Wait, what?"

"Mr Potter," Snape drawled, eyeing him, and Harry was sure he was _amused;_ "You almost seem disappointed."

Harry frowned, realising that Snape knew exactly why he had come, why he had orchestrated all of this, and he was neither falling for it nor entertaining it.

Harry pushed aside his disappointment, the disappointment Snape had instantly picked up on – obviously his new success at meditation had done nothing to help his, apparent, transparency – and glanced away, lest Snape see anything else in his eyes.

This was pointless. There was almost no need for disappointment at all.

It wasn't like he would have been able to get any answers out of Snape anyway. Gone was that tiny bit of warmth Harry had thought he'd seen in him, in their last lesson, even in his voice as he had murmured the incantation during the ritual that had set him free.

Maybe if he hurried, he could catch up with Malachi and see if he still wanted to go into Hogsmeade with him that day before his Uncle Remus made other plans.

"Fine," Harry muttered, beginning to turn away.

"Have I dismissed you?"

Harry hesitated in his movements, turning his head back in Snape's direction with a frown; "You just said -"

"I said that _I_ will not be present for the remainder of the morning. You, however, have demonstrated such a keenness for detention, that I feel I must oblige –"

"But –"

"Do not interrupt me, Mr Potter," Snape straightened up from where he had been leaning against his desk, almost casually. He did not look casual anymore, however, rather he _loomed_ over Harry, in an attempt to teach him another lesson; "If respect is so far over your head, might I instead suggest a little subtlety in your attempts at manipulation next time? Or perhaps, even, a simple; Sir, might I have a word?"

Harry drew in a breath, even as he glowered; "Sir, might I have a word?"

"No, you may not."

Harry made to open his mouth, effectively outraged at the tease, but Snape carried on smoothly.

"The remainder of your detention will be served in silence. Not that you shall find anyone's ear to bend for the next eight hours, even if you should wish to, or however long it takes you to complete this task. In that regard, I suppose I ought to thank you. I had been meaning to see to it that this was done at some point this term. Such a task of _great_ importance has now been struck off my list; my gratitude knows no bounds."

"My pleasure, Sir," Harry returned Snape's sarcasm with as much as he could muster into his own words, past his disappointment and mortification that his plan had backfired so spectacularly, instead only serving to make him look like a complete and utter idiot to the man in front of him.

He had no chance of getting Snape to talk, if that's what he thought of him.

"Well?"

Harry looked up sharply at Snape's soft tone.

Snape glanced pointedly at the _massive_ pile of cauldrons that he had stacked up in the middle of the room. Harry released a huff, glowering in Snape's direction and Harry could have sworn the man's lips twitched and his eyes danced with amusement – clearly enjoying this – before he let the bag slung over his shoulder slip to the floor with a thud and made his way towards them.

"Do try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone, Potter."

With that, Snape left the room.

Harry kicked the first cauldron to foot, with a scowl.

* * *

Sunlight flickering through the window, behind curtains that stirred under the light breeze, woke Regulus from his slumber.

Bleary eyes peered around the immediate surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was, before they quickly settled on the playful ones of the woman who had taken him home the night before.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes, does he?"

Regulus grinned.

He rolled onto his back, giving a stretch, if only to put a little distance between them. He had never stayed a full night before, not with anyone since Evelyn. It was an entirely bewildering experience, to wake to the eyes of another.

"You need a new mattress," he stated, by way of greeting.

"What's wrong with my mattress?"

"You can feel every spring biting into your back."

"Well, I'm afraid you're just going to have to put up with it. I have quite an attachment to it, you see. It's served me well."

Regulus met her eyes with a chuckle; "It's you that has to put up with it."

"You know, it's customary to wait until after breakfast to give someone the brush off; at least after spending the night."

"I'm not familiar with the rule."

"Only because you've never stuck around to try it out," Julia flung the covers from herself – utterly, shamelessly naked – and headed in the direction of the door; "Pancakes or eggs, Black?"

"Both."

Regulus tucked a hand beneath his head, lying in the familiar bed and staring at the familiar ceiling, and reminded himself not to get used to this; the welcome domesticity of all of it. He enjoyed this sort of thing too much. The warmth, the belonging. Too much for any good to come of it. He was, had always been, entirely weak under another person's kindness.

"Here you are, Sir," Julia said, stepping back into the room a short while later, now dressed in a t-shirt, and carrying a plate in each hand. One of eggs, scrambled, and another a tower of pancakes, drizzled in something sweet and sticky, with pieces of berries scattered along the side. She placed them on the bed and got back under the covers next to him.

"Mornings look good on you," Regulus said, matter-of-factly, reaching for one of the forks on the plate and taking a stab and mouthful of the eggs.

"You look pretty damn cute, yourself, Black," Julia grinned, rolling a pancake and lifting it with her fingers, and the sticky stuff got everywhere, dripping down onto the bare skin of her thigh next to his face.

Regulus didn't even hesitate, leaning down and licking it off in a deliberate motion, and he felt her jump, startled, before she laughed, and Regulus lifted his head, shooting her an unabashed smile, and reached for a pancake of his own.

"I always figured you for an early riser," Julia said, with a glance in the direction of the timepiece.

It was well past ten.

"I don't live to much of a schedule," Regulus stated, through a mouthful; "No one to need me when my son isn't home. Even then, I think I've started to tread into the dreaded 'embarrassing Dad' territory and he would much rather be holed up in his room than listen to me prattling on."

"How is he doing?"

"Malachi? He's fine."

His son was not fine.

Julia got out of the bed, heading from the room, and returning a few minutes later with glasses of fruit juice, holding one out to him and he gladly accepted, taking a long drink, only then realising how thirsty he was and there was the tell-tale light pounding of a dehydration headache brought on by his drinking the night before.

Julia climbed back into bed beside him and Regulus resisted the urge to draw her to him, lifting a strawberry instead; "I didn't realise you put on such a good spread. I've been missing out."

"You'll know for next time."

Regulus met her eyes, licking the syrup from his fingers, and she watched him, eyes darkening as she did, and it made him smile, the way that she didn't even bother to hide how she wanted him.

Julia leaned in, as if reading his thoughts, kissing him, soundly.

Regulus did not resist. He loved to kiss.

The rest of his body loved it as well, it seemed, as it quickly stirred at the sensations evoked by her touch.

Julia drew back, fingers toying with the hair at the top of his chest; "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Other than this bed?"

"I wasn't suggesting an entire day in bed, Regulus," she said, using his name and laughing, with a twinkle in her eyes, and it both warmed and frightened him, how much he liked it.

Regulus slid his hands up her thighs until he grasped her from behind, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, to straddle him; "Either way, I'm all yours."

"I'm quite satisfied myself."

"Little tease."

"You're the one that pulled me up here."

"True enough."

Julia leaned down, lips going to his neck and she bit down on the flesh, making his breath hitch, before her tongue flicked out to soothe the burn.

Her voice was a murmur against his ear; "You're the tease here, Mr Black."

Regulus wasn't sure quite what she meant but he didn't get much time to dwell on it, his mind already becoming a lust-induced haze at the feel of her weight and her thighs and her breasts against him. He reached down, tugging the shirt up and over her head; "Well, you're in luck today. I fully intend on following through with my promises."

Julia shot him a smile, that he mirrored, before he grasped her once more and flipped her so that she was now below him, eliciting the most delightful laugh and an equally delightful sigh before her fingers wound into his hair and drew him back down to her.

Regulus nuzzled in close.

Happily fooling himself for a little while longer, utterly helpless to resist.

* * *

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day that Severus Snape would come to _me_ looking to place a student in one of my classes," Charity Burbage said, with a laugh in her voice.

"Wonders never cease, as they say," Severus offered by means of explanation; "I am confident you will find Mr Black an amicable student."

"Oh, I'm sure I will. I can't say he and I have had much to do with one another thus far, but I do tend to have a special fondness for any and all students that come my way. Some of us have to, after all," she said, with a teasing looking in her eye.

"Touché," Severus raised an eyebrow, though his lips twitched at the prod; "Then I shall inform him of the confirmation?"

"Of course. The first Slytherin I have ever taught. It would be my pleasure," Charity smiled, widely, as if she truly meant it –she did, Severus was certain – and he gave only a nod of gratitude before he made his way from her classroom.

Severus took his time.

He was in no real hurry to return to the Potions Classroom, for he knew that he would be faced with either unending unanswerable questions from Harry when he did, or, just as equally exasperating, a tiresome demonstration of the fact that he was dealing with a fourteen-year-old boy who had absolutely no control over his emotions or his temper.

He was in no mood for such attitude.

And certainly, he was not in the mood to play the boy's games. To blow up a cauldron in middle of class, intentionally, to secure an audience with him; Severus didn't think even Harry Potter could be so foolish as to do so!

Just when Severus had been beginning to wonder if he had underestimated him. He _had_ demonstrated some capabilities of critical thinking during his escape that summer, after all.

Not to mention, yesterday's fiasco with regards to Malachi and the bloody Statute had already drawn out whatever little patience he had remaining, following his recent weeks by the Dark Lord's side, and he was not at all impressed by the new attitude Regulus' son had seemed to develop in his absence, either.

Severus only hoped his faith in that matter – that there was no way such a kind, sweet boy could ever be lured to the darkness – was not misplaced.

Severus would have to watch him, even more closely, for the foreseeable future.

These boys!

They would surely be the death of him. He, Severus Snape, who hung off the arms of the two most powerful, most _ruthless_ wizards of all time, to be brought to his knees by the antics of teenage boys.

Potter and Black, round two, indeed.

Severus caught sight of Remus Lupin up ahead.

Oh, goody.

He fought not to roll his eyes when it became apparent he was waiting for him, outside his office door. He drew in a bracing breath a few steps before he reached him.

"Severus," Lupin said, immediately, before Severus could say anything in greeting; "A word?"

Lupin's tone was uncharacteristically cold, which was a welcome change from the pitiful faux-kindness he sought to present to him the previous year when they had been thrown together in this place as colleagues.

"For you, Lupin? Anything."

Severus pushed open the door to his office, walking in first, and simply leaving the door open behind him for Lupin to follow.

The door had not even closed on its hinges when the Defence Professor began to offload his current woes.

"Detention. On the _first day,_ Severus."

"Indeed," Severus turned, eyeing him; "Though I cannot claim to be as shocked as you seem to be about it. It is hardly a rare occurrence."

"You can say that again," Lupin's eyes were dark with unbridled anger and Lily would be pretty peeved to know that Severus found the werewolf's outrage more than a little entertaining.

It seemed Harry's childish antics did have some benefits, after all.

Lupin's prattling went on; "You'd think with you claiming the boy is 'family', only three months ago, you would find the heart to let a little misdemeanour slide within the first hour of the school term. For the sake of his first Hogsmeade visit, if nothing else."

"Now, Lupin, you are not seriously suggesting that I should be lenient towards a student because of my relationship with him? That is hardly ethical."

"Ethical," Lupin breathed out, humourless laughter in his tone as he did; "And you are certainly one to preach ethics, aren't you, Severus?"

"Touchy. That time of month?"

Lupin's eyes flashed.

"Even you could not be so heartless. This is Harry's _first_ Hogsmeade visit. The first opportunity he has had to attend –"

"Now, let us not be revisionist, Lupin," Severus interrupted him, with an unaffected drawl; "You cannot claim to be ignorant to the fact that Harry has, in fact, attended numerous Hogsmeade visits for the past year. Without permission, perhaps, but he has certainly never missed an opportunity to do so. Something your very own creation from yourself and your cronies' school years no doubt assisted him in."

"Speaking of which, I'll have that back, if you please."

"I should think not. It will be destroyed; such items are a gross violation of privacy and I do not want to be wandering the halls wondering if Remus Lupin is looking in on my bathroom habits."

"Heaven forbid I should discover another of your dirty little secrets."

Severus' eyes narrowed; "Watch it, Lupin."

Lupin held his gaze, his outrage over this little incident with Harry seeming to lead to the development of a backbone, an occurrence which Severus never thought he'd have the _pleasure_ of witnessing, but Severus would not allow the wolf to throw his circumstances with Lily and Grace in his face to win an argument.

No way.

"If Harry is missing out on this much longed for trip, then he has only himself to blame," Severus stated, diverting the conversation elsewhere, lest he lose his temper. He still had Harry to deal with, after all, and he did not want his resolve rattled by bloody Remus Lupin, of all people.

"You're actually enjoying this," Lupin said, accusingly, not letting it go.

Severus crossed his arms across his chest, eyeing him; "Would it surprise you more if I were? Or if I weren't?"

Lupin shook his head, with an expression of utter disgust, that Severus couldn't care less about.

His _words_ , however, were another matter. In this case.

"Harry and Malachi have been looking forward to this trip for months. You'd know that if you had been there this summer, for the family you claim to care for."

Severus could feel the coldness that coursed immediately throughout his veins at the statement, while he spoke, icily; "Excuse me?"

Lupin held his look, not backing down, his eyes telling him it all; everything he had thrown at Lily some months before. That Severus ought to defect, to be there, to hold Harry's hand as a parent, a father, rather than guide him as a soldier as the Dark Lord made his approach. That Lily would lose her son, over this, if they carried on any longer this way. That they could protect their daughter, if they only relied on the power of _love._ As well as all the other _dragonshit_ the wolf had spieled and had left Lily with that day, until she was eventually a complete nervous wreck when Severus had come home and found her some hours later, and he felt his blood go from cold to positively _boiling_ at the recollection of it.

Severus stepped towards him, no longer playing games or enjoying this, his eyes dark and his voice low; "You are allowed access to my home, to my child, only due to my good graces, Lupin," he glowered at him; "Do not forget that."

Lupin shook his head, returning his look evenly; "If you think you can use Grace to make me stand back and watch you put Harry through another year of misery, Severus, you're sadly mistaken."

"Why, Lupin, I must say you are almost _inhuman_ when someone dares to cross you. I am quite quaking."

Lupin released a puff of air through his nose, eyes deadly serious when he spoke; "Just try me."

Severus' eyes narrowed.

But nothing further was said, Lupin turning on his heel and storming from the office, slamming the door behind him in his wake.

* * *

The pile of cauldrons seemed to go on _forever_.

Harry reached up, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, as he puffed out a breath at the exertion of scrubbing, yet another, cauldron and he looked despairing at the pitiful pile of them to his left that he had actually managed to complete in the hours since he had been here.

He was such an idiot.

Why, _why_ had he opted for _this_ rather than just go to Hogsmeade with Malachi; he should have known that Snape would see right through his plan, that he would turn it all around and make a fool out of him.

Harry sighed, dragging the newly cleaned cauldron over to the tiny pile of polished ones, and made his way, unenthusiastically, back in the direction of the dirty ones to fetch another.

The door to the classroom burst open with such force that Harry jumped.

He looked sharply at the intruder – Snape, obviously – who looked absolutely furious, certainly not the calm and amused Professor who had left him a few hours before.

Harry frowned, unabashedly curious at what had happened to cause such a drastic change of mood.

"That'll do, Potter."

Snape bit the words out, a blunt dismissal, before he turned on his heel, making to leave.

"Wait!"

Harry blurted it out before he could think about what he was saying.

Snape stopped, glancing over his shoulder at him.

Harry drew in a breath, mustering all of his Gryffindor bravery – he surely needed it, to confront a known Death Eater, after all – and simply said; "I know what you are."

For a moment, Snape did not react.

And then, the man's eyes closed, looking for all intents and purposes as if he would go _insane_ at the very words spoken; "Potter."

"Please, Sir. You can't deny it. I know it was you."

There was a heavy silence, in which the words sunk in.

Snape flicked his wand, abruptly, and the door to the classroom slammed shut. He turned back, striding towards him with that familiar determination, the very one Harry had immediately identified as he had knelt in the muck in front of the cauldron during the ritual that brought Voldemort back to life; "Sit."

Harry frowned but did so, immediately, hoping that obedience, respect, may lead to him getting the answers he sought.

Snape turned to face him, in front of the desk which Harry had chosen, his tone clipped when he spoke; "Have you experienced any further nightmares, Mr Potter? Throughout the summer?"

"Not for a while, Sir. Not for the past month, at least."

"Nothing at all? How about since your return to Hogwarts?"

"Nothing. I've been practicing meditation. I…I'm doing good, I think," Harry realised it sounded pathetic, like he was hoping for praise, but Snape breezed on, offering neither a sneer nor a pat on the back at the statement.

"The Dark Lord is aware of your connection. As far as we are aware, he is using his own skills in occlumency to prevent you from witnessing anything further regarding his dealings or whereabouts."

Harry frowned, immediately intrigued; "I…how does he know? Has…has he been seeing into my head, too?"

"How he learned of it is irrelevant. What _is_ relevant, however, is that he is now engaging in attempts to block this connection. As such, should you see anything – _at all –_ no matter the content, you must assume that it is an attempt to manipulate you. Do not respond to anything that you see, do you understand?"

"Yes."

Snape stared at him, his dubiousness written all over his face.

"Yes, Sir," Harry repeated.

Snape glanced away, seeming to contemplate what to say next, but the silence dragged and Harry thought he'd try a question, instead.

"So. He could be watching us, now? In my head?"

"The Dark Lord cannot simultaneously block and tap into the connection. Though whether or not he could do so, at will, is not something that has been confirmed or disputed; nor has the question of whether or not he has done so at all."

"Oh. Okay. Good," Harry nodded, relieved.

"Nonetheless, discretion is certainly something to be strived for. As such, it would serve us both well if you would get your verbal runs under control. Immediately."

"My…runs?"

"Indeed. Do tell me, Mr Potter, how many people have you seen fit to inform of the details as to your great escape from the Dark Lord some weeks ago?"

Oh.

Harry hesitated.

He knew better than to actually answer.

"Too many, is, I believe, the answer you were looking for," Snape said, tersely, looking entirely vexed with him when he did; "There was a reason why you were not grandiosely swept from the clutches of your captors that night, and should he who _assisted_ you in your escape have gone to such efforts to ensure that it was done so, so delicately, one can assume that he would not be happy with word of his involvement being announced to every ear that happened to turn your way in the aftermath."

Harry swallowed, feeling himself redden.

"You claim you know what I am. Need I explain to you the necessity for discretion, Mr Potter?"

"No, Sir."

"And are you frightened of me, now, Mr Potter?"

"What?" Harry frowned.

He was freaked out, sure. Snape was, well, a _badass_ , and not in a cool, inspirational way either. But in an I-definitely-don't-want-to-get-on-the-wrong-side-of-you kind of way. But Harry couldn't claim to be _frightened,_ not really _._ He didn't, as Malachi had previously joked, think Snape was going to chop him up and use him in a potion any time soon.

Or ever.

He was, had been since the moment his cell door clicked open, entirely certain that Snape was on his side.

Harry was starting to feel incredibly foolish.

"No, Sir," Harry said, honestly; "I'm not."

Snape neither warmed nor hardened in response to the statement. Merely regarded him, silently.

And then he lifted his timepiece; "It is a little after midday. I believe there is still time to seek out your Defence Professor, should you wish to engage in the festivities of the day."

Harry was shocked.

"You mean, Hogsmeade?"

"What else could I possible mean, Mr Potter?"

Harry simply stared at him, saying nothing.

Snape lifted his eyebrows, saying only one simple word.

"Go."

Harry's lips twitched, and then he smiled, turning from him and making his way from the room.

Nothing much was answered, nothing at all really. He certainly didn't come away knowing anything more about Snape or about Voldemort, or any of the questions he had been ready to pose in the scenario he had rehearsed in his mind, of their first encounter since the event had taken place.

But that didn't matter, in the face of the settlement that had happened within his own mind at the realisation he had come to in those few moments that they _had_ spoken.

Harry realised as he thought about it, about all that happened that night and all the confusion that he had been feeling ever since. It wasn't that he _didn't_ trust Snape that had been bothering him since he had made his escape that night.

It was that he _did._


	53. October 1994: The Last Marauder

Julia's laughter filled the small bedroom.

Regulus could bottle the sound in a potion's phial and he would have his very own, personal Elixir of Euphoria, that's how utterly screwed he was.

And he knew it.

Yet, Regulus was helpless to resist.

It had all started that one night, the night the month before, when he had opted to close his eyes as they lay in her bed, breathless and high in the aftermath of their activities – always so very _good_ – rather than getting to his feet and dressing himself, leaving with barely a word. The latter, that had always been their way.

Contrary to Julia's teasing assertion, the following day _had_ wound up being an entire day spent in bed and it was with great reluctance that Regulus had been dismissed as the afternoon faded into evening.

A day filled with touches and whispers and teasing and laughter, as they basked in the afterglow of the night before, in a way that Regulus had long since forgotten. All of this, everything they were doing, it was a thing of memory, of _fantasy,_ that he had not dared to even _think_ about in the years since he had lost Evelyn.

Upon leaving the flat, in the dim light of the September evening, Regulus vowed he would not go back there – he mustn't – because it was all too much, too far, and he shouldn't be feeling that little flutter in his chest or that stupid, ridiculous inability to stop smiling.

Regulus knew he was on very dangerous ground, as he left Julia that night.

But his resolve, his logic, totally failed to keep him under control, because that one day was enough, enough to plant the seeds, for her to get under his skin, and for _days_ in the aftermath of it, she was all that he could think about.

It was a longing he could not shake until, finally, he had gone back to the place where they had met that night, the pub, in a vain attempt to convince himself that he wasn't there to see Julia - no, _any_ woman would do – and he denied that the little lurch and soar of his stomach meant anything at all when he spotted her.

She had taken him home again that night.

Regulus had stayed another day.

It carried on in that way, for the rest of the month; him denying what he was doing, days passing, and then they'd come together once more, and have a day off pure bliss.

Today was another such day.

He had stayed the night – a _second_ night, in fact – and they always spent most of the next day beneath the covers, simply stroking and whispering and laughing with one another, playing games and touching and kissing, as if it were all the most natural thing in the world.

"Alright," Regulus said as he stretched out in the bed, playing the game that Julia had suggested; "Where were you in…nineteen-eighty-one?"

Obviously, the year was not one chosen at random, it could not have been _less_ so, but Regulus put on an air of nonchalance as he spoke the words.

"Nineteen-eighty-one?" Julia repeated with a knowing smile; "That is both incredibly broad and incredibly specific, Mr Black. Where were _you_ in nineteen-eighty-one?"

_Hell._

"Here," Regulus gave a shrug, then shot her a disarming smile and raised his eyebrows; "Your turn."

"Ha. Oh man, nineteen-eighty-one," Julia bent her elbow and leaned her head on her hand, glancing down at him where he lay; "That was a crazy year."

"It was?"

"Hm."

"How so?"

" _Graduation._ Freedom, the world, all that jazz."

"Sounds exhilarating," Regulus remarked, his smile becoming smaller, more genuine, at the wide-eyed remembrance of it; "And did Beauxbatons make itself a prison, in your eyes?"

"Everywhere's a prison when you feel you can't leave at will, Black," Julia shrugged; "The first half of the year was shite. Exams looming. Relationships ending. Apprenticeship rejections and acceptances, with _crazy high_ conditions attached." Her voice grew softer, eyes leaving his to go to the fingers that trailed the hair on his chest; "Oh, and, uh…my mum died. So. Yeah. That kind of sucked."

Regulus swallowed.

He knew how that was; the grief of losing a parent; "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Black," Julia lifted a hand, waving it in a dismissive manner, but Regulus could tell by the loss of that familiar sparkle in her eye that she was still affected; "It was so long ago, now. All's done and dusted, so they say."

"Julia –"

She kissed him – which was so very lovely – silencing anything further he had to say on the matter, and when she drew back she carried on, smoothly.

"So, with all that happening, I took off for the hills the day school wrapped up. Dad was in Singapore, I thought I'd try my hand at being the dutiful daughter for a while. It did _not_ go well –" they both laughed; "And then, well…you know where I ended up," Julia lifted her hand, drawing attention to the little tattoo on the inside of her wrist; "Ended up with the girls for a good while before I decided to come back here and take on the guy that made the decision to reject me from the Healing Programme. And here I am."

"How'd you convince him to take you on?" Regulus frowned.

Julia's eyes twinkled, and she shrugged; "I have my ways."

Regulus wondered if he ought to prod further but, really, there were so many other, far more interesting things to know about her than how she got onto the Healing Programme that had, eventually, brought her into his life.

Instead, he turned the direction back to something a little more personal, pushing aside the little voice inside his head that told him that he didn't deserve _anything_ personal from her.

"Your father lives in Singapore? There's not much of a magical presence there."

Julia looked at him, carefully, a smile playing on her lip; "Oh, I doubt that would bother him too much."

"No?"

"Not at all, actually," Julia raised her shoulders in an unassuming shrug; "My parents are muggles."

Regulus simply stared back at her for a moment, in light of the statement. It was _just_ long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable and for him to look like a complete arse.

"Ah," he offered, pathetically, and he inwardly cursed every ancestor of his line that he had no idea what to say. He tried for a smile, instead, though it felt forced.

Julia, rather than being offended, smiled widely, her eyes dancing with unbridled amusement and there was laughter in her voice when she spoke; "Why, Mr Black, you seem entirely thrown by _that_ little statement."

Regulus relaxed, unable to help but smile broadly in turn, at the complete lack of offence she had taken to his assholery; "I'm afraid I don't know much about muggles."

"They make you uncomfortable?" she offered, by means of understanding.

"I wouldn't know, to be honest," Regulus shrugged, glancing down and reaching for her hand, to reassure her or himself, he didn't know; " _My_ parents, well. They didn't encourage mingling."

That was the understatement of the century.

Julia knew that too – the Blacks were hardly an obscure family, after all – but she didn't call him out on it. She tightened her hold on his hand, instead, and it was, then, that he realised it was reassurance for himself that he was looking for.

Regulus lifted the hands that were joined, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

Regulus tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, rather than where it was dangerously lingering, though he was certain Julia must know what he had once been and what that meant.

"So, if you attended Beauxbatons you must have grown up across the pond? Pardon the assumption, but you seem rather British to me."

"Born and bred. Before my parents divorced – they divorced – we lived up in Peterhead, do you know it? Well. That's where we stayed until I was ten. Mum's French, she took me with her back to France after Dad split."

"Big change."

"You're telling me. Though, hey. Before that I was Hogwarts-bound. Like you. Had things all gone to plan, you and I could have met a hell of a lot sooner than we did."

Thank the deities they _hadn't_!

Regulus couldn't help but avert his eyes at the innocent statement because he knew, he _knew_ , that if he had met Julia, if she had known him back then, there was no way she would ever _dream_ of letting him touch her the way that he was now.

At best, he would have simply ignored her. And he refused to muse any further upon it than that, because all this talk, all this personal stuff they were treading on – which he _always_ avoided – was stirring it all up within him.

It came to him in flashes, the memories of it all, the way he would sneer down his nose at the muggleborns and the half-bloods, laughing at the hexes and the jinxes his classmates would fire back and forth, all seeming so childish and utterly _tame_ in comparison to the recollections that oh-so-quickly came next.

Flashes of fire and torture and screams of grief and of terror; helpless pleading and tears shed in his childhood bedroom. All of it stirring and coiling and gripping him so suddenly, amid this moment of sheer bliss, that he closed his eyes and sprung to his feet, needing, desperately, to get away from her.

He snatched up his trousers from where they lay discarded on the floor, stepping into them as he moved further away, and it was only when he stopped, mere inches from the wall, that he realised his heart was thudding and each breath came out harsh. He quickly tried to get it under control, to get it together.

He was mortified.

And he knew how this looked. That he had sprung and run from her, mere minutes after she revealed to him her heritage; she would obviously think he was bothered by her being muggleborn.

But then, maybe it was better that she did. For if she thought his problem was with her, her very being, rather than the utter wretch that _he_ was, then maybe she would look at him with the disgust that he deserved and then _she_ would push _him_ away; if only, because he doubted he would be able to do it. To push her, to walk from her.

Even now, he hadn't left the room.

Regulus felt a hand on his back.

"Hey."

He drew in a steadying breath, looking over his shoulder at her, where she stood behind him.

If he was hoping for disgust, he was sadly mistaken. There was concern, certainly, which was the only additional emotion to the ones that she had always regarded him with; a look of complete warmth and trust and affection, and he did not deserve any of that. He didn't. Not from this incredible woman before him.

There was no insecurity in _her_ eyes, no seeming consideration that the problem was her, too sure of her own worth and her own strength to be bothered, even if he _was_ one to be bothered with it, a confidence that Regulus could only _dream_ of having had himself, back then and, even, now.

Julia's certainty only seemed to strengthen the longer he looked at her. And, then, she smiled at him. It wasn't that teasing, twinkling, cheeky little smile, either, that he was so used to from her. It was open and kind and tender and understanding – so, so much more than what he ought to be given – and Regulus found himself going from wanting to run _from_ her, to wanting to run _to_ her.

To take her in his arms and never let her go.

Regulus drew in a breath, shooting her a smile in turn, and her eyes immediately rolled with the change in his demeanour.

"Well," he said, as he turned to face her, fully; "if you lived in France, you must know how to speak French."

Julia nodded, eyes widening dramatically; "Well, what do you know? I do, in fact, know how to speak French."

Regulus grinned and wrapped his arms around her, delighted when she did not resist.

"Sexy," Regulus growled, to her laughter, and he leaned down, nipping her earlobe with his teeth, teasingly, before wrapping her completely in a bear hug and backing her up towards the bed as he spoke, theatrically; "Oh! Say something absolutely _ravishing_ to me, Miss Bradbury!"

They fell in a heap, him on top of her on the bed, and he lifted his head to look down at her, his smile bright while he kept her pinned to the mattress between his arms and legs; "I hear it's the most romantic language in the world."

"Oh, you are so full of _bullshit,_ Black!" Julia was laughing and trying to pull her arms out from their pinned positions at her sides.

"What? It's true!"

Regulus chuckled, while Julia giggled and wriggled beneath him, attempting to free herself from his grasp.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her hair, before his nose nuzzled in closer and his lips went to her ear; "Do you think I'm going to let you go?"

Julia's movements abruptly ceased.

Regulus drew back, meeting her eyes.

If he'd thought the teasing comment he had made would disarm her it was _nothing_ in comparison to how thoroughly bewitched _he_ was left feeling by the look that she gave him, then, gazing up at him with a look of such adoration that Regulus was certain he had her fooled just as much as he did himself, at what all of this was.

He should stop this, some flicker of rationality reminded him.

It was fleeting and pitiful, barely holding a candle in comparison to the overwhelming want, nay _need,_ that had gripped him at the look in her eyes and he went to her instead, lowering his face to hers.

Julia lifted her chin, expecting a kiss, but he didn't oblige this time; his nose brushed against hers, once, twice, before he trailed the tip up across the bridge to her forehead, and there he pressed a kiss, instead.

There was a small sigh beneath him, and he lingered as he was; lips to the soft skin of her brow and breathing her in.

"Regulus."

The way she breathed his name – his _name –_ never failed to give him goosebumps.

Regulus lightened his hold, slightly, when he felt her attempt to reach for him, allowing it. Her hands reached up, taking his face in her hands and drawing him down to look at her.

For a minute, as they simply looked into one another's eyes, Regulus thought – _feared_ – she might say something, something that would _really_ bring reality crashing down upon them, in a way their earlier turn of conversation almost had.

She read his mind – she always did – and simply tangled her fingers in his hair – it was heavenly the way it felt when she did that – and drew him the rest of the way to kiss him; the kiss he had teased, before, and he made up for it, this time, and kissed her back with all the want and the _need_ that she had evoked within him with merely a look.

When they eventually drew back, dazed and breathless in the aftermath, Regulus was not at all inclined to let her go – just as he had said – and he reached up, caressing her cheek, and it drew another of those small, sincere smiles of hers.

It would be a shame to kiss it away.

So, he leaned down to her shoulder instead, touching small, fleeting kisses across it, and he delighted in the way she shivered beneath him at his touch. Her lips found his, once more, kissing him with the same soft sweetness that he had been doing to her skin, and he liked it like this.

Gentle kisses and trailing fingertips and barely audible sighs, between all of the laughter and the teasing.

Regulus knew he was absolutely done for because he knew, with all the certainty in the world, that he should be a very happy man, indeed, if he could only keep doing this with her for the rest of his life.

If only.

* * *

Flashes of James Potter's face whizzed on by, flying on his broomstick, going past again and again on repeat; a moving photograph during a Quidditch game.

There was James Potter's face, staring blankly straight through him.

There was James Potter's photograph, enlarged and placed upon a stand, up at the front of the hall, the frame dressed in flowers and candles lining the bottom of the ledge. A funeral.

There was James Potter's look of the more sincerest loathing, as he glared right back at him…

Severus was abruptly – _finally –_ thrown from Harry's mind.

The boy's breathing was harsh, uneven, and a quick glance at Harry's face told Severus that he needed a minute to compose himself.

"Take a few minutes," Severus said, as he always did when the occasion called for it during these lessons and walked the short distance to his desk.

His step was lighter than it had been for weeks. He had been positively thundering through the halls as he had reeled in the aftermath of Lupin's taunt regarding his absence.

As if it were a _choice_ for him to spend his days at the side of the Dark Lord, rather than that of his little girl.

The conversation and the firewhiskey with Regulus the previous night had done him good.

No longer was Severus rattled and wracked with guilt as to what he was doing to his daughter – what he and Lily were doing, here, was the obvious and _only_ way of doing this – and he cursed Remus Lupin's very existence for making him doubt it.

For weeks, Severus had simmered and stewed over it, acutely aware of every minute that passed that he was not with Grace, trying to come up with various scenarios in his mind as to how things could be done differently. Asking himself if there was magic that could help them, a charm he could maybe tweak or create, some sort of concealment enchantment that would do something to allow him access to Grace; but, then, that would only complicate, further, the situation with Harry, which was part of the reason why he had walked away in the first place.

It was not only about Grace.

Lily couldn't deal with the lie, at such a level as having him actually in the house, anymore, and Severus knew that her resolve had been breaking back at Easter, under her son's continuing questions.

Contrary to Regulus' assumptions that he would be going to her the previous night, Severus didn't. While he had been unfair to lash out quite in the way that he did to her – he should have brought it up with a bit more tact, perhaps – at least he had managed to get the message across.

He wanted Lupin gone.

No way could he make a comment like _that_ and get away with it.

Severus would apologise or explain himself, whichever was more appropriate, following the inaugural Order meeting this weekend and, hopefully, _after_ she had had her words with Lupin; they could resolve it all in one fell swoop, that way, rather than continue with the long, drawn out back and forth that always had to take place over several days due to their need to keep their distance.

Or, at least, the appearance of it.

Severus pushed all those thoughts away; burying them, until the weekend, now that he had finally – somewhat – made peace with it. It was harder than he thought it would be, this time; harder than it was the first, the second time he had done it, returning to the Dark Lord's side. Now that he had a child involved. And Lily. If anything, having a reason not only to succeed but to _survive_ made playing and fighting all of this that much harder.

Severus glanced at Harry.

The boy's head was lowered, as he sat on one of the stools, obviously thinking very deeply about something. Severus hoped it was an attempt to get his emotions in check because his transparency had reached unthinkable levels that week – that _month_ – as he still seemed to reel in the aftermath of his father's demise.

Every lesson, it had been James Potter. He was everywhere, every time Severus had intruded into his mind. The boy was constantly haunted by James Potter's face. His face, yes, but never the man himself. Photographs, a man lying as good as dead in a hospital bed, a look of the purest loathing from someone else's – _his –_ memories.

Severus was certain he had seen the man more now, in death, in Harry's mind than he had during the entire time he had lived and attended school with him.

If only that were true.

Severus pushed aside the thought, sick to death of any thoughts about the damn Marauders, and turned his attention to Harry, instead.

Things were cordial between the two of them, they had been ever since their first encounter following their return to the school, but their interactions lacked the warmth that had been established prior to the holidays.

Severus supposed that was to be expected. While the boy had seemed to take him at his word, and demonstrated no fear whatsoever from him – which was, actually, proving to be rather an annoyance – but he remained somewhat closed off. But then, from his careful observations, he hadn't really been himself even out with these lessons.

Severus supposed, though, if it was the case that Harry sought to distance himself in light of what he now knew about him, it was better that way. He wasn't supposed to be building a relationship with him, after all.

That would be foolish.

Their interactions weren't quite the same, though, as they had been prior to the understanding they had developed on the last day of term. Rather, the whole ordeal over the summer and the ensuing knowledge Harry had gained in the aftermath had led to a confidence and an increase in _boldness_ from the boy, on occasion.

And, today, seemed to be one of those occasions.

"You mind is particularly open today, Mr Potter," Severus said, as he approached him once more.

"Isn't it always, Sir?"

Severus raised an eyebrow; "Especially so, this morning."

"Is this the part where you ask me my troubles and offer me a cup of tea?" Harry said, looking both playful and annoyed at Severus' observation all at once, which he tried not to be affected by.

"You have become very blasé in your choice of phrasing these past few weeks, Mr Potter," Severus said, though he did not find the behaviour quite so grating, now that he had finally put to rest his doubts about Grace; "Do not forget you are talking to a Professor, not a chum from your Quidditch team."

"Sorry for the offence. Sir."

"Sarcasm," Severus crossed his arms – when had Harry and Malachi decided he was someone who would tolerate such _cheek_ ; "Five points."

"Fine," Harry shrugged, speaking in a surly tone, that indicated obvious cheek, still, but there was sadness, there, too, that Severus couldn't quite place. The boy had been incredibly up and down ever since the lessons had resumed for the term.

"It is no wonder your mind is so penetrable with that attitude, Potter. Do we need to go back to the beginning?"

"The beginning?"

"A lesson on the benefits of controlling one's emotions."

Harry frowned, looking bewildered; "You never gave me that lesson."

"On the contrary, every minute spent with you is a demonstration of it."

Harry rolled his eyes at the jibe, crossing his arms across his chest, and Severus thought he was going to simply be silent and wait for Severus to resume the lesson, but, instead, Harry seemed to decide his words were an invitation to open up about his woes.

"It's my dad."

Severus rolled his eyes; "Tell me something I do not know, Mr Potter. I have been treated to unending images of the very man for weeks on end."

"He died," Harry bit out, eyes narrowing; "Pardon me for thinking about it a bit."

Severus was suitably cowed by the statement. Obviously, the boy would need to grieve. The kidnapping of the boy taking place the night of James Potter's funeral could not have been more poorly time. To lose a parent, at all, was difficult – Severus knew that – but under the circumstances in this instance, as well as the disaster in the aftermath, it was no wonder Harry had continued to dwell on it.

Harry Potter _was_ a person entirely ruled by his emotions, after all. Just like his mother. Severus would expect nothing less.

"Of course, Mr Potter," Severus conceded, uncrossing his arms and stepping with the intention of returning to his desk; "If you need a moment –"

"I don't need more moments!" Harry said, sounding incredibly exasperated when he did; "It wouldn't change anything. That he's gone."

"No. I suppose not. Nonetheless, sometimes it is necessary to do so. Your father was –"

"He was an arse!"

"Language, Potter. Or I shall have to take points."

Severus marvelled at his ability to maintain his own self-control and now show his complete surprise – not to mention his amusement – at the declaration made by the boy.

"That's all I have of him," Harry said, ignoring Severus' words and shaking his head; "What he did to you. That's the only memory I have and it's not even mine."

It wasn't amusing.

Any humour Severus felt sufficiently snuffed out by the apparent grief in the boy's eyes as he looked back at him.

It was cruel, that Harry should have to bear that. But, then, Severus could offer him nothing else about the man. Someone else could, of course. Lily or Remus Bloody Lupin – who else! – would be on hand to offer platitudes and delightful anecdotes about what a swell young man James Potter had been.

"I'm certain that if you were to go to your mother or, even, your Defence professor, an avid admirer of your father during our school years, they will be able to paint a more…flattering picture of your father than the one you have received from me."

Harry shook his head; "Like you said, Sir. Professor Lupin was an avid admirer," he said it as if it were a bad thing, before elaborating further; "I want to know who he was. What he was like. Really. Not something him or my Mum tell me to make me feel better. I want to know the truth."

Harry swallowed, before he drew in a breath as if he were bracing himself, and looked right at him; "You knew him, didn't you? Could you tell me about him?"

Severus was aghast at the request. Of all the things the boy could possibly ask.

"Potter, I am hardly an unbiased source," Severus said, as diplomatically as possible; "Surely you would rather hear the waxed poetics of those who cared for him rather than anything I have to say. I will not lie, there is nothing positive in it."

Harry looked away, seeming to ponder the words. After a few moments, he looked back at him; "You could help me remember."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I know what you can do, Malachi told me. You can help people get their memories back. Memories they've lost."

Orion. How on Earth had the boys gotten their hands on _that_. The Project was long ago dead and buried, following Eugene Hopkin's murder of Andromeda and the others at the Foundation.

_That day._

"Ah," Severus said, reluctantly elaborating on what Harry had discovered; "You are referring to a project I initiated many years ago. Your mother was, in fact, a Fellow assigned to it," that was not entirely true, no, but she would know about it, at least, due to the nature of Dorado; "As such, I once again urge you to turn to her regarding this matter."

"No," Harry said, refusing, as Severus knew that he would; "I can't wait until Christmas, that's too long. I need to see him, now."

"This impatience does you no credit, Potter," Severus said, his own exasperation seeping into his voice, because he was actually beginning to doubt his ability to fend off the boy's request. But to _not_ fend him off was unthinkable. He could not go into the boy's head and dig up the memories he had of his father. In light of their current circumstances – which Harry had no idea of – it seemed almost entirely immoral to do so.

"Do try and demonstrate some self-control; or did you learn nothing from your little ploy on the first day of term? Two months is nothing in the grand scheme of things."

"Please, Sir," Harry's voice turned pleading now, looking at him with pleading eyes, so much like his mother's, so much like his _sister's._ Those haunting green eyes; "Just…just help me?"

Severus drew in a breath, his resolve set.

The answer was no.

"Potter, the procedure is both invasive and highly personal, far more so than would make it appropriate for a teacher and student to engage in. Indeed, I'm quite certain the school regulations would require written permissions from your guardians before it could take place."

"Fine, I'll get them, then. I'll owl my Mum tonight."

"You'll do no such thing," Severus said, quickly. He could only just imagine Lily's response; "I have not agreed to this. Nor will I ever. Your memories of your father are private –"

"I don't have any memories of him, that's the point! They're in here but they're lost. I just…I just want to know who he was."

"Potter –"

"You owe me this. Alright? You're the one that gave me all of this crap about him!"

Severus' eyes narrowed, though he wasn't truly offended by the assertion. It was, partly, true, after all.

Even though Harry didn't know it, it _was_ him who instigated the Occlumency tutorials that had led to this particular revelation and Severus hadn't bothered to store his memories of James Potter away during the lessons – there were far more important memories that needed to be concealed, after all – and so, yes, maybe he did owe him an _apology,_ perhaps. But he didn't owe Harry what the boy was asking.

"I only gave you what I had of him, Potter. Believe me when I say that it is not something that I am at all thrilled to hold within my subconsciousness."

"Imagine how I feel, then," Harry said, his voice quiet, with a brokenness that it was impossible for Severus not to be affected by; "That was my dad."

The boy looked back at him, then, with such a look of desperation, of vulnerability, that it was impossible for Severus not to be moved by it. Harry looked at him – and there was _trust_ there, which still had the ability to throw him, when anyone should look at him like that – he looked at him as if Severus had all the answers, as if he was the only one in the world who could possibly rectify this wrong. For him.

And, Severus realised, that was perhaps entirely true.

Severus could help him.

Severus could find those memories. It would be _easy._ He knew exactly where to look. He knew exactly what Harry wanted him to find. They were not lost in the way that Orion was originally initiated to be of use; Severus could have him something, a hell of a lot in fact, within minutes.

Would Harry thank him for that, in a time long from now, when Severus was eventually revealed to him as Grace's father – as _his_ stepfather – that he had given those memories back to him. Or would he feel betrayed, rather, that Severus had been privy to them, this sacred relationship between father and son?

Severus pushed aside the thought because he could not make this about _him._

And, even if sentimentally was pushed aside, there was always the larger picture to consider. Harry had been plagued by these thoughts for weeks and they were, quite clearly, affecting his ability to think clearly. They had gotten almost nowhere since their lessons had resumed in September.

This would help that, if Severus did as he asked. If he helped put this ghost to rest.

Severus eyed Harry, uneasily. Uneasy because, he knew, he was standing here rationalising it in his mind; the reasons he _would_ help him do this.

And, once it got _that_ far, there was obviously no other conclusion.

"Owl your mother," Severus finally said; "Explain it. In detail. If she consents, we'll move forward from there."

Harry's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what Severus had just said.

"Really?" he said, before his expression went from broken to _delighted_ in a second flat.

Severus had to fight very hard not to smile back under such a beaming one as _that_. But he was, by no means, delighted, himself, by this turn of events.

Really. This boy!

"I'll owl her now," Harry turned, as if to make quickly from the room, and Severus caught him by the arm.

"Patience, Potter," Severus drawled, and Harry looked at him with a frown. Severus raised his eyebrow; "We are still in the middle of a lesson."

"Well. Can I be excused, then, to go?"

"No. You may not."

Harry's shoulders dropped, and he made to protest, but he caught himself at Severus' unamused expression, realising – correctly – that he really ought not to push him, now, as the deal was by no means set in stone.

Harry nodded, smiling at him – the first this term – and he rolled his eyes; "Alright."

Severus nodded at the middle of the room; "Prepare yourself."

Harry did as he was told.

The lesson resumed and Severus was treated to a further twenty minutes of James Bloody Potter flashing on by through the boy's memories – the boy utterly unable to get his emotions about the man under control _now –_ but Severus flattered himself to think that these memories were really not so terrible.

Not, in light, of the ones that were due to show up next.

* * *

Regulus fingered through the parchments he was reading with disinterest.

He should be delighted with them, he had been chasing up further information on Blood Magic for months, after all, and today, after all of the searching, these had finally turned up on his desk, a contact across the pond seeing to it for him. Not that it was a guarantee of being anything useful, of course; Regulus would have to comb through it all, carefully, before he could be sure either way.

As it was, though, Regulus' mind could not be further from the task at hand – far, far away tucked up beneath the covers of a very inviting bed, crappy mattress be damned, with a woman he could not stop thinking about, no matter how hard he tried – and he had lost count of the number of times he had read and reread the very first paragraph of the parchment; he had resorted to skimming but, even then, nothing was getting through.

Regulus tossed the parchments aside and leaned back in his chair, tucking his hand behind his head.

This wouldn't do.

He was way, way too distracted for this to be _normal_.

Regulus glanced at the timepiece, wondering if it was too early to duck out. Pointless, if he were to, though; Julia was working late.

Regulus smirked at his own thoughts, shaking his head, but it wasn't funny. Not at all.

Perhaps he _should_ just head out, go down to a bar or a club or something – definitely not the pub he had frequented so much, recently – and pick up someone else, a random, and try to drive Julia from his mind with the arms of another.

He felt nauseous at the thought. Nauseous! It wasn't unheard of for him to have multiple women on the go, sometimes on the very same night, and now he was shrinking away at the thought of being with another woman, as if Julia Bradbury was the one and only for him.

This was crazy.

No way was he in that deep.

Regulus got to his feet.

He'd prove it. Any other woman would do, surely.

He began to step around the side of the desk but was halted within a few steps by the sight of a bright silvery Phoenix, sweeping into the room.

* * *

The minute Lily walked into the unexpected Order meeting, her eyes sought him out, and Remus wasn't surprised.

He'd been enduring Severus' withering glowers for weeks, now, and, obviously, Lily would eventually hear about it, the little spat between the two of them. If Snape was offended by _that_ conversation, heaven help him if he ever heard the true extent of what Remus actually thought about him and the way he'd devastated the lives of two – three – of the people Remus loved most in the world.

Lily gave him a smile when their eyes met, though it didn't quite meet her eyes – a red flag to him, of the delightful conversation ahead – and approached him where he stood; "Remus."

"Hey."

His own smile came easily.

"Can I talk to you?" she said, not wasting a moment, her eyes glancing uneasily around the room, as people filtered in through the door. Severus, of course, was there and Remus caught him eyeing them from the corner of the room, where he stood with Regulus Black.

"Mhm." Remus shrugged, and the two of them headed back out into the hallway and down the corridor to the smaller room at the back. It was empty, luckily enough – well, maybe not so, depending on how this was about to go – and Lily uttered a ' _muffilato'_ while Remus shut the door.

He turned to face her, finding her standing arms crossed in the middle of the room and regarding him with a very familiar expression – exasperation – and he knew that the conversation was about to get unpleasant rather quickly.

Still, it always started amicably enough.

Remus gave her a grin; "I know that look."

Lily released a puff of air, her lips twitching; "Yes, you do."

"I suppose I hurt his feelings a bit, then?"

"Both of you need to stop this."

"I'm not going to mince my words for him," Remus said, unapologetically, crossing his arms; "As if I don't have to watch my mouth enough on Severus Snape's behalf."

"Severus doesn't want you coming to the house anymore."

It stung, Remus had to admit. That it had finally come to this.

He swallowed, keeping his eyes on hers; "I suppose you've summoned me here to issue my banishment notice, then?"

"No. Of course not," Lily sounded annoyed, as if that were something obvious.

It _wasn't_ obvious. There was no 'of course' about it; she had kicked Sirius to the curb for Snape, after all. Still, Remus was relieved.

Lily's voice was soft rather than accusing when she asked; "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing I wouldn't say again."

"Remus."

Remus shrugged; "Only that he ought to be there for you. For the kids. If hurts to hear that, that's his problem."

Lily shook her head, her eyes closing, as if the words themselves brought the weight of the world upon her shoulders; "You know he can't do that, Remus."

"No," Remus wouldn't stand for it, the excuses; "I know he's _chosen_ not to, the both of you. There's a difference," he shook his head, before asserting what Lily had to realise, before this whole thing either came crumbling down or _blew up_ completely; "This isn't as out of your hands as you would have yourself believe it is."

"You don't seriously think Severus could just walk away from him, Remus?" Lily said, eyes flashing with a familiar fire that told Remus he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, before the argument had even really begun; "Now, when he's finally resurfaced."

"Oh, that's a new one," Remus could barely keep from scoffing; "A few months ago, you said the reason you couldn't tell Harry was because you couldn't tell him Voldemort was coming back and coming for him. Well, he's back and he's _been_ for him and Harry knows it all. Now, all of a sudden, it's about Severus' safety?"

"It's about _everyone's_ safety. Harry's, Grace's, Severus'; nothing good could ever come of it."

"I couldn't agree more, Lily. I said as much, _years_ ago. And yet here we are; surface zero, or it very soon will be."

Lily shot him a look; "You're being a little overdramatic."

" _I'm_ being overdramatic?" Remus was incredulous, considering the absolute circus she had them all jumping through hoops in for her; "This coming from the one who's put her whole life on hold for a fantasy."

"A fantasy?" Lily snapped; "You think _this_ is a fantasy?"

She was offended and Remus knew why; it was an accusation made in her direction more than once before, and not just about Snape, either, but James as well. But, then, it had taken almost losing Harry back then to finally snap her out of _that_ delusional mindset and this one was far, far worse.

"It doesn't matter what I think about it," Remus said, trying to push her a little and make her see sense; "What matters is what _you_ think. What _you_ feel. You can't seriously be _happy,_ Lily. Seven years of secrets and lies, with no end in sight! Next thing you know, it won't be Harry we're talking about telling, it'll be Grace!"

Lily shook her head, her infuriating stubbornness unyielding under his pleas; "We can't tell him. Not now."

"Not now?" Remus repeated; "It's been _seven years._ If you and Severus couldn't do this, if you couldn't _be_ together, then you should never have done all of this in the first place. You should have walked away." Oh, how Remus regretted not standing with Sirius back then and making her see what it was she was getting herself into; "But no, instead, you do all of this, you bring _Grace_ into the world. He fathered your child and now he just walks out on her? I know he's left her, Lily, she told me."

"So, what should we do, then, Remus?" Lily lifted her hands at her sides, in a helpless gesture; "What do you say we should do, since you seem to think it's all so easy?"

"I think you need to make a choice and stick with it. I think the two of you can't keep doing this half way. Either you're in or you're out. Stop dancing around it, for Merlin's sake, and put your money where your mouth is."

"It's not that simple."

"It is that simple. If you want to be together, be together. If you can't, then don't. Don't flit back and forth and curse the world for all your misfortunes. You made this mess. And, what, you expect the rest of us to just go down quietly? You think Harry isn't going to go _ballistic_ when he finds all this out?"

"We'll deal with that when it comes to it."

"Lovely," Remus clapped his hands together; "Can't wait. Alright for you, his mother, he's never going to walk away from _you_."

"That's…Remus."

A heavy silence fell upon them at his assertion. At the very heart of the matter. Lily was asking him to lie to Harry, for her, and he was going to lose that boy over it. The writing was on the wall, the outcome of all of this inescapable.

There was no going back.

Lily drew in a breath; "I know that it's not fair, what I'm asking you to do –"

"Oh, don't patronise me, Lily," Remus interrupted her, lifting up a hand, because he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear any _gratitude_ from her, over how he was unwillingly throwing his relationship with Harry under the bus, just so she and Snape could carry on with their dirty little secret.

Remus shook his head, heart pounding so hard he was sure she'd hear it; "Just make up your bloody mind. Everything, _everything_ that Harry and I have is based on trust. It's not blood. It's not family –"

"Oh, that's not true, Remus, you can't seriously think Harry doesn't consider you his family. You practically raised him with me."

"Sirius raised him, not me."

"He loves you just as much as he did Sirius. As much as he does _me_. He knows there's nothing he couldn't come to you about –"

"Yes, exactly. That's exactly it, Lily. He came to me. He looks at me and I'm lying to him and for _what_? For _this?_ A relationship that the two of _you_ won't even go all in for?"

"That's not how it is, Remus. We'd be married if it weren't for Voldemort."

"If it weren't for Voldemort. If it weren't for Hopkins. If it weren't for James," Remus shook his head, as he fired them out one after the other, _more_ excuses; "For Merlin's sake, just bloody well _do_ it. If you mean it, marry him, for crying out loud and just put an end to this once and for all. What the hell are you waiting for?"

Lily stared back at him, pondering the words, and for a moment Remus thought that maybe she wasn't so far gone. Maybe, he _could_ get through to her and make her see that they couldn't go on like this any longer. They couldn't keep lying and sneaking around and pretending that everything was going to be alright, that all of this was worth it, they had to make a choice. Now or never.

And if they _couldn't_ she had to see that Snape would just have to walk. Let them go and live the life they deserved before it was too late. Not make them wait for him, not a minute longer, for this fantasy they had promised one another.

"Alright," Lily said, sounding resigned; "Alright, let's say I tell Harry. Let's say he learns the truth and Severus comes home and Voldemort sees it. What then? We know he's coming after Harry, we both know about the prophecy. So, Severus' loyalties are revealed; if we're lucky, he survives it, either way Harry's blind, we're all blind when he finally comes after him. Severus _needs_ to be where he is. It's the best chance we've got."

"Of survival, perhaps, but of living? Is _this_ a life? What about Grace? Snape walked out of her life this year and it's hurting her; can't you _see_ that? She asked me for him every day this summer!"

"You're the one that said it wasn't fair for him to be at the house, for him to be with us."

"With you two, yes, but I didn't mean he should walk out on Grace! I meant _tell_ _Harry_ , for Merlin's sake, not make _more_ lies!"

"He's not ready. Severus' preparing him but he's not ready yet."

"Preparing him," Remus repeated, shaking his head, the statement only reminding him of all Harry was enduring under that man's 'guidance'; "You don't see them at that school, Lily. He's his stepfather, as good as, and all he sees is a Marked Boy. Someone he has to train up; a mission. Harry, he's supposed to be his stepson. Not a soldier."

"Oh, is that how you want him to treat him now? As if you wouldn't have a problem with that?"

"You think I'd rather see him treated like crap than step aside, so he can be treated like a human being?" Remus fired back, furiously; "I'm flattered, Lily, really. Great to know you think so highly of me."

"I only meant –"

"I know what you meant," Remus bit out; "Frankly, it doesn't matter either way; whether I step aside or get _thrown_ aside. Because that's where we're going, whatever the outcome of this, so don't think I'm making this about me," Lily was frowning and shaking her head but it was the truth, he knew it and she knew it; "I know I'm out, Lily. This is about Harry."

"You're not 'out', Remus."

"Not yet."

"Is that what this is?" Lily asked, stepping towards him; "You're angry at me because you think Harry's going to blame you for all of this?"

"He won't blame me, no. I actually think he's got brains enough to understand it," Remus said, before he shrugged, the words spoken next bringing a churn to his stomach because they were so true and inevitable that it already hurt; "But he won't trust me. Never again, not after this. And he shouldn't. It's unforgivable," he drew in a breath, shaking his head; "And yes, Lily, I'm angry. I'm so very, very angry about that. It's not just you going down in all of this, you're dragging me and Harry and Grace down with you; the only difference is you and Severus – you're going to be just fine. It's the rest of us that have to pick up the pieces."

Lily stared back at him, utterly silent and clearly hurt by the words spoken, but she needed to hear it. She needed to. Remus had held all this back too long and it wasn't to her benefit, not at all, that he had done so. He should have made her see all of this, long ago, before it got this far.

Lily averted her eyes and there was a glimmer there and Remus felt awful but at least he'd gotten through to her, a bit. At least she wasn't in that familiar fiery, stubborn rage about it all; she was hearing him. It was almost as if she was just too tired, too broken to fight anymore.

Remus drew in a breath, because it would take more than words or an argument to make her see what she was doing to herself. To those kids.

"Tell your boyfriend I'll stay away."

Lily looked at him sharply; "What?"

"You heard me. From the house. From Grace. From you. Not Harry, though. I'm there until he sends me away."

Lily shook her head, looking utterly appalled by his declaration; "No. Remus –"

Remus shook his head, lifting up a hand to silence her and letting it fall back to his thigh in a slap; "Why postpone the inevitable?"

She stared at him, as if she had a million things to say but couldn't find the words, and he knew one of them was to ask him to stay but he couldn't. He couldn't _watch_ all of this anymore. Sirius had got it right, back then, to walk away. Remus couldn't be part of this. He wouldn't.

Remus had better leave.

If he lingered too long his resolve would waver and, honestly, he didn't think he could do it, if Lily should try to persuade him not to go. He straightened up and walked towards her, to walk on by, but her hand caught him by the wrist.

"Don't go," Lily said, firmly, eyes determined as she looked straight up at him; "I don't want you to."

Remus lowered his eyes. He drew in a breath, steadying himself, before he met hers once more; "When you figure out what you want, and _do it,_ then you'll know where to find me."

Lily opened her mouth, as if to speak, but he shook his head and pressed the briefest of kisses to the top of her head and walked on by her.

Remus heard her say his name as he opened the door, but he didn't look back.

Even _he_ couldn't believe that he had just walked away.

* * *

There was a yellow flower in the window.

Severus approached the house, slowly, doing the careful checks of the surrounding area as he did so, before he stepped through the door into the kitchen.

Lily was there. Waiting for him, no doubt, sitting at the table and staring at nothing. She didn't even look up when he entered the room.

Severus knew _this_ particular pattern very well. Seven years – longer, if one counted the fiery exchanges between them in their youth – did not leave him impervious to the signs.

Lily was very angry.

Severus sat down on the chair opposite.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Where is Grace?"

"Julia's."

Severus fought back the urge to point out that Grace should be here, always, where it is safe, under the protection of the Fidelius, but he had better pick his battles carefully that night. He knew better than to question the faith she had in another friend at that particular moment.

Lupin had returned to the Order Meeting looking upset.

Lily had not returned to the meeting at all.

Severus had a fair idea of what had happened. Whatever had gone down had led to Lupin-Unleashed, and he had been treated to undisguised glowers of loathing throughout the entirety of the meeting whenever their eyes happened to meet, which was often, considering Severus knew whatever Lupin had said to her was the reason for her absence.

"I assume you spoke with Lupin, then?"

Lily visibly tensed; "Mhm."

Severus just waited, acutely aware that if he were to say anything more, it would probably result in a very hefty explosion, judging by the way she was glowering at the unsuspecting fruit bowl in the middle of the table.

Eventually, Lily drew in a breath, her voice tight with restrained anger.

"Remus won't be coming to the house anymore."

Severus didn't say anything for a moment.

And then he did.

"Good."

Lily met his eyes, sharply, and – oh goodness – she was utterly furious.

"What the hell am I supposed to tell Grace?" she grounded out.

Severus only shrugged.

"As if she hasn't lost enough," Lily muttered, under her breath, as she averted her eyes.

The comment stung, the blatant nod in the direction of his absence; "It is hardly the same thing."

"It'll still upset her, Severus. I can't have him in Harry's life but not Grace's, that's not fair. Not on any of them."

Severus eyed her; "From what I can see it is yourself that is upset."

Lily looked at him, _glowered_ at him; "I'm not allowed to be upset that my oldest friend just walked out on me?"

Severus pursed his lips together; "That was not my intention."

It wasn't. Not really. He had wanted Lupin to step back, to stay away from his daughter, to stop loving Lily. To _shut up._

He didn't, necessarily, want them to cut ties.

He wasn't _upset_ about it, obviously. But Lily was and Severus knew he had, he always had, asked to much of her, by agreeing to even do this whole thing in the first place.

"I did not mean for you to end the friendship," Severus said, glancing away.

"It wasn't me that ended it," Lily said, quietly, this time, but just as angry as before.

Severus looked at her closely. He didn't like to see her upset. He especially didn't like to see her upset over Remus Lupin. More than that, still, he didn't like to see her upset over something _he_ had done.

"What did he say?" Severus finally asked.

Lily closed her eyes; "It doesn't matter."

"It does. Clearly. You are obviously affected."

Lily drew in a trembling breath, eyes still closed, and then she frowned and opened them, meeting his look. She nodded, as if he had made a suggestion, as if something was suddenly clear.

"We have to tell Harry. Tonight."

Severus frowned; "What?"

Lily got to her feet, turning away from him, picking up a pace in the middle of the floor; "We have to tell him about us. About Grace."

Severus got to his feet, crossing his arms and glancing, surreptitiously in the direction of the timepiece that told him it was well past midnight; "Lily."

"It's what I want," Lily said, turning back to face him, and her voice was firm but her movements were erratic, as if whatever Lupin had said had sent her _spinning,_ and Severus had a fair idea of what had been exchanged between them, now, in the light of this sudden outburst.

"It's what you want too, right?" Lily pressed, looking at him, and asking him a question she already knew the answer to, as if that would make the path of action obvious; "You and me, Harry and Grace."

"Of course, that's what I want," Severus conceded, uncrossing his arms with a sigh; "That's what we're fighting all of this for."

"I don't want to fight anymore. I'm sick of fighting," Lily declared, shaking her head; "Why fight for it when we could have it _right now?"_

"Obviously Lupin's been filling your head with idyllic unrealities," Severus rolled her eyes, unable to help himself.

"This isn't about Remus, Severus, this is about _us,"_ Lily said, casting her worries about Lupin aside; "It has always been about us and what we're doing. And Remus is right. We can't go on like this any longer, it's gone too far."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly, eyes squeezing shut, before he dropped his hand and stepped closer; "Lily, we have talked about all of this before. This, _exactly this,_ is what has been said between us from the beginning."

"Not _this,_ Severus, you surely couldn't have imagined this is how we would have ended up. Neither of us could have."

Severus pursed his lips together, uncertain how best to counter the argument, because, really, he couldn't. He had always been of the mind that Lily had been insane to pursue this. He had held her off for months before he had finally given in and now, _now_ , suddenly it was _he_ who was responsible for all of this?

Severus turned away from her, lest he voice the thought.

"We can stop it," Lily said, surely. Delusional, certainly, but with utter certainty in her voice when she went on; "If we told Harry now, we could stop it. Have what we've always said we wanted."

Severus shook his head, turning back to her, and his voice was soft, apologetic, when he spoke, because, of course, he wanted it to be true, for it to be that easy, but it wasn't, and it would never be. Severus had known that from the start. He had _told_ her that from the start.

"Lily. He's not ready."

"When _will_ he be ready?" Lily burst out, in her exasperation, her _desperation;_ "When he's fifteen, sixteen, _sixty?"_

"It is not about his age or his maturity or his feelings on the matter, it is about his safety and his skills. You saw how easily the Death Eaters picked him up this summer. He can't keep the Dark Lord out, Lily, and until he can, sufficiently enough that he has _some_ mental barriers, at least, he won't be able to keep this quiet."

"So, what, never then? Time just keeps ticking by, we keep lying, and the next thing you know Grace is leaving home having never seen her father for years, and Harry couldn't care less what has gone on because he's long gone with a family of his own?"

"It won't last that long."

Perish the thought.

"It's lasted _this_ long," she said and her voice broke, the weight of it all crushing down, finally, after all of these years of bearing up under it, and she closed her eyes, turning her head to the side, as she made an attempt not to break down entirely.

Severus had expected this. She had lasted far longer than he had thought she would. But it was too much; even he struggled with it, the weight of it all. Walking out on her, walking out on Grace, brushing shoulders with those who meant to kill them if they should ever get the chance.

They would _never_ get the chance.

The thought was sufficient enough to remind him exactly what it was he was fighting for. And even if he wasn't _with_ them, if Lily couldn't do this anymore, there was no way he would walk away from all of this and leave them unprotected. He would fight this fight until his dying breath, if he had to, so long as he was doing everything in his power to keep his family safe.

Severus sighed, stepping towards her, and taking her hands in his. Lily drew in a breath, one that still trembled, and there was such vulnerability in her eyes as she looked up at him that he hated himself. He hated himself for doing this to her. He should have fought harder, pushed harder to keep her away, all those years ago.

"He'll never be ready," Lily said, quietly, and her eyes glimmered; "No matter when we do it, no matter how, it's going to hurt him."

Severus nodded, conceding the truth; "Yes. At this point, that is inevitable." He squeezed her hands, before he went on, not wanting to bring _further_ realities down upon them, but Lily had to see sense; "But we can't tell him _now,_ Lily. The Dark Lord is aware of the connection the two of them share and who knows how or when he is going to use it – though we can be certain that he _will –_ and it may not even be necessary, in that case, for the Dark Lord to get his hands upon Harry at all to learn the truth."

"You said before that he can't tap into their connection at will."

"With an emotional jolt such as _that,_ it would surely lead to some stirring of the mind link between them."

Lily pressed her face into his chest, seeking comfort, and he reached up, hand going to the back of her head.

"Well, when, then?" she spoke into his robes; ""When will there _not_ be this link between them? When _will_ Harry be ready to know all of this?"

"When it's over. When he's dead."

Lily released a breath that could have been a laugh, and she shook her head, her face still pressing into his chest as she did, before she drew back to look up at him; her cheeks were wet with tears she hadn't been able to hold back while he held her.

"And how long will that be?" she shrugged; "Another seven years? Ten? Fifteen? Before we know it, they'll be gone and we'll have lost all this time with them. You'll have lost all this time with Grace."

Severus shook his head, swallowing hard; "We've always known it had to be this way."

No family.

No children.

He could never have it.

It chilled him, how very right he had been when he had declared it to it, a cold November night recovering from his own near-brush with death. The night this had all begun.

"What a mess," Lily breathed, pressing a hand to her forehead. She gave a humourless smile, shaking her head; "No wonder Remus decided to walk away."

"So can you."

Severus had to say it. He had to say it as he thought it because, hell, if he stopped to _think_ about what it could lead to, before he said the words, he would never have the strength to do so. And he _had_ been thinking about it, all of it, how he had stepped away to protect Grace, how he kept away to protect Harry. But the children were not the only ones who needed to be protected.

And it would be better for her, for Lily, he knew, if she would just let him go. He had _always_ known that.

Lily looked at him, sharply, as if she couldn't believe what he had just said; "What?"

Severus only held her look, held his ground, needing her to know that, yes, that _was_ an option. She could walk. She always could. This had to be her choice. She wasn't shackled to this life, not if she couldn't do it anymore.

Lily's expression turned from one of disbelief to one of utter betrayal in a second flat. She laughed, laughed without any humour whatsoever, and pressed her hands to her face as she shook her head.

"Oh, what a night!"

She turned from him, her words almost a snarl when she spoke, and she stepped away from him.

"Lily –"

She rounded on him, furiously; "Is that what you want? For this to be over?"

"Of course not!"

"Right. So, you just casually throw out that, 'oh, hey, Lily, let's just call it quits now, why don't we', without any damn thought or emotion about it at all?"

"There is nothing casual about it," Severus crossed his arms; "Nor is it without thought. Certainly, neither of us could have predicted exactly this, but we predicted close enough to it. Even so, we are a long way from where we started."

"Here was me thinking we were fighting for something worth having. Is this what you've always been thinking? That you'd just close the door on us when it got too difficult?"

"I don't want you feeling trapped by these circumstances over promises made between us back then," Severus attempted to explain, past her outrage; "Words, spoken in the comfort of one's chambers, are nothing in comparison to the reality of a situation and I have seen how you've struggled. How you still struggle –"

"I'm not –"

"I don't say it as condemnation of your handling of the situation, don't misunderstand me. _I_ have struggled with it. I still struggle with it," it was difficult to say out loud, but she had to hear it, if only so she would admit to herself that that was what was happening here; "You know what I want. But I meant everything I said that night, when I told you that you deserved better than _this_. I still do and I assume Lupin said as much to you, as well? It is one of the few things we agree on. This is the reality of the path we have taken. It has led us here," he shook his head; "But you don't have to stay."

Lily looked straight back at him, her gaze certain, as steadfast as it was that night when she had gone toe to toe with him over this the first time; "I'm not walking away from this, Severus."

It was impossible for Severus to be either glad or saddened by the statement. By her continuing willingness to endure this. For them. For him.

Severus lowered his eyes.

Lily stepped towards him, into his arms, and he held her close.

But he knew, he knew, that this wouldn't be the end of it. They were already breaking, and the war hadn't even started yet.

It was only a matter of time.


	54. November 1994: Bad Moon Rising

Sleep was impossible.

It was late when Lily had eventually gone up to bed, Severus urging her to go on up, following their – what was it, a discussion, an argument, an almost-break up – following whatever _that_ was, the night before. Though she had only herself to blame, not only for the previous night's drama but for all of this, really; Remus was right on the money when he slammed her with his statement that she had made this mess.

_She_ had.

And she knew that Severus had only just barely held back from casting the very same accusation in her direction the night before as well.

And so, she had gone up to bed, still as wired and agitated as she had been during the exchanges, and spent the whole of the night, tossing and turning – wide, wide awake – as she tried to untangle it all in her mind and think _rationally_ about it all, because the emotions were running far too hot when she had spoken to both Remus and Severus. But even then, looking at the cold reality of it all, she was still struggling, just as Severus had claimed she was.

It came down to one simple question; the bottom line of it all. Was Harry's trust too high a price for Grace's safety – her life, if it should come to it – and, no, up against stakes as great as that, it wasn't.

Everything, every attempt she had made to protect and prevent Harry from being targeted by Voldemort, years and years ago, before this had all even really started; it had all led to the very event Lily had sought to prevent. Her desperate – emotional _, irrational –_ response to learning about the prophecy leading her to put into motion the very events that had led to Regulus' defection, Regulus and Malachi having to flee, Sirius being killed trying to conceal them and Harry, finally, being Marked.

Regulus didn't blame her for all of that, no, citing that she was being ridiculous – he would have fought tooth and nail for Malachi's safety, too – when she had tried to apologise to him for it all, but Lily did. The reality of those consequences, as well as what was happening now, weighed heavily upon her.

Every single day.

The loss of four lives, potentially, already on her hands if the Fidelius should fail and she'd be damned if she did anything that would put her daughter on Voldemort's hit list, as well.

But Remus was right when he said they would lose him over this.

The better of two evils, Lily thought, bitterly, and flung the bedclothes from herself and got to her feet. It was just past six in the morning and there was no point in trying to sleep, now, what with Grace due to be collected in just a couple of hours.

Lily headed downstairs.

"Ah."

Lily looked up sharply when she heard the voice, just as her foot hit the last step into the kitchen, immediately seeing Severus sitting at the table; exactly where she had left him the night before.

Severus lifted his chin, in greeting; "I had expected that you would find it impossible to sleep and be pacing up and down the house all night."

"You stayed?" Lily frowned, walking towards him; "Why didn't you come up to bed?"

Severus pulled out the chair next to him, leaving his hand on the back of it when she sat down upon it beside him; "You were overwrought. I thought it best to give you some time."

Lily sighed, meeting his eyes and shaking her head; "I'm sorry."

Severus shook his head, brow furrowing; "Lily, you don't have to –"

"No. I do," Lily asserted, so, so glad that Severus _had_ stayed, so that she could say this; "I don't want you thinking that I'm not sure about all of this. I…I was overwrought," she rolled her eyes; "Just as you said."

"What did Lupin say to you?"

"Well if you've been sitting here stewing all night, I think you could have probably already worked it all out."

"Yes. But I should like to hear it all the same."

"That I'm going to lose Harry. That he's going to lose Harry," Lily said, shrugging and looking down; "That it's gone on too long. That we should be married, if that's what we really want. That we're not committed to this."

Lily felt Severus' hand on her shoulder, slipping from where it had been resting on the back of the chair; "What would Lupin know about our commitment to one another?"

Lily released a breath and shook her head, looking away; "I know. I was being stupid."

"No. You weren't. Lupin was overstepping. Interfering where his opinion does not belong. I shall speak with him."

"No, you won't," Lily looked at him, sharply; "I already spoke to him and he's doing as you asked. He's staying away."

"I find that _very_ hard to believe," Severus stated, eyes lifting towards the ceiling; "No doubt Lupin will be sticking his nose into our business from here until the end of time."

"He won't be here," Lily said, knowing that Remus had meant it all, despite what Severus was saying; "He won't be seeing Grace."

Severus eyes lowered at the mention, a flash of guilt; "Do you truly feel that she will mourn that loss?"

"Yes," Lily confessed; "But I told him not to go –" Severus met her eyes; "- and he went, anyway. So, maybe it's better for us all this way. Whatever you thought of him, we can't deny that it wasn't fair to him, not really, for us to ask all of this of him."

"We didn't ask him anything," Severus pointed out; "We told him nothing. Had he not been snooping into our business he would never have learned of it in the first place."

Lily couldn't help the little bubble of laughter; "He wasn't snooping, he came upon us while we were out in the very open!"

Severus shrugged; "I can obliviate him, if it would make it easier for his feeble mind to deal with it."

Lily smiled, shaking her head and lowering her eyes. She drew in a breath, remembering further what Severus had said to her the night before, before she turned in her seat to face him; "That thing you said last night. About me walking away."

Severus' chin lifted ever so slightly, eyes squinting for a second, at the recollection of it as he looked straight back at her; telling her he had meant it. That he s _till_ meant it.

Lily shook her head; "I don't want you thinking that that's an option."

Severus said nothing, only looked back at her, entirely pokerfaced.

Lily leaned closer; "It's you and me, alright. I know that we can do this." She felt the thumb of the hand upon her shoulder move in a gentle caress against her skin, but even then, Severus' non-expression barely flickered.

"I don't want you ever thinking that you're alone in this," her voice quiet but no less sincere than if she were to stand and shout it from the rooftops; "I'm _with_ you. Always."

Severus held her look but it took a few moments for his straight-faced expression to soften and, when it did, he released a breath – almost a sigh – and the hand that caressed her shoulder reached up to cup her cheek, another caress, before he took her by the nape of the neck and drew her to him; closed the short distance between them and pressed his lips to hers.

It was soft and sound, an acceptance that he knew that she meant it – and she did, she always had – and he lingered, forehead pressing to hers, when they drew apart.

She smiled at him; a small smile tugging at his lips in turn and then he nodded, drawing back fully, to straighten where he sat.

Lily glanced around the room, her eyes quickly coming upon the owl she had received from Harry, where she had left it next to the sink. She raised her eyebrows, standing and going to retrieve it; "I received a letter from Harry yesterday." She held it up, as she made her way back towards him.

Severus leaned back, nodding, knowingly; "Ah."

"Yes," Lily said, lips twitching; "Apparently he needs my permission for some sort of 'experimental mind magic with Professor Snape', as he so put it."

Severus scoffed; "That boy."

Lily giggled, unfolding it and putting it on the table between them, though Severus didn't bother to reach for it, now that they both knew Harry hadn't been entirely upfront with her in his writing; "What experiments were you planning on carrying out upon my son, Professor Snape?"

Severus met her eyes, looking at her for a moment, and then he glanced away; "He has asked me to use the findings of Orion to help him locate some memories he may have lost regarding his father."

Utter silence filled the room at the explanation.

A pin dropping would sound as if a bomb had went off.

Lily frowned; "And you agreed to that?"

Severus looked at her, giving a shrug; "Only if his mother does. It is highly invasive. You know the procedure."

"More invasive than legilliemency?"

"Legilliemency is necessary when training to occlude. This is not."

Lily drew in a breath; "He's still struggling with it, then? With James? His death?"

"It seems so."

"Do you think this would help him?"

"It would answer some questions. And would provide him with something tangible. Something other than second hand stories and accounts that he may have learned elsewhere."

Lily nodded, slowly, considering his words, before she met his eyes; "And you would do that for him?"

"If you should wish it."

Lily looked back at him, carefully, because she knew exactly what Orion was – it was the first step to Dorado, that had never been completed, in her earlier attempts to revive her late husband – and she knew what Harry was asking of Severus, here, even if Harry didn't; "You know you'll see some things, Severus. It won't just be James and Harry."

Severus met her eyes.

She went on, needlessly, she knew, and stated; " _I'll_ be there."

"I am aware," Severus conceded.

"You won't want to see that."

"Most likely not."

"But you'll do it."

"As I said," Severus was beginning to sound exasperated; "I do have to say, sometimes is very evident just who that boy's mother is."

Lily gave him a playful slap on the arm and he smiled, raising an eyebrow; "Do we have your consent?"

Lily nodded; "Yes. I'll write him this afternoon."

There was a knock at the door.

A door that only a handful of people in the world ought to be able to see.

Severus was immediately on his guard. With a quick glance at the timepiece – confirming it was far too early for a regular social call – he got to his feet, not going to conceal himself, as he really should, but heading towards the door instead.

"Wait," Lily said and made to stop him, thinking that maybe it would be Julia with Grace, if she had been unsettled through the night.

But Severus didn't stop, going and peering carefully through the smallest of gaps in the blinds of the small window near the outside entrance. Severus drew back, frowningly, and then reached down, pulling the door open, widely, without hesitation.

Regulus was stood on the other side.

He took notice of Severus, quickly, the smile of greeting on his face quickly becoming a frown; "Severus."

Severus raised an eyebrow; "Regulus."

The two of them looked at one another, as if it were the strangest thing in the world for them to encounter one another here – which, really, it was, as they never had before – until Severus stepped aside a few moments later, and Regulus walked into the room.

He shot Lily a smile when he met her eyes; "Morning, Lily."

"Hey," she smiled, getting to her feet; "You're here very early."

"I know, I was hoping to catch you before Grace got home."

Severus frowned, closing the door; "How did you know she wouldn't be here?"

Regulus looked caught. But then he shrugged; "Order meeting."

"Have there been further developments regarding the horcruxes?" Lily asked him, assuming that was the reason for his visit.

"Ah, no," Regulus said, shifting a little and looking uncomfortable; "Actually –" he glanced at Severus, briefly, and Lily realised he really didn't want him to be there, for some reason. Regulus cleared his throat and stepped towards Lily, putting on an air of nonchalance; "I just wanted to ask if you could write down the address to the cottage."

Lily was surprised at the request. He had never asked for her to give up the location before, ever since the Fidelius charms on their respective homes had been enacted. But, obviously, she couldn't refuse, and it was none of her business _why_ he wanted her to, so she nodded; "Of course."

"Why?" Severus was not so reserved, stepping towards Regulus, looking suspicious.

Regulus closed his eyes and shook his head, already looking exasperated, as if he knew what was coming; "Because I need it for someone."

"It is obviously a woman," Severus said, managing to sound both amused and disapproving all at once. Lily fought a smile, suddenly realising where Regulus had learned of Grace's whereabouts the night before.

"I'll get a quill," Lily said, heading from the room.

She could hear Severus and Regulus' bickering voices, even from the living room, while she rummaged through the desk, and by the time she had written down the location for him and returned to the kitchen, both men looked irritated and were rolling their eyes at one another.

Lily held out the folded parchment to Regulus; "Here you go."

Her voice was light and her eyes sparkling, entirely sure she knew who the recipient of the words was to be, but she didn't say so – Regulus obviously wasn't happy about Severus knowing – and she smiled when he uttered a 'thanks', plucked it from her fingers and tucked it into the inside of his robes, patting his chest where it was now placed and shooting Severus a self-satisfied smile.

Severus eyed him, crossly, but said nothing.

Regulus rolled his eyes, chuckling, before giving Lily a smile; "I'll see you next week."

"Bye, Regulus," she said, barely holding back her own chuckles at the exchange, and he left, ignoring Severus' watchful eyes.

Lily allowed herself to laugh, giving Severus a shove, when the door clicked shut behind Regulus; "Leave him be."

"He is being an idiot."

"Oh, I think it's sweet."

"Sweet!" Severus repeated, scoffing; "He is supposed to be laying low. Instead, he flaunts about in the evenings in bars and goodness knows where else, spending the nights with randoms; he is practically begging to be caught. And now he decides it is appropriate to walk around with the written location of his protected hiding place upon his own person? Goodness knows who _that_ little piece of information is intended for but no good could come of it, he is entirely too trusting for his own good."

"He has only ever asked me once," Lily stated, reassuringly; "And isn't it better he is spending time with this person at home, under the protection of the Fidelius, rather than out and about on the streets looking for 'randoms', as you put it?"

Severus drew in a breath, glancing away from her, which was as close as conceding as he would allow, she knew.

Lily smiled, leaning up to give him a kiss; "I need to get ready. I have to collect Grace this morning before Julia's shift."

"Hm. I suppose I had better get back. No doubt Dumbledore will want to discuss the events of last night's meeting."

"Did I miss much?"

"No. Other than the Ministry disappearances, the Dark Lord is almost entirely off the radar and he has not yet summoned me with any request."

"That's good, right?"

"In some ways yes, in others no. Not that I am complaining, of course, for it will not last long. I find the quiet easy to endure in the meantime."

Lily couldn't agree more, the longer Voldemort let Severus be, the better.

"I shall see you at the Foundation next week," Severus said as he leaned down, giving her another – final – kiss, this time of farewell.

Lily nodded, squeezing his hand, briefly, before he turned and left the house.

* * *

Harry was fine.

He was _fine._

He wasn't totally bricking it, that he was finally going to be seeing his dad – for real, almost – for the first time in his whole life. Nope. Not at all.

It was what Harry had always wanted. To finally see and know the man who his mother, his Uncle Sirius, his Uncle Remus had always spoken so highly of.

Still, as much as he reasoned with himself that they were only memories – long ago passed – and that they really didn't change much, in the grand scheme of things, as his father was dead and buried and there was nothing that could be said or done that could change or make that better; as much as he even _believed_ it, he knew that this would _mean_ something great. It would mean the whole damn world, if he could finally just know who he was.

It was something that had plagued him since before he could even remember, the confusion he felt about the feelings he had regarding his dad. How he was told that James Potter was his father and that he loved him very much and would be with him if he could, and how Harry must love him in just the same way. There must be this connection between father and son. He must feel it.

Harry braced himself for disappointment.

Just because he was finally going to see James Potter, that didn't guarantee he was going to feel what he was supposed to feel.

Suppose Harry _hated_ what it was he and Snape found?

Suppose James Potter was a terrible husband, an impotent father?

Did Harry really want to know all of that?

He pushed aside the doubts because it was too late for them, now, as he stood readying himself in Snape's office.

Snape had not been surprised by the consent form he had presented to him at his Friday's occlumency lesson in the slightest. Had just given him a single nod and a time and place; the next day at seven am to commence the procedure and, so, here he was.

_Bricking it._

"So, how does this work?" Harry tried for nonchalance, as Snape moved about behind his desk, barely even acknowledging his presence.

"Have you looked into the written information I provided you with at our last lesson, Mr Potter?" Snape asked, as he opened up a small wooden case, the inside of it lined with six filled potion phials.

"Yes," Harry nodded; "Twice."

"Then you are aware that the process is as dangerous as it is invasive. You must work _with_ me Potter, which is something that goes directly against all that we have been attempting to achieve throughout our Occlumency tutorials," Snape lifted a phial from the box as he spoke, pouring the liquid into a goblet; "Should you attempt to resist, too forcefully, the repercussions would be unpleasant for both."

"Repercussions?" Harry repeated; "You mean, the part in here –" he lifted the parchments he had lain on the desk upon his arrival, flicking through them, "- that says we could become, well…brain dead?"

"The very one," Snape stated, clicking the case shut and stashing it away under his desk; "Though you are, of course, going to the more drastic of conclusions in that regard. That has only ever happened once, and I am not so foolish as to let it get quite as far as _that._ Considering this is a recreational exercise, the slightest suggestion of resistance on your part, and I will withdraw and that will be the end of it."

"But…well…what if we go to something I don't want to see? Or something that's…you know, scary? What if I see Vol –"

"Do not say the Dark Lord's name!" Snape interrupted him, quickly, his eyes flashing.

Harry pressed his lips together, realising the slip.

Snape eyed him, uneasily, for a moment and Harry wondered if, maybe, this 'Dark Lord' of his would actually be inside his head now, watching this very moment. Drawn to them by the mentioning of his own, forbidden-to-be-spoken-of title. He was pretty certain that Snape was worried about the very same thing.

"There is an element of control and consciousness in this procedure that one doesn't quite have when under the mercy of a legillimens. It is for this reason that you must work _with_ me here, Potter. We cannot both be attempting to pull in different directions."

Harry only nodded, his eagerness to get started rendering him totally obedient.

Snape approached him, the goblet he had filled held tight within his hand, and he nodded at the nearest chair; "Sit. The procedure requires a state of calmness. It may, in fact, be of benefit if you were to engage in a little of the meditation you claim you have managed to master over the summer."

Harry hesitated – maybe not quite so obedient – glancing at the armchair Snape had indicated; "Oh. Well…I wouldn't say I've _mastered_ it –"

"Sit and do it, Potter," Snape said, pinching the bridge of his nose, with obvious impatience.

Harry sat down.

He closed his eyes and attempted to clear his mind of all that he was feeling; his nervousness and his uneasiness, his excitement and the eager anticipation that had been gripping him ever since Snape had said that he would do this.

He was going to see his dad.

Snape cleared his throat and Harry opened his eyes.

The goblet Snape held was now suspended directly in front of him.

Harry eyed it for a few seconds, at how the potion within it shimmered and steamed in the dim light, but, just when it started to move away from him, the beginning of a disparaging comment on the Potion Master's lips, Harry quickly grasped it and downed the potion in one go.

Harry gagged, immediately, and quickly reached up to cover his mouth; as if that would stop the regurgitation, if it should come back up.

"Not the most pleasant of substances, indeed," Snape said, taking the goblet and heading back in the direction of his desk; "But it…effectiveness…a few moments…"

Snape's voice sounded far away.

Everything seemed far away.

Everything out with the confines of his own mind was fading away; Harry suddenly felt himself utterly relaxed and overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings, in touch with them in a way that even meditation had never managed to achieve.

Memories began to swirl around him, as if the only thing that even existed within this universe was himself and his mind and his tiny remaining morsel of connectedness to the outside world just fell away into a blur.

The first person Harry saw was Grace.

" _Look." His little sister's eyes were bright and delighted, sparkling as they looked at him, while feathers floated up from the bedclothes between them._

She was gone in a swirl, further memories rising up and fading out, his mum, his Uncle Remus, their faces and their voices.

" _He's dying isn't he? … Mum, are you okay?"_

" _Well, your dad, he was very bright. Incredibly loyal. And far too cocky for his own good."_

" _Do you love my mum?" He was suddenly very young and there was an ice cream in his hand as he looked innocently up at his Uncle Remus; "I wanted you to marry her."_

It blurred and began to fade but Harry tried to cling to it and it rippled, gaping apart and coming back together.

He was seeing everything through the eyes of the boy in the memories; feeling every emotion, every response to all that was taking place around him back then.

" _I don't think I love my dad at all!" The little boy – himself - burst into tears, a feeling of utter lostness and guilt overwhelming him, and pressed closely into Remus._

_His Uncle Sirius swirled into vision; "I don't want you to be scared, Harry, not for a second."_

" _But it's scary, Uncle Sirius."_

" _I know. But, you know, me and your mum, we have a really special little boy waiting at home for us and, hey, no way are we not gonna come home to that kid. 'kay?"_

Grief, it suddenly washed over him with such overwhelming intensity that Harry gasped, fighting back against the memories and it swirled out and broke apart, his Uncle Sirius' face the last thing to go before it suddenly became Malachi's. A much young Malachi.

" _Hi."_

" _I'm Harry."_

" _I'm Malachi."_

" _Was that your dad? …he looks like my uncle….so do you."_

" _I don't know him."_

_It swirled and faded and morphed into another, still him and Malachi; still little boys and an escapade Harry barely remembered._

" _I'm gonna go and look for Uncle Sirius…will you come?"_

" _Okay."_

_They were trekking through the fields, through the woods, on a train; Hagrid appeared in a flash and then Hogwarts, and Dumbledore in his office as he and Malachi sat huddled in the same chair eating sweets with delight. Suddenly, he was in someone's chambers and his mum was walking on by, and Snape was there –_

"Potter."

Snape's voice was suddenly clear as day in his mind and the memories levelled out.

His mind was entirely open to them, an ocean of memories floating on by, and darker corners and a distant horizon, and Harry was curious – he had just seen Snape and his mum, a second ago – and he pushed on _that,_ knowing that he could, now that Snape had spoken the incantation to grant access to them, and another memory came to him.

_His mum was sitting at a table and she was smiling widely at someone sitting opposite._

_Harry and Malachi were huddled beneath his invisibility cloak, peering at her through the window of the Foundation bistro._

_Harry, little Harry, started to move to see the other person more clearly; Harry, himself, seeing everything through the younger one's eyes._

"Potter." Snape's voice was sharper.

The memory vanished, and Harry had the vague thought that Snape had pushed it away. Something he wasn't supposed to do. He wasn't supposed to fight Harry on the memories.

"You will need to cast your mind back further than that," Snape's voice was calmer, now; "Try for your father. Or your mother, if need be. Your earliest memory."

Harry could barely find a thing of his father.

He found Sirius throwing him up the air. He found Remus holding his hand on his first ice-skate around a rink. He found Sirius handing him an ice cream. He found Remus carrying him on his back. Sirius tickled him mercilessly. Remus listened intently as he cried.

He pushed harder, looking for James Potter, and he was met with the cold dead eyes of the man his mum and Uncle Sirius had taken him to see as a child.

"I'll take over, Potter," Snape's voice finally said; "Don't resist."

They were pushing deeper, further, into places Harry wouldn't know where to look. Memories of his mum tying his shoelaces, passing him breakfast, wiping his face, kissing his cheek, taking his hand, scolding him, smiling at him, laughing and reaching for him.

His mum was everywhere.

And then they pushed further, and further, going deeper and deeper, and Harry could feel himself as a baby, being held in her arms and sung to sleep and kissed goodnight and being tossed into the air…

That wasn't his mum.

James Potter's face was suddenly before him.

Harry knew that it was him, but he didn't know _this_ face, so much; young and smiling and _alive._

Snippets passed by, as Snape guided them through, looking for something more substantial.

It took seconds but all the flashes, the laughter, the voice and the smiles of his father, they were everywhere, all around them;

" _That's my boy!"_

" _Sirius; check out what Harry can do."_

" _My boy, flying before he can walk!"_

" _Now we won't tell Mummy you got ice cream for breakfast, Son."_

"Integro." It was Snape's voice.

The blur of memories suddenly levelled out. Harry found himself peering through blurry eyes, those of an infant – himself, he realised – and there was a soft gurgle from him as his eyes settled upon James Potter – his dad – a few feet away.

He seemed to be wrestling with a long, thin stick of some sort, that looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"Ah, I bet you're wondering what this is, eh, Pronglet?" his dad said, all of a sudden, flashing him a smile as if he had read the older Harry's mind.

"Well," he stepped towards him, kneeling down, holding the stick in one hand and pointing to it with the other; "This, my son, is a fishing rod," he reached up, fingering an almost imperceptible wire that ran the length of it down to a reel; "And this is a line," his dad went on, before he lifted up the very bottom of the wire and held up a tiny, brightly coloured item that was attached to the end; "And this, down here, is a fly!"

His dad sounded awfully proud of himself, as if this were entirely new knowledge to him and something that had to be boasted about and shared.

Harry, the baby, made a soft squeal in delight at the proximity of his father and his dad grinned and chuckled his chin, before he got back to his feet and continued to mess around with the item – the fishing rod – and only succeeded in getting himself into a tangle.

"Ha. Good grief."

His dad shook his hand, attempting to free it from the line, and shot another smile in Harry's direction; "And why does Daddy have this, when a wand would be so much less of a pain in the … sorry –" he held up a hand for a second, before flicking it up, as if in concession; "- an annoyance? Well. Your Mummy has asked that Daddy go with your Grandfather for a little fishing trip this weekend. Yeah. Sounds _spectacular_ , right?"

His dad reached down, winding the reel, and then snatched his hand back with a yelp when the fly nicked his hand; "Bugger!"

He looked at Harry, sharply, who was chuckling, now; bubbles of baby laughter at the antics of his father.

"I mean, ouch." His dad corrected himself, with a smile, before lifting his hand and closing his lips over the wound, giving a sook, before he gave the hand another shake and then lifted the rod once more.

"Oh, the things we do for our women, Harry."

He wound the reel, sighing when the line didn't wind back fully, and rolled his eyes; "Ten fabulous hours in the cold, smelly lake with Grandpa and Vernon Dursley."

He lifted his eyes, skywards; "Oh ho, just kill me now, why don't you?"

"Could you be any more overdramatic?"

It was his mum's voice.

Harry couldn't see her for a second, though baby-Harry was just as eager to see his mum as he was.

And, then, she came into view; holding an armful of folded clothing.

She was so very young, and her hair was longer, and her eyes were brighter, not yet jaded by the world waiting behind these walls, and she was smiling, warmly, in his father's direction.

His dad smiled, affectionately, in turn, before turning his attention back to the fishing rod he was messing around with; "I'll let you know on Saturday night. If I make it back alive. The boredom just might do me in."

His mum laughed and came over to him, to Harry, unbuckling and lifting him from the bouncer he realised he had been seated within and kissing him on the cheek, as she turned back to face his father; "Oh, I'm sure you'll find something to entertain yourself with."

"Are you making reference to my earlier efforts?" his dad grinned from where he was stooped on the floor, resting an arm over his knee and turning a hand up in an innocent gesture; "Vernon is just far too sensitive."

"Please," his mum said, smilingly, as if she knew he was only teasing; "It's one afternoon."

"One full day," his dad pointed out; "In October, no less. Well past fishing season, I'll bet."

"Oh, and you know all about muggle fishing season now, do you?"

"I may have read a book," his dad said, giving a proud nod.

"Well, I am impressed!" his mum remarked, hoisting Harry up further on her hip and approaching his dad, before she nodded at the fishing equipment that was scattered here, there and everywhere; "And is this you putting your newfound knowledge to use?"

His dad held up the fly that had nicked him; "Pretty, right? Quite the catch. I think I'll call this one 'The Lily'."

His mum laughed and kicked his shin, making him yelp and laugh as he grasped at it; "Careful. If I'm injured I won't be able to go."

"Oh, if wishing would make it so!" his mum declared, laughingly, before she plonked herself down in his lap, his dad's arms coming up to wrap around them both.

He pressed a kiss, first, to his mum's cheek and then to the top of Harry's head. A kiss that Harry, the observer, felt as if it were happening entirely to him.

"Thank you for doing this," his mum said, earnestly, smiling at his father, endearingly; "I know there's other things you'd far rather be doing."

"No kidding," his dad said, though it was said without bitterness and his smile was still wide, as he pressed his forehead to her temple; "There's a _game._ Betters are pretty sure it's coming home. Sirius will never forgive me for missing it if we do."

"No reason he has to miss out on all the fun. Take him with you," his mum said, widening her eyes, playfully, as she did, and his dad laughed.

"I might just do that."

"Oh no you won't! Don't you dare!"

His dad's laughter only increased at his mum's vehement response and he tightened his hold on them, pressing another kiss to her cheek; "You get wound up so easily, Wife."

"Oh. You drive me to it," his mum said, lifting her chin, still smiling. Still so, so happy.

His dad leaned in, kissing her properly this time, and his mum kissed him back.

Eurgh!

Yeah, this was getting a bit gross. Harry didn't need to see _that_ aspect of their family life, thank you very much. He wished he could turn away but he was entirely at the mercy of Baby-Harry's line of vision.

Thankfully, his infant self took pity on his prying eyes and let out a squeal, interrupting the display and putting an end to the gross-fest.

"Don't think we've forgotten about you, little man," his dad said, his attention suddenly entirely for him, as he reached down and plucked him up from his mum's arms and got to his feet, holding him up and giving a spin.

"James be careful with him," his mum's previously playful manner was quickly snuffed out at his father's antics.

His dad lowered him, flashing his mum a smile, before pressing another kiss to baby-Harry's – to his – forehead. And, then, his dad smiled down at him with such adoration that Harry couldn't deny it. He knew it. He _felt_ it. The love his father had for him.

Harry swallowed, feeling the lump rise in his throat.

Baby-Harry did not quite feel the sentiment, letting out a whimper.

His dad's expression changed from the one he wore of deep affection to an ironic smile, as he rolled his eyes; "Want your Mummy, do you, Son?"

Baby-Harry's whimpers became a cry.

His dad pressed his lips to Harry's cheek, before he took a step towards his mum and Harry felt himself being passed back over to her.

"He's tired, I think," his mum said, by means of explanation; "I'd hoped he'd fall asleep watching you but it seems Daddy's stories are just too exciting for that."

His dad chuckled and he placed a hand on Harry's head, caressing his forehead gently with his thumb, as Baby-Harry wiggled in protest – totally ruining the moment, by the way, as grown-Harry who was watching would have happily stayed much, much longer – before his mum took a step back towards them.

"Come on then, Sweetheart," his mum lifted him up onto her shoulder, patting his back, and he could no longer see his dad; "Let's get you down for a nap."

Harry blinked.

Suddenly, the moment was gone.

Snape was sitting across from him, stoic as ever, as if they hadn't just been dipping into the deepest recesses of his mind.

But Harry barely even noticed Snape in that moment.

Every thought, every feeling he had, was entirely for his dad.

Harry got to his feet, tears prickling in his eyes, and hurried from the room.

* * *

The Muggle Studies course was progressing so _slowly._

Malachi could wait no longer, what with them still being stuck on only the second topic of this term – electricity – and had simply read on ahead of where he needed to be until, far too soon, he had come to the end of the textbook and was only craving more.

He'd found a book in the library, eventually, in a tiny section at the back that had a small amount of volumes on muggles and the muggle world.

It was scarce and grossly outdated, but Malachi was happy just to get his hands on anything.

He wanted to know _everything._

And he wondered – hoped – he could convince his dad to take him into muggle London or even, just, muggle Edinburgh later that year when he went home for Christmas. If he could go into their stores, he'd maybe find some more interesting books; maybe he'd even get to meet one, properly, a muggle. He had always simply ignored them, on the rare occasions that he had ever been in their presence, but now he was keen to talk and _know_ them.

"Malachi!"

Harry plopped down, suddenly, in front of where he was lying back against the bookshelves in their usual, hidden, spot in the library.

"Did you know that muggles have a whole profession who's job it is just to put out _fires,_ " Malachi said, immediately, still entirely engrossed in the book he was reading; "That's crazy!"

Harry sighed, making Malachi look up, and he frowned when he saw the look on his friend’s face.

"Hey," Malachi said, casting the book aside as he pushed himself more upright; "You alright?"

Harry looked totally freaked out.

"Yeah," Harry waved a hand, before he went on, whisperingly; "Listen. You and your dad live in Crail, right?"

"Sh!"

"I know, I know," Harry waved a hand, dismissing Malachi's – obvious, logical – alarm, before he pushed on.

"Well, you must know a bit about fishing then, right?"

Malachi met Harry's look with a frown.

* * *

Small fishing boats made their way back in towards the harbour, as the sunlight began to creep over the horizon.

Julia allowed the curtain to fall back into place, as she stepped away from the window, making her way back in the direction of the bed with a faux-coy smile.

"Here we are, lads and ladies, and welcome back to day six of life under the covers!"

Julia flopped back down onto the mattress with a bounce. It really _was_ far more comfortable than her own, just as Regulus kept insisting, but she didn't quite admit that.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Miss Bradbury," Regulus said as he reached up from where he lay tangled amongst the bedclothes to take one cheek in his hand, drawing her to him, and to press his lips to the other.

Regulus Black was a sap.

Sure, he hid it all behind jokes and banter, the man he really was, but it was all entirely evident in those eyes whenever he looked at her. And he knew it, too, for he'd always avert or close them whenever their conversations started to tread a little too close to personal on his side.

Julia had fancied the pants off Regulus Black for _years_.

Since the very first time they had spoken at Harry's seventh birthday party. It was so, so long ago now but she could remember it all as if it were yesterday. That million-dollar smile and those haunted grey eyes and the way he had looked at her with such longing when she had told him, flat out, the honest truth that she didn't _do_ regrets; nope. She didn't have a single one.

Julia had been hooked from the get-go.

It was rather alarming, actually, for she had never been quite so taken by anyone before.

It had all come to nothing.

The very next week, Eugene Hopkins had struck, killing Andromeda Tonks and five others and, almost, Regulus with them.

Regulus had resurfaced, alive and well, a few months later; a 'Coming Home' Fundraiser being thrown at the Foundation in light of the fact, and they had wasted no time _that_ night. Julia had never been coy – no, not ever – especially when it came to getting something she wanted, and Regulus was entirely the same. Within less than an hour, they were in his office, clothing shed, and she had finally gotten what she had craved and wondered about since that day in the Potters' kitchen that summer.

Regulus defected the very same night.

Their timing had always been atrocious.

Regulus lifted a croissant from the tray that his house elf had brought through to them a little while earlier. Why he needed a house elf – Kreacher – for such a small residence, Julia didn't know, for when she had asked him outright, he had averted those eyes and given a shrug and a bashful smile, making an excuse as to how he was entirely unable to take care of himself in Malachi's absence and perhaps _she'd_ like to have a go.

Yep. A sap.

Even if the suggestion was an entirely appealing one.

Once Voldemort had fallen, the second time, and she and Regulus had become reacquainted there was a change in him. A distance that had always been there before, yes, but a brokenness in addition to that; the weight of his brother's death laid heavily upon him and Julia had made the mistake – once and never again – of mentioning him, because she'd known Sirius well before it had all gone down.

And, so, they had carried on in rather the same manner as the first time. It was all banter and flirting and fooling around, whenever the opportunity arose – and their circles crossed enough for it to be relatively frequent – but Regulus never stuck around for it to mean anything more and Julia was entirely happy to just go with the flow – it wasn't like she was looking for anything – and so, that was how it all went.

Julia didn't know what had happened to turn all of this around some weeks ago.

She didn't know what had happened that had finally made this all click.

All she knew was that Regulus Black had brought her home, almost a week ago, and neither had left the confines of the little cottage since.

"Won't they be missing you at the Foundation?" Julia asked, lifting a croissant and taking a bite.

"Nah," Regulus waved a hand, dismissively, before licking the jam that spilled from his own from his fingers; "I'm not that important."

Julia laughed, through a mouthful; "You're the Founder!"

"And lo! The Foundation has already been founded," he said, flashing her that knee-weakening smile of his; "Years ago, in fact."

"It's really amazing. What you did there."

Regulus averted his eyes, clamming up, as if entirely on cue; "Only money."

"It's not only money," Julia rolled her eyes, at his attempts at modesty; "They don't call you the 'People's Sweetheart' for nothing."

Regulus chuckled, lifting his eyes skywards, for a second; "Oh _that._ Now, that happened because of my recurrent rising from the dead a few years ago – and not everyone was particularly happy about it, you might remember – along with an article written by a Miss Meredith Snow. And no, I have absolutely no idea who she is, before you start wiggling those eyebrows at me," he finished up with a pointed finger in her direction and a grin.

Julia smiled widely back at him. He may not, but she knew Meredith Snow very well. Something Regulus was entirely in the dark about.

She finished up the last bite of the croissant she held.

Regulus reached up when she did, thumb going to the side of her mouth and, with a tender touch, brushed off a smear of jam left behind. He met her eyes, warmly, as he popped his thumb between his lips to lick it off.

Regulus had a way about him that was almost sinful; an ability to touch and kiss in such a manner that he could fool a woman into believing that she was the one and only person in the world for him.

A testament that could be backed up by half the women this side of the Northern Hemisphere.

Lily's warnings were entirely unnecessary. Julia knew that she wasn't the only one.

Still, with each day that passed, each night where he had hinted that she didn't _really_ need to go home just yet, she could stay a little while longer in this hideaway – and that if she were so inclined to do so it would be _more than fine_ by him – she was finding herself less and less able to keep herself grounded.

Entirely swept away by all of this and what it _could_ be – because, Julia, it _won't_ – and, despite her doubts and her scepticism, she was totally fine with just going along for the ride. She'd rather feel it than not, after all, and she'd meant it when she told him from the off that she didn't do regrets. She didn't turn away and _wonder_ at what she had missed out on.

Screw that.

She took his face in her hands, kissing him soundly in response to his teasing, and he returned it in kind. Gentle fingertips upon the flesh of her side, trailing upwards until they brushed back the hair that had tumbled over her shoulders to frame them.

"Hmm," Regulus made the sound, approvingly, as he drew back; "You taste like strawberries."

"You taste like morning breath."

Regulus burst out laughing; "Oh, lovely."

Julia grinned and touched her forehead to his, her own fingers unable to help trailing the curls of hair at the top of his chest as they always did; "What are the plans for today, then, Mr Black?"

"Plans?" his eyes twinkled – another jolt through her – and he tilted his head to glance down at the tangled bedding and their very undressed bodies amongst it; "We need a plan of action for this?"

He leaned in and touched his lips to the dip where her neck met her shoulder, his hand coming up to caress the flesh of the other. Julia sighed. Sinful, sinful, sinful.

"Hmmm. I thought we'd go out," Julia stated, the idea coming to her, all of a sudden.

Yes. Out! Perfect. Nothing like a bit of fresh air to bring some perspective. Maybe that would give the hazy cloud of lust and longing and utter bliss the chance to dissipate so she could think a little bit more clearly and plant her feet back on solid ground.

Regulus froze in his administrations, before he drew back with a frown to look at her; "Out?"

He repeated the word as if it were an entirely foreign concept.

"Yes. Out," she pressed the palm of her hand to his chest, putting a little distance between them; "You asked me here to show me the village, didn't you?"

Regulus pointed at the closed curtains; "I meant from the window."

Julia laughed, unable to help herself, and he smiled, brightly, at the response. She took his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his one more time, and then rolled over and flung her legs over the side of the bed to get to her feet.

"Come on. Get dressed."

Julia set about dressing herself, ignoring the way her heart was beating just a little _too_ fast at his – well, his e _verything;_ touch, presence, eyes, voice – and only looked back at him when he approached her, his hands on her hips from behind.

He pressed his lips to the tender flesh behind her ear, before speaking in a murmur against it; "Julia –" Ugh, it _always_ got her when he used her name; "You know we can't actually go out."

Julia shot him a questioning look over her shoulder; "And why is that, Sir?"

He tilted his chin forward, eyes entirely on hers, even when he spoke sincerely; "You know why. You know why I'm here."

"Oh, don't think you can fool me into thinking you spend all your time cooped up in these four walls, Mr Black," she turned to face him fully, grinning as she raised her eyebrows; "I've heard Harry's stories about what you boys got up to this summer."

Regulus grinned in turn, glancing away and looking amused at the reminder, before he met her eyes again and shrugged; "You're only young once. I wanted to show the boys a good time."

"But not me?"

Regulus' amusement dimmed somewhat, a little furrow on his brow as he considered her statement; "The boys are already hunted. It doesn't matter if I'm spotted with them."

It was the sad, true fact; Harry and Malachi's circumstances.

"Ah!" Julia lifted her chin, smiling wickedly; "So this is all about protecting _me_ is it, then?"

"Well," he shrugged, lips twitching; "That goes without saying."

"Oh, it does, does it?" Julia said, laughingly, before she pressed a finger to his chest, raising an eyebrow; "You have _never_ worried about that before. Why the sudden concern?"

Regulus looked a little thrown at the statement.

And then he looked guilty.

It was entirely true, after all, the two of them had been fooling around for years – in very public places, to boot, certainly more so than this tiny muggle fishing village – and he had never once told her that it was dangerous for her to be around him. Even her own flat and the pub they had been meeting in for days on end in September were right in the centre of London, hardly a place that they wouldn't be spotted.

"It's different now," Regulus said.

Julia was very, very curious, even if she knew he wouldn't elaborate further. She risked it, the inevitable clamming up that would follow, wondering if maybe this would be the time he would actually _talk_ ; "How so?"

Regulus didn't talk.

But he gave her a smile, a smile that lacked the teasing cheekiness that she was used to from him; rather, it was warm and sincere, and she dared to think that maybe, yes, things _were_ a little different this time.

Julia stepped forward, kissing him again – she couldn't quite get enough of them, as sinful as they may be – and he drew her closer, trying, she guessed, to distract her with his touch once more.

That wouldn't be working this time, nope.

Julia drew back and reached for her jeans, climbing into them and pulling them up; "Come on. I want to see the harbour."

"Julia –"

"I'm a big girl, Black," she told him, because there was no way that she was going to be ducking about in the shadows, when even fourteen-year-old Harry Potter was happily going out into the world with Regulus Black by his side; "I can take care of myself."

"Still, there's obviously a need for discretion," he stated, as he rubbed his hands up her arms, looking at her almost imploringly as he did.

"There's discretion and then there's excessive," Julia pointed out, with a teasing smile; "You think you can keep me locked up in this shoebox as long as I'm seeing you?"

Regulus looked uneasy and she wasn't entirely sure if it was the statement about keeping her locked up or the implication that they were something more than they actually were that caused it.

"Besides," Julia said, stepping towards him and taking his hands with a smile; "As _lovely_ as it has been, hanging out under the covers with you all these weeks –" Regulus smiled; "I think it just might be time for us to head on back out into the big bad world."

Regulus held her look for a moment, before glancing in the direction of the window; "Hm. And what a big bad world it is."

Julia squeezed his hands, drawing his gaze back to her, and she gave him a small smile; "So, what do you say, Mr Black? You up for showing me a good time?"

Regulus kept his eyes on her for a moment. And then he smiled, giving her a nod.

"Alright."

Julia smiled, as he tugged on her hand.

* * *

"Expecto Patronum!"

The massive silvery dog burst forth from the end of his wand, instantly, vivid and bright as it bounded throughout the Defence classroom.

It wasn't the first time Harry had done it, but it was definitely the easiest. He had only to think of the memory, the precious memory of his father and his mother, together with him, in a moment so perfect, more than anything he could have hoped for.

It was a peace that Harry had never thought he'd be able to find when it came to James Potter.

He had his dad to thank for that.

He had _Snape_ to thank for that.

"Excellent, Harry!" his Uncle Remus – Professor Lupin – beamed, proudly, as his patronus bounced around him in a swirl, before vanishing from sight.

Harry smiled, widely, unable to help it if he tried but only shrugged, almost bashfully, at the obvious pride on Remus' face.

Remus came over, grasping him by the shoulder as he continued to smile; "It must have been a happy memory, indeed, to have brought about such a powerful patronus."

Harry nodded; "It was my dad."

Remus' eyebrows lifted in obvious – and pleasant – surprise; "Your dad?"

Harry found himself eager to tell, turning to his Uncle Remus fully; "Yeah. He was there, and I was just a baby. Mum was making him go fishing with her dad – my grandfather – and someone called Vernon – I have to her ask her who he is – and he was totally _hopeless_ at sorting all the stuff out. It was brilliant. And he held me up and…I could really feel him, Uncle Remus."

Remus was still smiling at him, but it was almost sad now, as he squeezed the shoulder he still held; "Did you see all that in a dream?"

Harry frowned, wondering if Remus thought it was all just a fantasy he had made up in his mind – like something Grace would do! – and he shook his head; "No. Snape found it for me."

" _Snape_?" Remus repeated, looking totally bewildered, before he cleared his throat and composed himself; "Forgive me. That's Professor Snape, to both of us."

Harry's lips twitched, not bothered by the scolding, especially as it was included for Remus, himself, at the slip. Frankly, Harry was quite happy to show respect, admiration, gratitude – you name it – to Snape – Professor Snape – here on out, until the end of time, for what he had done for him that weekend.

"You don't like him, do you?" Harry finally asked, pretty sure he knew the answer.

Remus frowned, looking thrown; "Oh. No. Harry, I wouldn't want you thinking that."

That was a pretty weird response.

"Why would it matter if I thought you don't like him?" Harry asked, just as bewildered as Remus had been when Snape had been dropped into the conversation in the first place.

Remus cleared his throat; "Because he is your teacher. And a mentor, considering his current teachings of you regarding the Occlumency lessons –" he hesitated, realisation seeming to come to him; "I wouldn't want your opinion of him and, by extension, your education affected by mine and Professor Snape's history. Am I right in thinking he pulled up this memory for you during your private lessons?"

Harry shook his head; "No. It was different. Malachi found something about how he can find lost memories. So, I asked Professor Snape if he could find me some memories of my dad. That's the one he found."

Remus was looking at him, no longer surprised or bewildered or, even, _with him,_ his mind seeming to be totally elsewhere, and his expression was entirely unreadable.

"Malachi and me, we've been looking at some books about fishing. What we can find, anyway," Harry said, his tone becoming more disappointed as the words went on; "It's a muggle thing, so we can't really find much."

Remus was back; "Ah. Fishing. My own grandfather used to take me often. It's a lovely way to spend the time."

Harry brightened, eagerly; "You know how to fish? The muggle way?"

"That I do. I can even get some books to you two boys, if you're so inclined to read them," Remus said, smiling when Harry quickly started to nod before he'd even finished up his sentence.

"Yeah!" Harry agreed, eagerly; "And, maybe you could take us? Me and Malachi? At Christmas?"

Remus chuckled, ruffling his hair; "Easter would be a far better time, rather than shivering out on the banks in the height of winter, if you can muster the patience. I have some pictures of your dad – and Sirius – if you want them in the meantime."

Harry nodded.

He had already sent an owl to ask his mum – he knew she must have some – but he was keen to get his hands on anything, now that he had become more than just a stranger who people had always insisted was his dad.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"But, for now, we had better carry on," Remus said, adopting Professor-mode, and his hand dropping from his shoulder.

Harry nodded, lifting his wand once more; "Another Patronus Charm, Uncle Remus?"

"Hm. I think you've got that one pretty much down for now. Let's try something else."

Harry shrugged, in submission, not fussed what Remus had in mind for the rest of the lesson.

His mind still far, far away, back in a little house he didn't know, with two people he finally, after all this time, _did_ know and loved, just as he should.

A memory that Harry had locked up tight in his heart, never to be forgotten again.

* * *

They stumbled across the threshold, back into the safe confines of the little cottage – their most romantic hideaway, as it was beginning to seem like, even if they were in the 'final hour', so to speak – in peals of laughter, the door clicking shut behind them.

It felt good to laugh.

It felt good to get out.

_Everything_ felt good when he was with Julia Bradbury.

"Ice cream for breakfast," she said, laughingly, as she took a bite from the roll she had picked up for herself from the café they had visited – each morning, since the day she had coerced him into leaving these confines – before she raised her eyebrows; "Are you twelve?"

Regulus took a lick of the small amount of ice cream remaining on the top of the cone, unabashedly, with a smile; "Goodness, you sound like my son."

That only made her laugh more; "I know your son. I can well believe he's the daddy in this relationship."

"He's just so damn responsible, he certainly doesn't get that from me," Regulus grinned, taking a bite from the cone; "His mother's –" he hesitated.

Julia met his eyes, looking at him, expectantly.

Regulus cleared his throat, averting his gaze when he finished up what he was going to say; "His mother's influence, no doubt."

There was a quiet.

"I met her," Julia said, drawing his look back to her; "I can well believe that, too."

Regulus smiled; ever amazed at how she could just _take_ it, anything awkward or uncertain or entirely foolish that he cast her way.

Julia went to the sink, washing up her hands; "And so ends our little week on the Coast."

"Hm. Duty calls, as they."

Julia smiled, approaching him; "That it does, Mr Black," she wrapped her arms around his neck; "It's been a blast."

Oh. Was this goodbye, then?

Regulus wasn't sure.

Wasn't sure whether it was and wasn't sure whether he ought to protest otherwise.

To do so would imply a commitment that he wasn't sure – as much as he should wish it – that he'd be able to hold up.

He and Julia may have been sleeping together for years but they had never really _talked_ until now.

As much as Regulus had eagerly gobbled up any and all things that Julia had started to reveal about herself to him these past few weeks since they had _–_ and she was just as incredible, just as delightful as he had always imagined she would be when he had held himself back from ever getting this close – Regulus really didn't want her to know anything more about him than she already did.

Nothing would crash this whole thing down any faster than _that_.

It was just something Regulus could never do; to be open, like that.

Sirius had tried with him, in those short weeks before he had been killed and, obviously, there was Evelyn before him, who had tried and tried, so very hard to understand, as well. Both dying for his mistakes, in the end, as this bleak, twisted world would have it.

And now there was Malachi, always pressing, always getting just a little too close. Regulus longed for that closeness with his boy - in his mind, yes – the closeness that a father ought to have with his son but when it came down to it he just couldn't bear it. He couldn't let people _see_ him and come inside into dark. Especially not the innocent, bright boy that was his son.

Nor could he do so with this woman, who was so utterly untouched by all of this; bright and laughing and _alive_ and loving it _._

Regulus Black did not love life.

It was only his son – whom he would never dream of willingly leaving to face this bitter, dark world alone – that anchored him to it.

But sometimes, often actually, when he lay in Julia Bradbury's arms he couldn't help the thought that death – when it should eventually, finally come for him - was not quite as appealing a state as it had always been since emerging from the other side of the war anymore.

Regulus' darkening thoughts made him turn away.

He should be turning _her_ away, lest he taint her with all of this. He wasn't naive enough not to know what was happening here; he knew people well enough to know where this was going and how it was going to hurt, so very much, as much as it felt so very good right now, when the bubble burst.

Julia's hand on his chin drew him back to her, to face her, and he opened his mouth, going to make an excuse, an implication that, yes, this was goodbye then. It had been lovely, oh yes, but now it was over, and they could just be happy with the little time together they had had.

Regulus didn't get the chance to say a word.

Julia's lips pressed to his, kissing him deeply, and it all just melted away.

Regulus remained close when their lips parted; "Hm. You know where I live. The door is always open, Miss Bradbury."

"Is that right?"

"Certainly. How could you possibly resist the beautiful view and ice cream from breakfast?"

Julia tilted her head ever so slightly; "And is that the only reason for me to come back?"

Regulus was entirely still.

He did not want her to go.

But, then, he couldn't ask her to _stay_.

A stalemate that was so very familiar – Regulus could never let Evelyn go, either, and that had been so very unfair – and so he just stood there, wishing things were different, and entirely sure that if he didn't give her a good enough reason to come back that she wouldn't.

Julia was not someone who wasted _time_.

Julia leaned in, touching her lips to his once more, before she drew back with a smile.

"Later, Black."

* * *

Her Daddy had been gone since before Easter.

Grace remembered because the Easter Bunny had given her an extra egg that year, as if he was saying sorry that her Daddy wouldn't be coming back that time, when Harry went back to school after the holidays.

She missed Harry.

But she missed her daddy even more.

The sound of rummaging in her mum's room roused Grace from the awakening haze that she was lying in, head buried deep into her – totally not ripped – pillow.

Grace was immediately alert, rolling over, and she pushed herself down the mattress on the heels of her hands and feet, until she reached the bottom and jumped down with a bounce, scampering from her room to the threshold of her mum's.

Her mum was on her knees, but Grace couldn't see all that much of her, as she leaned into the confines of the cupboard at the bottom of her bed. A shoebox slid out, followed by another, and then her mum leaned back on her knees and reached down to pull off the lid of the first one.

"What are you doing, Mummy?" Grace hurried into the room, immensely curious.

Her mum looked up quick.

"Oh, you're awake, Sweetheart."

"Yep," she plonked down next to her, reaching over and pulling open the lid of the second box. She frowned, reaching down and lifting up the first thing in the pile.

It was a picture of a man she didn't recognise – tilting his head at the camera with a smile.

He looked a bit like Harry.

"Who's that?" Grace asked, looking at her mum and then back at the picture.

Her mum cleared her throat; "That's Harry's Daddy."

Grace frowned, trying to make sense of the information. She knew that Harry's Daddy was different from _her_ Daddy, yes. And she knew that Harry's Daddy couldn't be with them now, no. Grace guessed it was the same as with hers; that Harry only got to see his own when she wasn't around. Like they weren't ever supposed to see one another. Because his Daddy was a secret too.

Like secret spies!

Harry had read her stories about spies once and she was overcome with head-stories about how awesome it would be, to be a spy-family with lots of cool secrets and things the rest of the world didn't know while they all saved them without anyone knowing.

"What's his name?"

"James."

"James," Grace repeated, slowly; "I like it! What's my Daddy's name?"

Her mum didn't answer.

Grace frowned, looking up at her mum, expectantly.

Her mum smiled, brushing her fringe back from her forehead; "Your Daddy likes it best when you just call him Daddy. It makes him feel very special."

Grace considered the information. She made Daddy feel special. She smiled and nodded, looking back down at the picture of James; "Okay."

"How come James doesn't come to see Harry? Is he working, too?"

Her mum adjusted herself, so she was sitting more comfortably, before she shook her head; "No, Sweetheart. Harry's Daddy. Well. He's not with us anymore. He went away."

"Went away where?"

"Do you remember what I told you about Heaven, when you asked about my mummy and daddy?"

Grace nodded; "You said it's a place we go – _after –_ that we can all be together again, away from here."

"Yes, that's right."

"I know what you really mean though," Grace said, looking down at the picture of James; "He's dead."

Grace stared at the picture of the man who, all of a sudden, looked even more like Harry than he did before. The man who had left her mummy and her brother and _died_ and that's why he wasn't there, with them, now. And Grace felt suddenly very afraid.

"Is my Daddy dead?" she asked, in a whisper.

"No," her mum said, immediately, her hand grasping her shoulder; "No, Sweetheart, he's not."

Grace could only stare at the picture she held, her lip trembling; "But Harry's Daddy's dead and he doesn't come to see him. And my Daddy doesn't come to see me anymore. And he didn't get to say goodbye, because I fell asleep." Grace remembered it, that last night with him, tucked up in bed and listening to his voice and unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

She shook her head, eyes stinging; "I wouldn't have gone to sleep, Mummy! I would have stayed awake and kissed him goodbye at door!"

Her mum drew her into a tight hug and it was only then, when she was held close in the comfort of her arms, that Grace realised she was crying.

But she didn't want her mum.

She wanted her daddy.

She wanted to touch him and make sure that he was really alive.

Harry always said their mum never told them the truth – because she thought they were babies who couldn't handle it – and to speak to Uncle Remus if she wanted to ask questions.

Grace's sobs became hiccups.

She drew in a breath, leaning back and looking up at her mummy, who reached up and brushed the tears from her cheek with her thumb.

"Where's Uncle Remus?"

She wanted to talk to Uncle Remus. He would tell her the truth. He would tell her where her Daddy was and if he was really okay. Maybe he could even go and bring him back for her.

Her mum looked so very sad and that made Grace even more afraid.

Why would her mummy be sad if her daddy was fine?

"Uncle Remus is working, Sweetheart. At the school where Harry goes."

"But last year he still came to visit us every Sunday for dinner. How come he doesn't do that anymore?"

"He has to stay with Harry this year."

"Because his Daddy died?"

"Yes."

"Is Harry sad?"

Her mum nodded, before she drew one of the boxes closer; "He asked me to send him some pictures, so that he could keep them at school with him, to look at when he misses him."

Grace reached in, taking out another one, before looking at her mum with a frown.

"But I miss my daddy too and I don't have pictures," Grace pointed out, before she peered, hopefully, in the direction of the cupboard; "Can I have some pictures of mine?"

Her mum pressed her hand to her lips for a moment and then she shook her head; "I'm sorry, Gracie, I don't have any pictures of your Daddy."

"How come?"

"He doesn't like it. Getting his picture taken."

"Well that's very silly!" Grace declared; "What if we needed to find him and then no one would know what he looked like? We need to get some pictures."

"The next time he's home, we'll get one," her mum said, and she tried for a smile, but it just looked wrong, because Grace wasn't stupid, and she knew her mum was sad and treating her like a baby by pretending everything was fine.

She wanted to see Harry.

Or Uncle Remus.

Both of them.

"So, I won't get to see Uncle Remus until Christmas then? When he comes home with Harry?"

Grace looked at the calendar. That was weeks away. They hadn't even started the Santa-Countdown on the fireplace yet.

She looked back at her mum, who hadn't answered, and raised her eyebrows.

Her mum nodded after a minute; "Yes, Uncle Remus will be here for Christmas."

"Okay." Grace nodded; "Good."

She would ask Uncle Remus about her daddy then.

* * *

Harry looked longingly at the moving photograph held in his hand; his Uncle Sirius slapping his dad on the back as they laughed, unreservedly, in a way that told Harry they were doing so about something incredibly silly, an inside joke between friends – brothers – and he loved it, this one of several that his Uncle Remus had given to him that morning.

"Okay, so is it fly fishing or bait fishing?" Malachi asked, from where he sat opposite on the library floor, one of the books on Muggle fishing Remus had given him along with the pictures that morning clutched in his lap.

"Uh, fly, I guess?" Harry said, with a shrug; "There was a fly on the end of the string."

"Line," Malachi corrected, lowering the book and pointing to the labelled picture of a fishing rod upon it.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Harry nodded, remembering his dad's tutorial; "The line. Yeah."

"Looks like you just chuck the fly in the water and hope a fish tries to eat it."

"That's it?"

"It has a section on 'The Perfect Cast', whatever that is," Malachi said, palm swiping through the pages, quickly, no doubt looking for the section he mentioned.

Harry was suddenly reminded of a similar instance, from when they were younger, two little kids in the Learning Centre and only just newly friends. It wasn't a significant memory, no, just one like this; Malachi sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, turning the pages of a book in exactly the same way – a palming swipe – and Harry shook away the odd sense of deja vu.

It wasn't the first time since Snape had used the Orion exercise upon him that it had happened.

It had been listed as one of the side effects in the reading material the Potions Master had provided him with; that he may continue to recall forgotten memories – small, disconnected ones – in the days that followed.

And he had.

It had not only been James Potter who had come back to him.

A whole slew of memories, long forgotten, had followed on the heels of it. Each new – old – piece of history, _his_ history, and his life that he had somehow forgotten from times long passed, as if the spell had unlocked an entire closet of skeletons that he didn't even know existed.

There were memories of his mum and dad dancing in the kitchen while he watched, chuckling, from his highchair.

There were memories of his dad carrying him up on his shoulders and sharing a joke with Sirius who beamed up at him from where he was down below.

There were memories of his dad slapping Remus on the back, telling him how Harry had walked all the way from the coffee table to the sofa and to try to come around more often, would he, because he looked like utter shite. And he did, his Uncle Remus looked beaten and broken in the memories from back then when he was a baby.

And then flashes came further, when he reflected on those things that he saw, and he saw Remus and Sirius fighting – so very much – and Remus was blaming Sirius for what happened to his dad and Sirius was calling Remus a coward and then he was calling Snape a Death Eater and saying how they had to stop him from working with his mum.

Snape was working with his mum.

And _that_ brought on even more, so quickly, as Harry remembered the table that his mum was sitting at and the person who she smiled so brightly at. He remembered seeing his face for the first time, Snape, and that was the first time he had ever glimpsed him. In a moment where he was trying not to smile back at his mum.

It was all so very strange, that they all knew one another, that Harry should end up caught in the middle of all these memories he didn't realise he had.

Had Snape unlocked them for him?

"Do you remember when we went looking for Sirius and we ended up at Hogwarts?"

"Oh," Malachi looked up from his reading and shrugged; "Yeah. A bit."

"How did we end up in Snape's chambers?"

Harry was trying to figure it out. They had been in _someone's_ chambers in the school, after all – Harry recognised the layout of the interior from his visits to Remus – and his mum had been there and so had Snape, in the memory, so it was surely _his._

No matter how odd that would actually be.

"Oh, yeah," Malachi nodded, suddenly seeming to remember; "He was watching me that time. Don't you remember? My dad was gone. Dumbledore sent us down there to wait until your mum came to pick you up."

Harry nodded, slowly, vaguely remembering the event. He supposed that made sense, then, why he would be in Snape's chambers and why his mum and Snape would show up there, together.

"Right."

"Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Harry shrugged; "It's weird. It's like, ever since Snape helped me find some stuff about my dad, all this other stuff has been coming back to me. Things I didn't even remember knowing."

"Merlin help us all, when Harry starts thinking."

Harry chuckled, giving his foot a kick with his own, and Malachi grinned, before turning back to the book.

But Harry _was_ thinking, as much as Malachi claimed that to be a rare feat, and his thinking was almost entirely on Snape now because another memory was coming back to him.

They were in St Mungo's, both of them, him and Snape, he was only six and he was following him and struggling to keep up with his strides and Harry had the vague recollection that he wanted Snape to _like_ him, for some reason, and Harry couldn't quite remember why.

It was all very odd.

Harry had _known_ who Snape was, he supposed, before he had come up to Hogwarts – Malachi's Godfather – but he had made such little impact that anything he remembered of him had been quickly snuffed out in that first Potions lesson when he had basically mocked him in front of the whole class for his 'fame', which he really didn't want anyone taking notice of. Not on his first day of school!

And anything that had come before then hadn't matter because Snape wasn't important, no. He was just this arse of a teacher who Harry really didn't like, and he had spent the next four years ignoring Harry except to issue detentions and stare at him, weirdly, for afar.

But, now, Harry was starting to remember things from long ago, like that day in the St Mungo's hallway, or the night in Snape's chambers, and, just this moment, Snape standing in his kitchen, come to pick up Malachi.

And it was so strange that Harry had forgotten, because he was only now just realising.

Snape had been there all along.

* * *

There were many, _many_ things to be concerned about right now.

Obviously, there was the situation with Grace, which continued to plague him. It was absurd, really, that he should continue to dwell upon this. Staying away, that was – should be – the _easiest_ part of all of this. The lies, the deceit that Lupin had continued to accuse him of – true, yes – was nothing in comparison to the grand scheme of things.

There were _worse_ things he could do – _would_ do, there was no other way – to ensure that this war was won and his family could be safe and live their lives outwith these shadows. And he didn't need Lupin breathing down his neck about every choice – or, rather, order – that he had to make or follow to see to it that that happened.

This was war. And war was not won by weak, short-sighted fools like Remus Lupin.

And there was Malachi, whom the Dark Lord was not only hunting but, also, attempting to turn; for what better way could he really stick and twist the knife into one of his most hated adversaries than to make him watch his beloved boy walk the very same path he had done as a child. Severus still wasn't entirely certain they were out of the woods on that front, not that he had revealed as much to Regulus yet, lest he send him spiralling _completely._

Because, now, there was also the Foundation. The missing, dying employees, whom the Dark Lord was picking off like flies in an attempt to destroy what Regulus had built and taunt him and turn the tide of favour against him, once more, as those who dared to stand with Regulus, against him, lost their lives for doing so.

It was all a game, and one that Regulus was losing, and Severus struggled to find anything that may offer help or comfort – for the Dark Lord did not want him involved in this particular aspect, lest he lose his most-important position at Hogwarts.

No, that was reserved for the _other_ spy within the Foundation – and who the hell was _that_?

But it was difficult to brood with Harry Potter beaming at him the way that he was in that moment.

Severus tried, very hard, not to smile back.

"Are you ready?" Severus asked, instead.

Harry nodded.

"Legillimens."

Harry's gratitude was palpable and had remained so in the weeks that had followed the restoration of the memory of his father. And Lily. A memory that had brought – obvious – great joy to the boy and Severus told himself that that was what mattered here and what was important – no matter the lingering distaste that still remained in _his_ mouth following the ordeal – and the effects had worked just as he had hoped.

There was a trust between them now, granted, which definitely proved helpful in these lessons. But, more than that, there was a calmness, a confidence about the boy in himself – which Severus inwardly prayed would not lead to him suddenly morphing into a mini-James-Potter – that meant he was, finally, _at last,_ able to demonstrate some control and manipulation over the memories that Severus was seeing.

This time, Harry kept him out, almost, for barely a moment; obviously, an attempt to occlude, but, failing that, harmless memories – harmless in Harry's eyes – began to come forth.

Memories of Grace and her dancing in the middle of the kitchen, singing into a wooden spoon, while Harry doubled over laughing.

Memories of Harry chasing Grace through the garden in the summer.

Memories of Harry pressing a kiss to Grace's bleeding finger, as she smiled at him through tears.

Severus drunk them up, delighted with them, though he out to push them away and _teach_ the boy that these images were _not_ safe. He had to conceal and protect those he loved with all of his strength. But Severus let it go, in this single instance, as he had never been privy to quite so many images of these two children together and it warmed him, to see, as much as he would never admit it out loud.

It took only a few moments, after Severus began to lose focus of the legilliemency casting, for Harry to fully push him out.

Severus dropped his wand arm to his side, looking at Harry.

Harry beamed at him – again, the little Hobgoblin, he was not making this distance-thing easy – and Severus pursed his lips together, so that he would not.

"I got you out."

"This once, perhaps."

Harry shook his head; "I got you out!" He repeated it, smile widening, impossibly, further.

Severus lips twitched but he crossed his arms across his chest; "I ought to point out that when selecting memories to offer up, the focus should be upon things that _do not_ matter to you, quite so much as a beloved sibling."

Harry shrugged; "He probably already knows about Grace. What does it matter if he sees her? Obviously, he knows she's special."

Severus clenched his fist, briefly; "Nonetheless, it is best to conceal as much as you can of her. From everyone."

Harry shrugged; "Alright."

"Shall we try again?"

"Do you think that you're ready, Sir?"

"Five points for cheek, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Severus lifted his wand, waiting for the nod, and then he spoke the incantation.

"Legillimens."

There was a blankness that met him for a few seconds.

And then there he, _himself,_ was and he and Harry were walking down the corridor of St Mungo's so many years before – the first time that he and the boy had ever met – and they were talking about _Lily._

Good grief.

Severus pushed, hard, against the boy's barriers in a way he hadn't quite done before, and he went further in, easily breaking Harry's carefully constructed defences, before they could have any time to dwell on that particular moment, and then he was facing Remus Lupin.

The joy.

Lupin was smiling warmly at Harry, still a little boy, only six or so, and Harry was saying it was as if 'he' was dead – his father, obviously – and Severus felt Harry, the older Harry, push hard back against him, attempting to reinstate the occlumency barriers.

And, now, they were still in the same room, although the view was obscured by railings, as if through a stair banister that the young Harry was peering down from, and it was Lily's voice ' _I don't know what I would have done without you'_ first before Lupin was kissing Lily on the sofa.

Severus withdrew in a flash.

Harry looked befuddled, no doubt due to a more aggressive attack than he was used to, in Severus' attempts to push past any memory that may connect him with Lily, and Severus took the opportunity to turn away.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and only just managing to keep himself from snapping, because as if seeing Lily with Potter was not enough, now, _now_ he had to deal with an image of _that._

Severus had always suspected, and Lily had always denied it, that Lupin felt more than friendship for her, and how could she possible do so when he had – _they_ had – clearly made a move on these not-at-all platonic affections previously.

Severus clenched his jaw, drawing in a breath, and tried to keep calm.

The memory was clearly from years ago, he told himself.

That did little to placate him.

More certain than ever that the wolf was just biding his time; waiting until all of this finally blew up.

Severus shook his head; "That'll do, Potter."

He dismissed him, lest he totally lose his _rag,_ as there were more than just lovely memories of Lily and Grace inside Harry's head and with him now being so rattled Severus was actually worried that if he were to be offered up such another ungodly sight, he may just reveal all their secrets in his reaction.

"It's not even been an hour, Sir," Harry said, frowningly, as Severus took a seat behind his desk.

Severus drew over a parchment and a quill, setting to work on some easy marking, while his mind wandered back in the direction of the Foundation – where he _forced_ it to go – rather than on all the things he would like to do to Remus Lupin right now.

"Sir?"

Severus rolled his eyes, jaw clenching, but he didn't look up.

"Consider that your dismissal, Mr Potter."

He carried on writing – and brooding – not looking up.

But he knew Harry was still there, watching him.

He willed him to leave – as if willing Harry to do anything ever worked – to no avail.

After a minute, maybe even more, Severus sighed and lifted his eyes from the parchment to Harry in exasperation.

Harry was staring back at him.

A very strange look on his face, indeed.

Severus frowned; "What is it, Potter?"

Harry looked startled at being addressed.

And, then, he shook his head, his voice a whisper.

"Nothing."

And then Harry turned and hurried from the room.

* * *

Grace always got this _look_ whenever she was thinking about something.

Usually, it was something she was incredibly, terribly concerned with. Like a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Or an injustice she was trying to understand. Or a scolding she didn't believe she should have been given.

She _brooded,_ basically, her little mind going into overdrive in a way that Harry had always thought was totally adorable.

His baby sister, always _thinking,_ and she was so entirely different from Harry.

His sister was utterly unique.

Harry knew _no one_ in this whole world quite like her.

Until now.

Now, as Harry walked slowly from the office in the dungeons, Harry suddenly knew everything.

All of it was clicking into place.

Harry never really thought much about what his little sister had said to him, a few months before, when she had pointed at the professor he despised and declared that the man was 'Daddy'. The idea was so ludicrous that it didn't warrant further consideration.

His little sister had a crazy imagination at the best of times and was a real drama queen, to boot.

At least, that's what his mum, what his Uncle Remus had always told him. Had always had him believe.

That Grace was _lying._

That she was a just a silly child, her voice not to be trusted. All of it fantasies, all of the tales she had eagerly told him, every summer – _every damn summer –_ when he had come home, and she would regale him of anecdotes and stories about her most beloved father – who was there, always there, whenever Harry couldn't be.

His little sister wasn't the liar here.

For in that moment, in Snape's office, when Snape had withdrawn so abruptly from his mind and turned away – as if what he had seen there, Remus kissing his mum, was so abhorrent to him – and taken up seat at his desk, he had gotten it.

_That look_.

Eyes entirely focused on what he was doing; gaze utterly, completely intense. That would have been enough, alone, but then the Potion's Master had rolled his eyes, lifting them from the parchment to look at him, with such exasperation and _hell._

Harry could have sworn he was looking at his baby sister.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

Another.

Frantic, frantic, bang, bang, banging that told Remus, before he'd even made his way across his chambers to open it, that something was _very_ wrong.

Remus pulled open the door.

Harry was standing on the other side.

His eyes were red. His breathing not quite steady.

And his expression, all that he was feeling, was so exposed, in a manner so vulnerable, that Remus knew exactly what he was going to say before he even said it.

"It's Snape, isn't it?"


	55. November 1994: The Truth

Snape was Grace's father.

It was almost laughable, how damn _obvious_ it was.

Harry wandered out of Snape's office in a daze, as the realisation turned over and over in his mind. He just walked; aimlessly scaling the hallways, the grounds, nowhere in mind and caring nothing for anything but the thoughts that were going on in his head.

Harry remembered everything.

He remembered Grace showing him that wishing stone last Christmas – that she still treasured to this day – the one she claimed her father had given to her.

He remembered going to his mum about it, that stupid piece of rock, asking her if it was Remus – oh, how much better that possibility seemed _now_ – and how she had denied it and he hadn't believed her.

Even back then, Harry knew better than to believe anything she said.

And he remembered asking, demanding, at that first dinner at Easter – just who was Grace's father, what was the big secret – and his mum revealing that, yes, it _was_ a secret – a dangerous one – and don't look, don't look, don't look.

It was absolutely impossible for Harry not to see it now.

A dangerous secret – not a dangerous man, no – but someone who couldn't be there, not even if he wished it, and Harry had thought – oh if only it were true – that it simply must be, it had to be, Regulus Black. For he had swept to the rescue and lifted Grace into his arms when she called to him, her Daddy – Snape! – and whittled her away from the dangerous eyes in the room. His motivations were as clear as the bloody sun in the sky, now; Snape had been standing right there _with_ him.

And Mr Black had denied it, when Harry had asked him, just as Remus had. No, I am not Grace's father; think harder, Harry, you're close, oh so close, _we're_ not the liars here.

The liars, his mum – Lily Potter – and Severus Snape.

But, then, that wasn't entirely true.

Harry's steps brought him to his Uncle Remus' door.

To the person he trusted most in the world.

Harry would dare him to lie to him now.

He knocked once.

Twice.

Within seconds he was pounding on it, needing to see Remus, _now._

The door pulled open and his Uncle Remus was there, looking at him, his face a picture of concern which quickly became one of dreaded realisation.

"It's Snape, isn't it?"

Remus simply stared at him.

It was almost comical, the look on his face, but Harry wasn't laughing.

Remus' mouth opened, as if to speak, for a second, before he actually did.

"What?"

Harry saw red. The words, the accusation bursting forth right there and then, in the hallway.

"How could you not tell me that's he's Grace's father?"

"Harry," Remus grasped him by the arm, pulling him into the chambers, but Harry didn't stop talking; he was so angry, so very angry, and hurt and betrayed and Remus _knew,_ he _knew,_ and he shook his head as Remus pulled him in.

"I know it's him, Uncle Remus, I know it," Harry said, as Remus pushed the door shut behind him, keeping a hold of his arm; "It's Snape."

"Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't need to hear it anywhere," Harry said, shaking his head, before he asserted; "It's obvious. It so _obvious –"_

"I'm…I'm not sure why you think –"

"Don't you dare!" Harry burst out, interrupting him and pulling himself from his grasp, because yes, he had wanted to see if Remus would deny it – had wanted to dare him to lie to him – but now he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer; he couldn't take it, another person he couldn't trust; "Don't you _dare_ lie to me, Uncle Remus."

Even to his own ears, past his fury, his voice had a brokenness to it that surprised him.

Remus didn't look surprised though. He looked uneasy and concerned and sad, so very sad for him, but Harry wasn't going to let him off the hook for bloody _sympathy,_ no way.

"You have known about this the whole time!" Harry went on, shaking his head; "How could you not tell me?"

"Harry –"

"Don't lie to me," Harry whispered, tears prickling, because Remus had _always_ been his, always, and he couldn't turn away from him now, not even for his mum, surely; "Please."

Remus just looked at him, but his expression wasn't blank, not at all – not at all blank, like the way Snape got when he looked at him – everything was there, and Harry quickly picked up on the guilt, the grief, that lingered, and Remus didn't need to _say_ anything then. It was all there, written on his face.

"You really need to speak to your mum about this, Harry," Remus said, his voice quiet, as he conceded the truth.

Harry shook his head, lowering his chin to his chest.

"She's the only one who can answer the questions you have."

A harsh sound escaped him.

Another.

A laugh.

No humour in it whatsoever.

And Harry lifted his head to look back at Remus, the bitterness coming over him in a flash; "Like she'd tell me anything."

"Harry –"

"More lies. More dragonshit –"

"Harry!"

"Dragonshit!" Harry repeated himself, furiously; "She has been lying to me for Grace's whole life! She told me that Grace was lying – Grace! – the only person who's ever told me the truth! She made me think she was s _tupid!"_

"No. Harry, it was – is – it's an impossible situation. But your mum –"

"Always has my best interests at heart," Harry repeated the words Remus had said to him, earlier that year, his voice cold – colder than even he could imagine he could manage – and he looked straight back at Remus, trying to be strong but feeling so very exposed and _betrayed_ by all of this, and Remus was included in that deceit; "So just let it go?"

Remus closed his eyes, hand reaching up to grasp at his forehead, but Harry still wasn't going to let him off the hook.

Never.

"You told me it didn't _matter_ who Grace's father was."

"I never said that –"

"You tried to! You may as well have."

Harry turned away, eyes going to the picture of himself and Grace on the mantle. His baby sister. Snape's _daughter._

All of a sudden, Grace wasn't _his_ anymore. She was Snape's.

Harry flung an arm at the thing, in a swipe, knocking it and everything alongside it onto the floor with a crash and the sound of glass breaking and it wasn't enough. He wanted to break _more_ things, and he turned to do so, but Remus grasped him by the tops of his arms, holding him still, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Harry, don't. Okay, listen to me," Remus was trying to reason with him – and he didn't want to be reasoned with; "It had to be this way, alright? For you. For Grace. It was the only way you could be protected –"

"Protected," Harry spat the word out; "From what?"

"You know from what," Remus said, quietly, looking at him imploringly; "You know what Snape is. You know who _you_ are. And what that would mean for you both, for Grace, if the truth were ever to come out."

"I know that," Harry said, quietly, shaking his head; "I know it has to be a secret. I know I have to keep her safe. It's not like I'd have been shouting it from the rooftops. I would have protected her too."

"I know. I know you would have," Remus assured him, and Harry actually believed him.

"But _they_ didn't," Harry said, thoughts going to his mum, to Snape.

"It's not that they didn't –"

"They don't trust me."

"No, Harry, that's not –"

"They think I'm stupid."

"No!" Remus' voice was firm; "No, Harry. No one has _ever_ thought that, okay? We love you. We all do. No one more so than your mum, you know that. If it could have been any other way, if she _could_ have told you, she would have. Nothing is more important to her – to any of us – than keeping you safe."

Harry couldn't reconcile it.

He couldn't.

Because they hadn't just kept the fact that Snape was Grace's father from him, no.

"She knows him," Harry whispered.

Remus' eyes closed for the briefest of seconds; "Harry."

"Grace _knows_ him," Harry repeated the statement, as the extent of it all, the deceit, became apparent to him; "She would tell me stories. Every Christmas. Every summer. Every Easter. He was always there; he was _with_ them, in that house. _My_ house."

But even that didn't feel like his anymore.

His sister. His home.

They were both Snape's. Snape's and his mother's.

Remus swallowed, averting his eyes, and said nothing.

Harry shook his head; "She pointed him out to me. She could make him out from a mile away. He isn't just her father, he's her _dad._ They're a family."

"That's…that's something you'd have to talk to your mum about."

"I don't want to talk to her," Harry whispered, realising that he didn't, with every shred of truth within him; he did not want to talk to his mum. He didn't even want to _see_ her. And he didn't think he could ever even look at Grace, little Gracie, in quite the same way ever again.

He and Grace, they would never be the same. He had _lost_ her to this. His baby sister.

"I want to hear it from you, Uncle Remus," Harry pressed, because as furious as he was with Remus for lying to him, he, at least, didn't find it unbearable to face _him_ ; "You tell me. Everything that you know."

Remus held his look, but only for a second, and he started – he dared – to shake his head and deny him.

"You have _always_ been there for me," Harry asserted, stepping closer to him; "You've always been there when I needed to talk to someone. I don't have _anyone_ else. Not even Mum. So, tell me. Please."

Remus was silent, staring at him, weighing the words. Harry didn't know what he would do if he turned away from him now.

Sirius would have told him the truth.

He would have _never_ let this happen.

He would have protected him, properly, would have made it stop or taken him away, if he realised what was going on. Harry wished he had been here and that he _had._

Harry drew in a breath, strengthening himself; he would take it. Whatever this truth was. Whatever this _lie._ He had to know.

"Snape is Grace's father," Harry said, much more steadily, than before; "Isn't he?"

Remus was still, but not for long, recognising the challenge in Harry's eyes, and then he inclined his head, ever so slightly, conceding the truth.

"And he's been there for her," Harry pushed on, fighting down the lump in his throat as he did; "Right?"

Remus didn't move. But he didn't deny it.

"And they've _lived_ together, the three of them, and been a family. And I haven't been part of it."

Remus held his look.

Harry drew in a breath; "Right?"

No response.

"Snape and Mum. They're still together; aren't they?"

That was why Snape always looked at him the way he did.

That was why Snape always treated him the way he had.

Ignoring him. Acting as if he didn't exist – except to throw out detentions, left, right and centre – probably _wishing_ that he didn't exist.

James Potter's son with the woman he wanted to be with.

That was why Snape had turned away in those memories; that memory of Remus kissing his mum. A stupid misunderstanding – apparently – from years before and Snape had been disgusted by it. Had brooded over the sight, right in front of him, in exactly the way Grace would when she was trying to figure something out.

Remus averted his eyes.

Harry closed his.

Even knowing the truth, even having it confirmed, he could barely stomach it.

Every look Snape had sent his way these past four years.

Every word Grace breathed of her father.

Every strained smile his mother got when Grace spoke of him.

It all made so much sense.

He had to be _blind_ not to notice it. He had to be _stupid,_ just like they thought.

He and Malachi had laughed and laughed and laughed when Grace had pointed at Snape and declared he was her father, as if it were the silliest thing in the world – nothing could have been more ludicrous – but _he_ was the joke here. He was the fool – everybody's fool – they had all lied to him, kept it from him, not trusting that he would understand it, that he would protect her, that he could be with them.

But that didn't matter anymore.

He didn't _want_ to be with them now. Not with any of them.

Not even Remus.

Harry stepped back, tears spilling out now, never feeling more alone in his life.

"Harry," Remus reached out, touching his arm, but Harry lifted it, out of reach and away from him, shaking his head.

"No."

He tried, very hard, not to cry, but his voice broke on the single word.

"Please. Just let me get your mum here and you can talk about it, properly –"

"No," Harry shook his head, a voice a whisper.

"Harry –"

"No!" Harry repeated, decisively, looking right at him; "Don't you bring Mum here. Don't you tell her any of this."

"Wait, what?" Remus frowned; "Harry, you have to talk to her sooner or later –"

"No, I don't. They don't want me to know? Fine," Harry shrugged; "I don't know anything."

Remus immediately shook his head, almost looking panicked; "No, that's not –"

"Don't you tell her," Harry repeated; "I don't want her knowing. I don't want to see her. I don't want to talk to her. I'll keep my mouth shut, but so will you."

"I can't, Harry," Remus shook his head – taking his _Mum's_ side, just like he always did – and went on; "I can't lie to your Mum about this –"

Harry laughed.

He laughed and laughed; nothing at all like the way he had laughed that day at the Foundation. It was broken and humourless and utterly betrayed.

"But you can lie to me?"

Remus looked so very torn.

Good.

"You can keep your mouth shut for me, at least, can't you?" Harry said, glowering at him; "You did it for them. So you can do it for me too, right? It's only fair."

"Harry –"

Harry shook his head, face twisting, and he wasn't sure if he was more angry, so that he could scream, or so upset that he would just _cry;_ and he, suddenly, didn't want Remus to see any of that. Any of him and how much this hurt.

He was alone. Alone. And he didn't want that, he didn't.

But that was the way it was.

Harry looked back at him, swallowing; "If you go to Mum or to _him_ about this, I will never forgive you. I won't ever forgive you. _Ever."_

He wanted to say more. He wanted to shout more. He wanted to break everything in this damn room, and make Remus see what was inside, but he couldn't.

So, Harry just turned around and left.

* * *

It was cold in the Astronomy Tower.

Cold enough to shiver in the chill of the November night.

But Malachi knew better than to liken Harry's slight shaking to the cold. He sat close by his side, partly for warmth and partly to comfort, because he knew there was nothing he could really _say_ that would help him.

He tried, anyway, his voice quiet in the room.

"You didn't mind so much when you thought it was my dad."

Harry shook his head, knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, his voice just as quiet when he answered; "That was different."

Malachi looked at him; "He was a Death Eater too."

"That's not it, Malachi."

"Why is it different?"

Harry was quiet for a minute and Malachi just waited, saying nothing more, not pressing for a response but he kept close, as he could tell Harry needed.

And then Harry drew in a breath; "Because _your_ dad treats me like family."

Harry's lip trembled, and his eyes squeezed shut, before he pressed his forehead to his knees. He sniffed, staying like that for a moment, and then he drew back to go on, as if he were just gathering strength. But his voice wasn't strong. It was sad and broken and Malachi felt awful for him, at the devastation in his friend's voice and at the words spoken.

"Grace _knows_ him, Malachi. She's known him this whole time. All those stories, all those things she'd tell me about what she was doing when I was away at school, all that stuff she was telling me about her dad; that was all true. It was real. It was _Snape._ They were this family, the three of them, whenever I wasn't there. And when Snape wasn't with them, when he was with me, he treated me like _crap._ And no wonder. I'm just this burden that's in the way of him being with my mum and my sister."

Tears spilled from his eyes then, and he shook his head before he reached up to angrily swipe at them.

"They've got this whole life without me."

"I thought it was because of Voldemort?" Malachi tried; "Because they had to protect you from him. Severus –"

"Don't defend him, Malachi. Don't."

Malachi was quiet. He knew better than to defend Severus right now. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to, to be honest.

He'd known, without doubt, that his dad wasn't Grace's father because he knew, without doubt, that his dad would never _do_ something like this. He wouldn't lie like that.

Malachi didn't think that was the sort of thing Severus would do, either.

Harry drew in a shaky breath, trying to get it together, but he was failing at that. He sniffed and struggled, barely able to hold back the tears, and Malachi shook his head, adjusting himself and reaching round, putting an arm around him.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered, meekly protesting the comfort, but not enough that he actually pushed him away. And when Malachi said nothing more, just sat there like that with him, Harry finally broke.

He pressed his forehead to his knees and Malachi tightened his hold, as a quiet, muffled sob escaped him.

And then another.

The only sounds in the cold, quiet night, were those devastated tears of Harry Potter, as if his world were tumbling down.

* * *

This was a disaster.

A complete and utter travesty!

It was so much _worse_ than Remus could have ever imagined.

He had taken the weekend which, really, was far too long to try and get his head around this mess – not even of his own bloody making – and, when it came down to it, he just could not do what Harry had asked him to do.

He _couldn't._

He loved that boy. He loved him with every damn bone in his body – he would die for him, just as Sirius had, if it ever came down to it – but he could not do this. He couldn't keep this secret – _another_ secret – not now, not with all that was at stake.

Grace.

He loved that little girl, too.

The way Harry had found out, the grief, the betrayal – all which could have been contained, or lessened, somewhat if Lily had just gotten her head out of her arse and told him about this _herself_ before all of this happened – Remus could not imagine Harry ever getting over this.

But that, as awful as the truth of it may be, that was no longer what was important. There was no way Harry would be able to keep control of himself and his emotions _now,_ and be expected to keep a lid on his bubbling fury, which only left him vulnerable. It left _Grace_ vulnerable.

Remus told himself to remain calm; Lily and Grace were already hunted – or at least pursued – by the Death Eaters, simply for their connection to Harry alone, they would be quite safe, at home and at the Foundation for the time being.

The same could not be said for Snape, though, if he were to be summoned before his Master.

Remus had kept a close watch on him, ready to intervene if it seemed as if he were about to leave the Castle, but the Potions Master had remained put.

He would be going to the Foundation today, at least, though – Monday – and Remus had to get this done quickly.

He had to.

This needed sorted, now, but like hell was he going to go to bloody Snape about it. He'd have him wrung before he even finished his opening statement.

He had to go to Lily.

Throw it all away, everything he had with Harry, the tiny bit of trust the boy had held out to him, when he had asked him to keep quiet – albeit, not with any great warmth when he did – and Remus would break it. That tiny morsel, snuffed out, but there was no other way.

Not anymore.

He made his way from the Castle, his free morning allowing it, and apparated to Yorkshire.

* * *

Something was not quite right.

Severus couldn't put his finger on it, exactly, what it was he was sensing.

But it had all started that moment in his office, when Severus had caught Harry looking at him, for all intents and purposes, as if he had seen a _ghost_ and ever since then the boy had avoided all eye contact whatsoever, whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity as one another.

It wasn't often, to be honest, what with it being the weekend. Just mealtimes in the Great Hall, during which times, in the past, Harry's eyes would often find his and, sometimes, there would even be a smile – which the boy should _not_ be doing, so openly, as he well knew – or passing by one another in the corridors, during which Harry's behaviour would be the very same.

But _now_ there was utter avoidance of any sort of acknowledgement of his presence at all. Harry kept his head ducked, his gaze averted, and he most definitely wouldn't _smile_ if Severus were to catch his eyes, Severus knew that much.

He had offended him, he supposed, in some way and, now, Harry was blowing it out of proportion; his early dismissal from the lesson the previous week.

It wasn't that Severus was concerned. It was Harry, after all, and such dramatics were becoming more than a little commonplace. Something Severus needed to get used to .

But it was most definitely odd.

Severus glanced at his timepiece, tapping the item with his index finger, impatiently.

It was 7.14am; and Harry was fourteen minutes late.

He had _never_ been late for a lesson, before.

Time ticked on, during which Severus grew more impatient, until another ten minutes had passed, and he finally tucked away the timepiece, beginning to make his way towards to door – headed for the Gryffindor Tower – fully intending to drag the boy out of bed, if necessary, for these lessons were not to be taken lightly, not ever.

Severus was halted in his steps when Harry appeared in the threshold. To say he didn't want to be there was an understatement; the scowl said it all.

"Mr Potter," Severus crossed his arms, coming to a stop in front of him; "You are late."

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes averted.

Severus frowned.

"Explain yourself."

"Slept in."

"You slept in?" Severus repeated, slowly, enunciating each word.

Harry kept his eyes on a distant spot in the classroom, not even acknowledging that Severus had spoken.

Severus was not appreciative of _this_ unwelcome attitude, that went without saying; "Well, in that case, the lesson shall be extended," he turned on his heel, making his way back to his usual spot; "And five points, I should think, for that attitude."

Severus heard a little 'tut' behind him, a huff, and he felt his impatience increase but he didn't rise to it. Whatever the boy's problem was, he would be learning of it imminently, and Severus was beginning to suspect that whatever plagued him was more than just an offence at being dismissed from his office so abruptly, previously.

"Prepare yourself," Severus said, crossing his arms, standing in position, and lifted his eyes in exasperation, when he noticed Harry was still exactly where he left him, in quite a sulk, indeed.

Harry dropped his backpack, carelessly, on the floor and stepped forward, practically dragging his heels and Severus eyed him.

"Why do I fear we will not be getting very far in our tutorial today, Mr Potter?"

"Because I'm stupid."

Severus frowned, both at the response and at the venom by which it was spoken; "Potter –"

"I'm ready," Harry said, pausing for just a second, before he added, less than sincerely; "Sir."

"Eye contact is necessary for the incantation to work," Severus said, impatiently, not missing the slight.

Harry looked right at him then.

And that look, right there, was so filled with _loathing –_ entirely unexpected, though it was not an unfamiliar expression to him – that Severus couldn't help the furrow of his brow. He tightened his hold on his wand, lifting an eyebrow; "Ready?"

Harry gave him a barely perceptible nod.

Severus raised his wand, and he was immensely curious and entirely certain that there was no way the boy was going to be able to do _anything_ to stop his attack on his mind – not with his current, obviously highly-emotional state – as he spoke the incantation.

"Legillimens."

It was like _nothing_ Severus had ever experienced through legilliemency before.

A white-hot flash of pain and of _grief,_ that enveloped him and consumed him, and made it almost impossible for him to see past it, at anything else within the boy's mind.

Almost.

He caught the slightest of glimpses.

The slightest of glimpses was enough.

Remus Lupin was before him.

" _It's Snape, isn't it? … How could you not tell me that he's Grace's father?"_

Severus was out in the blink of an eye – _forced_ from the boy's mind, in a way he'd never been done so before – no matter how hard he tried to push in further and see _more_ of that conversation – that damn conversation! – and when he came to his senses, both he and Harry were on their backs on the ground.

Harry was breathing heavily, scrambling to his feet and shaking his head, as if he were very angry with himself – as well as the rest of the world – for letting Severus see it.

Severus got to his feet and they met one another's eyes.

If the slight memory, the emotions that came with it, did not tell Severus the truth of it – the reason for the coldness in the boy, that he had been sensing all weekend – that look Harry had in his eyes would do it, now.

It was a look of hate and fury and betrayal.

And then Harry stumbled, backwards, away from him and he began to make his way towards the door – bag forgotten – but Severus caught him by the arm.

"Harry."

Harry rounded on his, eyes flashing with utter fury and disbelief.

" _Don't_ call me that!"

And then he yanked his arm back from him, shoving with his other as he did so, so that Severus' back collided with the desk, before the boy hurried from the room.

* * *

"Wine on a freezing November morning," Julia said, taking a sip and leaning back fully against the backrest of the garden swing; "Isn't this the life?"

"Oh, it takes the chill off, I must admit," Lily smiled, lifting her own glass from the patio.

"Look, Mummy!" Grace called, from where she was cycling her bike on the grass, bundled up tight in her winter coat and splaying her legs on each side.

"Be careful, you!" Lily called over, and Grace rolled her eyes, planting her feet back on the peddles.

Assured of Grace's safety, Lily raised her glass at Julia with a smile; "How are you finding being back at St Mungo's?"

Julia waved a hand; "I try not to think of it as a step _back,_ so much. But, when you end up back in exactly the same place as you did all your traineeships, the sentiment can't really be avoided."

"They'll be happy to have you back."

"Hm. Give me new faces and juicy histories, any day of the week."

Lily didn't want to _pry._ Oh no. Obviously, she had no right to, considering that mammoth secret that _she_ was holding back regarding her own love life these past few years.

Nonetheless, Lily was insanely curious. It wasn't like Julia to hold back on juicy details, after all, and she most definitely _had_ been holding back this time, if all the things Lily had managed to piece together in her mind were anything to go by, since Regulus had come to her door asking for the address to the cottage some weeks before.

"If new faces are what you're after, try the Foundation. They're always looking for new talent there," Lily suggested, innocently, eyeing her carefully as she did.

Julia didn't bite; "Nah. I'm not a researcher, Lil'. Not my thing."

"Puzzles to solve, new people to meet; sounds right up your street."

"As it so happens, now that the Foundation is back in the business of throwing Fundraisers, I don't need to work there to come across the _'Aurelius talent'_ , as you so put it," Julia said, eyes sparkling, as she took a sip of wine and Lily thought she was teasing a bit, though whether about Regulus or Severus she wasn't sure.

"Speaking of which," Lily played innocent; "How did you find the time off between jobs?"

Julia raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips; "How is that a speaking of which?"

"Perhaps I misspoke," Lily couldn't keep from smiling, now.

Julia threw her head back, laughing, now, and then took another sip – rather a _gulp –_ of wine, before she placed the half-empty glass on the ground; "You can quit the coy probing, Lil'. You're far too obvious."

Julia sat back up, smiling and leaning back, before she rested her arm against the back of the swing as she looked at her; "I know you know where I was."

"I can't imagine what you mean."

"I recognised your handwriting."

Lily smiled then, lifting her eyes in a roll; "Maybe I should have slanted it a little."

"God help anyone who ever relies on you to keep a secret, Honey," Julia said, laughingly.

Lily fought to keep smiling and averted her eyes, because it was easier to keep lying when she wasn't looking directly at the person, and gave a shrug; "I managed to keep this one long enough, didn't I?"

"From me, maybe."

"So, spill," Lily said, finally dropping the act and lifting her glass for another sip.

"Hm," Julia shook her head; "Nope."

"Oh my, it must be serious."

"Pfft. Nah."

"Oh, come on," Lily laughed, delighted at the way Julia was reddening under the interrogation; "Since when do you blush and clam up about a man?"

"I'm not blushing," Julia laughed in turn, shaking her head; "And I don't kiss and tell."

"Oh, _dragonshit_!"

"Oh, it's Black," Julia said, eyes widening as she shook her head, before she reached up and ran a hand through her hair; "You said it yourself; I'm not the only one."

"Ah, ah," Lily held up a hand, stopping her there; "He has _never_ asked me to give out that information before. Not to anyone."

"Oh, don't tell me that," Julia squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head; "It's your duty, as my best friend, to _stop_ me from making a complete fool of myself. And, as such, you are failing miserably here."

Lily laughed, while Julia joined in, but the sound of the gate opening drew both their attention to the bottom of the garden.

"Uncle Remus!"

Grace was upon the newcomer in a shot, the bike dropped and falling at her feet, and Remus scooped her up, hugging her tight.

Lily watched them, realising how much he must have missed her, very, very curious as to what would have brought Remus here, after his declaration just a few weeks before that he wouldn't come back – would stay away – in a dramatic end to their argument at the first Order Meeting.

Lily felt immediately uneasy, straightening where she sat.

Remus approached with Grace on his hip, giving them both a nod, and it was when Lily met his eyes that she knew, for sure, that something wasn't right.

No.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Remus," Lily got to her feet; "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said, quietly, not quite meeting her eyes and pressing a kiss to Grace's cheek, before he placed her down on the ground; "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes, of course," Lily nodded, casting a quick glance in Julia's direction – silently asking her to watch Grace – and Julia just nodded, getting to her feet and reaching out a hand to Grace.

"Come on with me, Grace," Julia said, and Grace took her hand, with an uncertain glance back in Remus' direction – as if she didn't want to be parted from him – before she lit up, more enthusiastically, with Julia's ensuing suggestion; "Will we open up the sandpit?"

"Yes!"

They hurried back down the garden.

Remus didn't wait for Lily, just went ahead into the kitchen, and she followed, dread, rising fast and steady within her, as she stepped across the threshold close behind him.

Remus was so readable – he always had been – and his unease, his _guilt,_ was so palpable in that moment, that Lily had a pretty good idea of what it was he was about to say before she had even closed the door behind them.

"What is it, Remus?" she asked, hoping – praying – that her suspicions were wrong.

"It's Harry," he said, right away, turning to face her.

Lily knew, immediately, what it was. What Remus had come to tell her. She drew in a breath, trying to keep calm; "What about Harry?"

"He knows."

Lily shook her head.

A pathetic, helpless attempt at denial; as if that would erase the truth from existence.

The impossible truth.

Even though Lily knew, she _knew,_ from the moment her eyes had met Remus' in the garden that that's what he had come here to say, she couldn't stomach it. The reality of it _,_ of Harry knowing, was something that could barely be comprehended.

"How could he know?" her voice was quiet, deceiving so, while her mind was absolutely racing at what all of this meant. She could almost see it, there in her mind, everything she and Severus had done and been through, to keep them safe, to protect their children, all of it coming undone before her eyes.

She drew in a steadying breath; tried to keep herself grounded, because panicking would help nothing. And, perhaps, it was something that could be fixed or explained away; it needn't be the utter disaster Lily was picturing.

"I don't know. He figured it out," Remus said, shaking his head; "He came to me. I had to tell him."

"You _what?"_

Any attempt at remaining calm was out the window with Remus' statement.

That he, Remus _,_ had _told_ Harry; after all they had said to one another, after all that he had seen her do and fight for, all these years, he would just go ahead and wipe it all out, _behind her back_.

"Look, don't, okay. I didn't want to –"

"Oh, bullshit!"

"Lily –"

Lily shook her head, so bloody _furious_ and in utter disbelief at the betrayal. By _Remus,_ of all people; "This is _exactly_ what you wanted. What you've been harping on at me about for months –"

"Not like this!"

"Isn't that what you said to me? That Harry had to know?"

"I wouldn't have just _told_ him, Lily; he came to me already knowing. He got it from somewhere else."

"You should have told him to come to me."

"I did."

"You should have _made_ him come to me!" Lily didn't think she'd ever been so damn livid in her whole life; "What right did you have to tell him any of this, Remus?"

"Look, I tried, okay," Remus shook his head, looking incredibly apologetic – as if _that_ helped anything – and continued with his explanation, his excuses; "I told him to come to you. He doesn't want to see you."

"Oh, of course he doesn't want to see me, not _now_ , not now that Uncle Remus has swept in and told him the bare bones of the whole thing."

"Oh, don't, Lily. I never would have told him if he hadn't come to me like that; I wouldn't do that."

Lily turned away, hands coming up to her mouth, as the weight of it all, the reality of what this all meant finally crushing down upon her; because there was no way it could be avoided _now,_ damage-control rendered entirely obsolete, if Remus had just gone ahead and confirmed it all to Harry.

Everything, e _verything_ that they had done, that they had been fighting for, all snuffed out and now Grace would be in danger and Severus would lose his place by Voldemort's side and _Harry._

She would lose him now, and it would all be for _nothing._

They would be _losing,_ anyway.

"God…I can't believe this," Lily breathed, hands pressed tight to her face, before she rounded on Remus, heatedly; "I can't believe _you._ This is my family - these are my _children_ , Remus!"

"No, don't…don't do that," Remus shook his head, sounding broken, as broken as she felt, as Harry must feel, but Lily wouldn't let that weaken her.

"Do what?" she snapped.

"You know I can't compete with that," Remus said; "But I have _been_ here, Lily, and I have loved your children and, dammit, I won't have you saying that I don't care, that I would hurt either of them like this. I would never do that!"

"You told him," Lily grounded out; "You told him, knowing everything that it would mean, the risk to him, to Grace. This wasn't your decision to make."

Remus glanced away.

"After everything that we have given up, everything that we have sacrificed for this –" Lily shook her head; "How can I trust you –"

Remus' eyes snapped back to hers, then, flashing in unbridled outrage; the words the entirely wrong thing to say.

"Don't! Don't you _dare,"_ Remus' face was a picture of disbelief, as he looked back at her; _"_ How can you even _say_ that, Lily? I love those kids and I have _lied_ to them. I have lied to them for _years._ And that's all been for you. And now you're telling me that you can't trust me?"

Lily could only stare back at him. Because she couldn't back down – no – this was too much, it was too far, the consequences of this were so great, so terrible, that there was no way she could swallow it. No matter the betrayal that was now evident in Remus'eyes, as he looked back at her.

He seemed to wait, as if allowing her the chance to respond, and when she didn't – when she _couldn't –_ Remus looked down.

He drew in a breath, that he released in a tremble, before he looked back up at her, his expression hardening; "You know, I've been blaming Snape, for all of this," he glanced away, as he went on; "I've been grinding him down, pissing him off, trying to make him see what he's doing to you, what he's doing to those kids. But you know what?" He shrugged; "It's not Snape. He told you; Sirius told you; _I_ told you what was going to happen."

Lily frowned, as Remus went on, laying it all at her feet.

"But you didn't listen. You didn't _care._ You knew what you were doing. You knew how much this was going to hurt us; hurt Harry," he released a breath, shaking his head with a scoff; "But you did it anyway."

Remus and Lily looked at one another, as the weight of the accusation hung over them.

And there was a look in his eyes, one that wasn't there the last time they had spoken, one that told her, that this time, he was truly lost to her. He was gone.

" _You_ did this, Lily."

Remus walked towards and by her, yanking open the door.

"All of this, it's on you."

The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Remus was _done._

He was so done, there were no words to explain just how done he was, with all of this. With Lily Potter and her bullshit. With Severus Snape. With their dirty little secrets.

Remus was _out._

Let them deal with this mess; he honestly had nothing left to give to this fight that wasn't even his anymore.

Remus stepped over the threshold, into his chambers, fully intending on locking himself away until after lunch, when his first class was to resume.

He paused, a step over it, eyes quickly taking notice of Severus standing in the corner of the room.

How the hell Snape had managed to get passed the wards, Remus didn't know – or care – he was not in the mood for this.

Remus rolled his eyes, carrying on, pushing the door shut behind him and walking by Snape without a word.

Though his fingers did carefully trace the end of his wand; he knew better than to be _totally_ off his guard when Severus was about. And, considering the current circumstances, he had a fair idea of why the man was here.

"I am going to kill you, Lupin."

Snape's voice was soft, dangerously so, and Remus could well believe the statement when he looked at him.

Though he appeared calm, his eyes glinted dangerously, and Remus knew that he hadn't heard what had happened from Lily – no, it was too soon for that – something had obviously erupted with Harry.

Remus filled the teapot on the counter, not looking at him; "He came to me. He figured it out."

"And how on Earth did he manage to do that?" came Snape's soft, entirely sceptical response, as he stepped towards him, crossing his arms.

Remus set the boiling charm, turning around to face him, fully, and lifted his hands in a gesture, welcoming a response; "You tell me, Severus. He turned up at my door a complete wreck on Friday morning – after one of _your_ private lessons with him – so maybe you ought to take a closer look at your own interactions with him that day, to figure out what happened."

"And you did not think to redirect him, Lupin? To his mother, perhaps?"

"You'll have to excuse my ineptitude there, Severus, I was a bit preoccupied trying to deal with the mess you made."

"And this was to be yours and Harry's cosy little secret, was it?"

"No. I told Lily just now."

Snape's eyes narrowed, even if every other part of him remained still, calmly furious; "You stay away from her, Lupin."

"Gladly."

For the briefest of seconds, Snape's expression twitched, revealing surprise, but it was there and then it was gone.

Severus drew in a breath, eyeing Remus for a second, before he spoke once more; "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing he hadn't already worked out for himself."

"And what, exactly, was that?"

"Everything."

Snape released a breath, shaking his head, his next words a snarl; "You son of a bitch."

"I do my best."

"You went to Lily just now?"

"Yes," Remus shrugged; "Did you really expect I would come to _you?"_

"This happened on Friday. Three days ago."

Remus only stared back at him, politely.

"You are even more witless than I thought," Severus went on; "This is something that needed to be contained and dealt with _immediately."_

"I have to say, Severus; you don't seem at all surprised by this turn of events." Remus glanced at the teapot, which had finished boiling and was now steaming from the spout; "Tea?"

Severus' jaw clenched; "No."

"It's over, Severus," Remus finally said, when the silence stretched; "It's done."

He turned away, pulling over a cup and saucer with a scrape on the countertop, chucking in a tea bag and lifting the jar of sugar, as he carried on speaking, his tone almost apathetic. Because that was what he felt, now, as the dust finally began to settle.

"And so am I. You can count on my absence, from here on out," Remus gave a wry smile; "After all of this, neither Lily nor Harry would have it any other way."

There was a silence, a stillness in the wake of his statement.

Remus lifted his eyes from the cup to Severus.

Severus regarded him carefully, his own expression as unreadable as ever.

Remus wouldn't rise. Neither would Severus.

An impasse, it seemed, in the aftermath of all of this.

Both of them entirely aware there was nothing to be said, here, not anymore, that would make a blind bit of difference as to what happened now.

This was inevitable.

It always had been. Both of them had known it from the start.

It was the very event both men had been fighting – their own worst nightmares – and they had failed and were going down, both of them, miserably, in the flames. And they had only themselves to blame for where they ended up, now.

It was as if the tension between them had finally broken, in the wake of all of it all; oh, the cruel, bloody irony of _that_.

Severus drew in a breath and raised an eyebrow; to which Remus simply stared back. Before Severus uncrossed his arms and strode from the room.

It was Snape's mess to deal with, now.


	56. November 1994: A Necessary Deception

So, Harry had figured out the truth by himself.

Severus would be impressed if the outcome were not so grave.

Lupin had confirmed the worst of all the possible scenarios – that Harry knew it all – and the reality of that had finally snapped Severus out of his brooding that had plagued him these past few weeks, almost as if he had just been _waiting_ for this to happen, and he cast all dwelling aside in the wake of it.

Along with it, he cast aside any concern, any regret, any desire to point fingers – he was entirely certain the realisation had come to Harry due to a slip _he_ had made during that lesson, though he wasn't quite sure, yet, _what_ – in light of the necessity to get this situation under control.

_Immediately._

Three days Harry had known and that was three days too many.

He only hoped that Lupin had asserted the need for discretion, along with any confirmations he had made, when Harry had gone to him and that Harry had managed to keep his mouth shut in the ensuing mind-blowing the boy would have experienced along with it.

Lily, no doubt, would be beside herself and Severus prayed that she would heed his previous warnings that she stay away from both him and Regulus at the Foundation – under no circumstances was she to imply any connection to either, and especially not to him – until this continuing spy-threat that plagued the organisation was brought under control.

He half-expected that Lily would burst down _these_ doors – the ones of Hogwarts – and demand to speak with her son, immediately. He doubted doing so would be productive – Severus was unable to quite shake the concern he felt for the boy, in light of the anguish he had felt radiating from him during their brief lesson earlier that morning – but it was, by far, the least damaging of all Lily's possible reactions to whatever Lupin had said to her.

Maybe some words with his mother, no matter how much he would not want to hear them, would at least lessen the grief Harry had made so apparent to him.

But, then, it was that very grief that Severus was counting on, in that moment, that would save them all from the worst possible outcome of Harry's learning the truth, in the way that he did.

"It seems that the parentage of Grace Potter has become apparent to her older brother."

"Hm."

"Needless to say, he has not taken the revelation well."

Severus made a good show of concealing his mortification that it had come to this - doing his best not to look and feel like a miscreant schoolboy who had been caught and brought before the Headmaster to confess his misdeeds – as he sat across the desk from Dumbledore.

"Quite needless," Albus conceded, with a nod.

Dumbledore's eyes were not twinkling, as they always did, whenever they skirted around the topic of the Potters and the youngest child's parentage – the old wizard entirely aware of what he and Lily had been up to these past few years – rather, they were coolly calm, as he digested the information.

He was not even looking Severus' way at all, in fact, as he contemplated all that this could mean; Severus could almost _see_ the cogs turning behind those wise, blue eyes as each scenario and solution passed by and he simply waited, patiently, for either his reprimand or his orders, whichever the Headmaster saw best fit to bestow.

After a moment, Dumbledore lowered his chin in a second, conceding nod and met his look once more.

"And you are of the opinion that Harry's current state of mind could be to our advantage?"

Severus almost ground his teeth together at the crassness of both the question and the reality of it; "Indeed. While I am quite certain that the Dark Lord will have felt _something_ , through the connection that he and the boy share – even while attempting to block the connection, himself – I'm not entirely convinced the Dark Lord would have been able to access his mind in that moment – or, indeed, _any moment_ in the ensuing aftermath of Potter's realisation – due to the intensity of the boy's emotional response. It was…quite unlike anything I have ever experienced."

"Ah, Severus, you have always said that he is an emotional child."

"Even I did not expect an impact such as _that,_ Albus, the boy floored me – literally – with it."

The Headmaster's lips twitched a little, eyes almost sparkling but not quite, and he nodded; which seemed to indicate he was not seeing impending doom at that very moment, which was actually a comfort – thank the deities – and suggested that, perhaps, Severus' assessment of the situation was accurate.

"It stands to reason that if you, Severus, were overwhelmed enough by the severity of Harry's emotions – so much so that you were pushed and held out by the grief that Harry is experiencing – that Tom would find it quite impossible to bear the brunt of it, as well. Indeed, love and all the associations that come with it – such as grief bourn of the great betrayal by a loved one – would be something that your old Master would be most unable to withstand or comprehend."

"Then you agree that the intensity of the boy's emotions will have kept him out?"

"Yes."

"Good," Severus said, glancing away. That was a relief. A momentary one, yes, but a relief nonetheless.

"Though his grief will not last long," Dumbledore said; "Which, of course, is something that ought to bring comfort – particularly to his mother – but, unfortunately, when that subsides, it will soon turn to emotions that Tom understands remarkably well. And, when that happens –"

"Yes."

"It is imperative that Harry is able to block the link, efficiently, when it does, lest Harry continue to vent his frustrations and reveal the truth in his interactions."

"It is," Severus agreed; "Though I think we can both agree that I will get nowhere with the boy in my attempts to tutor him now."

"We can, Severus," Dumbledore agreed; "I shall take over the Occlumency Lessons with Harry, for the time being, until a more amicable partnership between the two of you can be established, once more."

"We were never amicable, Headmaster," Severus countered, eyeing him.

Although that was not, entirely, true. Nonetheless, Severus doubted very much that he and Harry would again manage to reach a level in their relationship that would be considered as such – ever – after all of this.

He felt it, that pang of regret, of concern that he had pushed down, rise back up, once more – the brokenness in the boy's eyes as he had rounded on him coming back to him with it – but Severus pushed it aside; Harry would be unaccepting of any explanations or _comfort_ that he may attempt to offer, and obviously would not be at all interested in anything he had to say about it – he had not reached that level of importance in the boy's life, even now that he knew the truth, no matter what understanding the two of them had managed to establish these past few months.

It would have to be Lily.

Or Lupin. Severus could almost roll his eyes, knowing that, of the two of them, Harry would be far more likely to hear what he had to say, over his mother, on the matter.

And Severus was quite certain that Lupin meant it when he said he was done with all of them.

He was also quite certain that Harry would put up a good fight with any and all.

"Perhaps it is best that you keep your distance for the time being, Severus," the Headmaster came out and said, as if he were reading his mind and breaking a more established pattern of just _hinting_ at the things he should like him to do in his personal life; "Until the situation is brought more fully under our control."

"I doubt the boy would let me get within ten feet of him, regardless, Albus," Severus stated, leaning back in his chair; "Though if he were to direct any feelings of distrust or, rather, loathing my way during our future interactions and the Dark Lord were to see and sense it, that could easily be explained away by my involvement in his resurrection. Harry witnessed it, after all."

"I am not doubting your abilities to turn a situation to your advantage, Severus," Dumbledore said, giving him a smile.

Severus glanced away.

He doubted he would ever be able to turn _this_ circumstance to his advantage.

"Well then, Severus," Dumbledore said, getting to his feet; "I am quite certain you have others that require your immediate attention, with regards to this matter –"

Severus also stood, not acknowledging the obvious nod at his need to discuss this with Lily, and accepted the dismissal.

" – my own lessons with Harry shall commence this week."

Severus could only hope that Dumbledore's intervention in the boy's tuition may put a stop to the impending doom that he had always foreseen.

* * *

"I don't think my dad would let me stay for Christmas, Harry."

Harry didn't want to go home this year.

Malachi _really_ didn't want to stay.

It wasn't that he didn't want to spend Christmas with Harry, obviously; he made it sound like a blast! All the other kids – most of them, anyway – went home and the Professors weren't as strict, and they, pretty much, got free reign of the whole Castle. Not to mention a feast to end all feasts!

But Malachi really wanted to be with his dad.

His last two visits home had ended badly – _really_ badly – and he didn't even like being away from him so long, as it was, anyway.

He hated the thought of his dad spending Christmas Day by himself at home.

And then there was the anniversary of his mum's death, just before that, too.

The thought of his dad being alone for either – nevermind _both –_ made Malachi feel sick.

But, then, Harry was still so upset about what had happened with _his_ mum. And Severus. That was so very _weird_ on so many levels, to Malachi, who couldn't imagine his Godfather being warm enough to actually be with _anyone_ , nevermind Mrs Potter. But, meh, he was constantly being surprised by all the things he'd learned his dad and Severus had gotten up to before they'd become parents.

He'd remember that the next time either tried to give _him_ a scolding, for sure.

He would get one at Christmas for something, no doubt, Malachi was sure. If he went home. But that wasn't enough to put him off. His dad could make him laugh like no one else; not even Harry. And things were all really _grim_ around here, these days, with all the talk of the war beyond the walls and the increasing tension between the Houses – Gryffindor and Slytherin, especially – in light of that.

It sounded stupid and childish, but whatever fun and mischief he and Harry could get up to unleashed in the Castle for the holidays, he really just wanted to be with his dad. All this crap going on with Harry's family only made him want to go home even _more._

But Malachi really wanted to be there for Harry, too. He had only told Malachi about everything that was going on and Malachi was the only one who could and would ever know, that Harry could stand to be around – so he claimed.

"It's fine," Harry shrugged, though he looked clearly disappointed at Malachi's lack of enthusiasm; "It was just an idea."

Malachi's eyes glanced in the direction of the top table, in the direction of their Defence Professor, and wasn't surprised to find his eyes upon them, with an expression of obvious concern.

Malachi quickly averted his eyes.

"Have you spoken to Professor Lupin again?"

"No. I don't want to talk to him."

"Maybe he'd stay for Christmas with you? It's better than going home to your Mum, right?"

"She'll probably just show up and drag me home, anyway."

"I don't know if you can stay without a parent's permission," Malachi pointed out, sure he'd seen as much on other kids' forms when they had opted to remain in the Castle for the holidays.

"Well, if she wants me home, then she _will_ just have to come here and drag me back."

Malachi was pretty sure Harry meant it. That Mrs Potter would have to drag him from the Castle kicking and screaming, literally, if she wanted him home that year.

"Maybe my dad would let you come to mine?" Malachi suggested.

Harry looked at him, sharply; "Do you think he would?"

Malachi nodded, immediately, certain of his dad's cooperation – and that would surely solve _both_ issues, allowing him to be there for both his dad _and_ Harry; "Yeah! I'll owl him tonight and ask."

Professor McGonagall approached where they sat at the Slytherin table, before anything further could be said between them.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter."

"Professor," Harry straightened – ever respectful in the presence of his Head of House – and gave a smile, though it was obviously forced.

"The Headmaster has asked that you go to his office; with due haste, if you wouldn't mind."

"Oh," Harry looked, first, surprised at the request, and then suspicious; "Uh. Can I ask why?"

"No, you may not," Professor McGonagall said, sharply, before giving a nod in the direction of the doors, and then head on by up to the table at the top of the room.

Harry shot Malachi a look, before he rolled his eyes; "Obviously Snape's been at him." He got to his feet; "Whatever."

Harry stormed off in the direction of the entrance doors with a glower.

* * *

The more Harry learned about Snape, the more he _hated_ him.

He couldn't believe he'd actually gone to Dumbledore about what had happened that morning. At least, why else would he be called to the Headmaster's office, just hours after their confrontation – if it could even be labelled as such – while both Professors were peculiarly absent from the top table that day at lunch.

He did not want to see Snape.

He'd be quite happy if he never saw the man again for the rest of his life.

Harry wondered if Snape really hated him or if he actually liked him or if it had all just been part of the act, the way he had treated him – he had treated him in so many different, weird and wonderful ways, since Harry had known him that Harry wasn't sure which of the acts were even Snape's real face – and the only thing Harry was sure of, when it came to the man, was that he had been playing a game and playing Harry, all this time, and he had been made a complete fool of by him.

Harry spoke the password, before reluctantly climbing the spiral staircase, figuring he may as well just get this over with.

If Snape wanted Dumbledore there to chaperone their confrontation, fine.

Dumbledore, Harry was pretty sure, was one of the only people in the world who he could actually trust. A tiny list in his mind, now.

But it wasn't Snape who was waiting on the other side of the office door.

It wasn't even Dumbledore.

No.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Harry's eyes rested on the last person in the world he wanted to see; his mum.

"Harry."

Harry frowned, both baffled and horrified by the sight of her; "What…where's Professor Dumbledore?"

"I asked him if I could have a little while to speak to you."

It only took a second for it all to come back to him; the betrayal of it all. What his mum had done and how she had _lied_ to him for _years_ and had a whole other life that he wasn't even a part of.

"I don't want to talk to you," he bit out.

"Harry, we have to talk about this."

Harry shook his head, though the upset he felt bled into his voice the second time; "I don't want to talk to you, Mum."

"Please –"

"I _did_ want to talk to you. All year," he went on, and he hated the way his voice shook a little, past his anger. He wanted to _slam_ her for this, what she had done, but he realised he would sooner break down, himself, before he could do so; "Since last Christmas, remember? And you wouldn't talk to me about it. Well, now, maybe it's time you got to see what that feels like –"

"Harry, please, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But you have to listen."

Harry shook his head, releasing a breath of disbelief; "Ugh. Unbelievable."

"What is?"

" _You,"_ he said, his rage increasing, tenfold, at his mum's refusal to have _any_ respect, at all, for what he wanted; _"_ You never care what I want; you just say 'I'm Mum, so you have to do this, or think that, or believe this, or' _whatever;_ I don't want to hear whatever you have to say because I know that whatever it is, it's just you trying to tell me that I'm wrong and you're right and that's that."

"Harry –"

"What? Even that's wrong, right?"

His mum reached up, brushing back the hair from her face, and when she did Harry caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and the glimpse of utter sadness and defeat in them, too, and then her voice, and how it shook:

"Please, Sweetheart, please just sit down."

And he couldn't hold onto the rage and _hurt_ her, not intentionally, no matter how much she had hurt him.

Harry drew in a breath and then did as she asked, heading towards the couch at the side of the room, sitting down, and did his best not to tense when she sat down next to him; close enough that their legs touched.

They were quiet for a minute, as if his mum didn't quite no what to say. And Harry had no idea what to say, either, so he just kept schtum until she finally spoke.

"I'm not sure what your Uncle Remus told you – "

Harry looked at her, sharply; "Uncle Remus came to you about this?"

She frowned; "Yes."

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he glowered, darkly, at the new information;"Can't trust anyone around here."

"Of course, your Uncle Remus would come to me about this; how could he not? This is dangerous, Harry, and it's not something you could be expected to handle by yourself."

"Because I'm so dumb."

"It's not about intelligence or maturity or trust, Harry, this is about your safety. Yours and Grace's," his mum said, as if he were, indeed, stupid; "I told you, months ago, that it's not safe for you to know this information. Not for any of us."

"Yeah. Yeah, right. It's not safe. I get it. Snape's a spy – a Death Eater – and people would want him dead, and people want me dead, and people would get to Grace; I get it, okay," Harry hated how juvenile he sounded but if his mum was determined to treat him as a child, well, whatever; "What I _don't_ get is why you even got together in the first place. What I don't get is why you picked him; why did you pick him over _me?_

"Harry, I never did that; I would never _do_ that. Not for anyone. You and Grace, you come first, always."

"Oh, that's just…"

"Harry –"

Harry shook his head; "Tell me why? Why are you with him? Even if he wasn't a Death Eater or a spy or whatever he is; he'd still be a complete arse."

"You only think that because that's the way he has to be; it's part of –"

"The lie."

"Yes. Yes, alright. It's part of the role he has to play, to fight this war. For us. He does it for all of us."

Harry sighed, as his mum tried to redirect the conversation. Always pushing things away from _her_ and the things that _she_ did, and was doing, as if that would make him see and forgive what she had done.

"Mum, I don't care about Snape," Harry stated, with a shrug, no truer words spoken, ever. Snape was nothing to him; "I don't care why he does what he does or why he's treated me like crap – he's got a ton of reasons, and all of them I actually get. What I don't get is why did _you_ do this?"

"What?"

"Why are you with him?"

His mum looked confused; as if the answer were obvious.

"Because…because I love him, Harry," she leaned forward, taking his hand; "But that doesn't, in any way, diminish or change how much I love you."

"People fall in love all the time; not everyone who love one another are together. Sometimes they can't be. _You_ can't be. But instead of leaving him, you stuck around and just lied about it; to me. Your my mum, you're supposed to…"

"I know, Sweetheart."

Harry shook his head, hating that there were tears, now, threatening to fall, and he pulled his hand back from her, swiping, furiously, at the ones that had escaped and begun to run down his cheeks.

"Don't, okay. You wanted to talk, so talk."

His mum was looking at him carefully, as if she weren't sure that she should.

Harry wasn't going to let her off the hook. He just looked at her and waited. He had waited so long, what was a few more minutes of patience, after all.

His mum drew in a breath, finally speaking; "It was a long time ago. Before all of this; before Vo – before _he_ fell – before he came for Sirius. Things were dangerous then, yes, but they were nothing like they are now. We couldn't have imagined that it would have ended up this way. But I promise you; we talked about this, about you, and it was always going to be us three. Always. He wanted you, both of us, and we would have had that."

"If not for Volde –"

"Don't say his name, Harry. Not now."

Harry looked away; "Right."

"When what happened, happened, we knew he would come back for you. We knew the best chance was for Severus to be where he was. It was the best chance at protecting you; at keeping you safe."

"And then you had Grace."

"Yes."

Harry considered the words; they were things he already knew; things he had already figured out, himself, based on what he had learned and what he had seen and the few bits of information his mum _had_ given to him, that year.

"See, Mum, I get all that. I get why I couldn't know. I get why you kept it from me. Hell, I'd even get why you're still keeping all this from me now. But Grace…Mum, you had Grace and you had him and you lived together, the three of you, you were a family."

"The four of us are a family –"

"No we're not, Mum!" No way would Harry have that; that was _bull_ ; "You seriously expect me to think of Snape as _family?_ What, were you really just going to wait until the end of the war and then bring him home and tell me, 'here, Harry, this is your new Daddy' who Grace already _knows._ That's crazy, Mum. _"_

"Harry –"

"It wasn't Uncle Remus who told me. It was Grace. _Grace_ told me. But you lied to me so much, you lied about _her_ so much, that I've always thought she was stupid. That she was making up stories; that she was this crazy, little drama queen, and I loved her and, hell, I don't even know her at all. She's the most honest person I know, and I didn't even know it!"

"Sweetheart –"

"But it's not just that, Mum. It's not just that you had this whole other _life_ and I was just expected to slot on back into it, when you decided the time was right. No. It's…it's _you,_ Mum."

That was it. The truth of it, and what Harry only, just now, realised. It wasn't just that she – they all – had kept who Grace's father was from him. It wasn't that they had lied to him, seen only the Marked Boy, and refused to bring him into their circle of secrecy and trust that he would do anything – even _die –_ if it meant it would keep his baby sister safe.

It was his mum.

It was all his mum.

"What do you mean?"

Harry drew in a breath, before he finally looked at her, properly, giving her a humourless smile; "I know you must think I'm really stupid. I mean, I'd have to be, to ignore what was right in front of me all this time. All that Grace was telling me; all the warnings you gave me; all the special attention Snape's been giving me – I know he's been trying to get me ready to fight, it all makes sense now. I _get_ it."

His mum looked hopeful, for a minute. But Harry shook his head, knowing that things would never – could never – be the same between them. Not after this.

"But I remember everything from back then, too, you know. Before Grace. With Sirius. When you were never there and all you cared about was getting dad back. You were never happy. I remember wishing, so much, that you could find someone – _anyone –_ if it just meant you'd be home and we could be a family. And that you and me, we could actually be together. And, then, you just stopped – like dad never existed, all of a sudden – and it was like we actually had that, and then you had Grace, and the three of us were so happy. _You_ were so happy. And now I know the truth; it wasn't _us_ that were the family. It you and Grace and him. Not me; never me. I have _never_ been enough for you, Mum. Never."

His mum looked stricken.

"Harry, that's not true," her voice was a whisper. At first. A determination came over her and she grasped his hand in both of hers, speaking desperately; "That's not true. I know, I know why you must think that, but you have to understand; we never meant for it to be this way, we never thought it would go on this long; but it was _always_ going to be the four of us. Always."

Harry shook his head, not angry anymore. Just sad. Broken. Like them.

"Not always, Mum. Not ever. Not now."

"Harry –"

"You'll get over it, Mum," Harry shrugged, getting to his feet; "You were never happy anyway until Snape came along."

"That's not –"

He turned to her, no going back now, and he hated this and he hated _her_ for this. More, so much more, even, than Snape; "I hope you'll all be really, so, so happy, without me. At least now you don't have to feel guilty about not telling me. Or that you have to bother them thinking about me at all. If you ever did."

"Harry," his mum's voice broke.

Harry told himself he didn't care.

"Bye, Mum."

Harry didn't look back, as he walked from the room.

* * *

"What utter nonsense."

Severus rolled his eyes; even _he_ did not think Harry Potter could be so melodramatic. He could give Grace a run for her money, for sure.

"After keeping him in the dark all this time what could he possibly think?" Lily countered.

Severus just shook his head, not even deigning to give an answer to the question as, surely, the boy had _some_ common sense and could easily figure out the reasons for secrecy regarding all of this by himself.

All it took was a little thinking.

No.

Rather, Severus concerned himself with the more important issue at hand – _imminent discovery,_ by those whose response would have a much more profound impact than overblown, childish tantrums _–_ and peered, carefully, out the small gap in the curtains of his office. Ever aware of the lingering threat within the walls of the Foundation.

Severus had not been surprised that Lily had completely disregarded his warnings – there was no question where Harry's lack of emotional restraint came from – but he was irritated, nonetheless, having just returned from a _grilling_ by the Dark Lord as to the reasons for Harry's current emotional state when he had come across her here.

"We should have told him sooner."

" _Sooner?"_ Severus couldn't not respond to _that,_ turning in the spot that he stood; _"_ If anything, this theatrical display only demonstrates how entirely inept he is at handling such delicate information."

"He feels excluded. He thinks he wasn't part of the family."

"Ah," Severus crossed his arms, nodding; "And so, he wanted us to put the lives of all within said family – including himself – on the line; throw it all away – the only upper hand we have over the Dark Lord – so that Harry could feel _included?"_ Severus scoffed; _"_ That is absurd!"

"Severus –"

Severus flung a hand in the air, making his way back towards his desk, as he spoke, derisively; "Take a leaf out of Lupin's book and throw caution to the wind. Pin our hopes on a wing and a prayer, that the Dark Lord would overlook or, indeed, be merciful, to the fact that I have set up house with that of his most sworn enemy and fathered his sister?"

Lily sighed, walking towards him and looking exasperated by his response; "He's only fourteen –"

"Precisely. A fourteen-year-old boy, and a _sheltered_ one at that, who has no concept of the need for discretion and sacrifice in these times – a time of bloody war, for Merlin's sake – and, as always, he is unable to see past the end of his own nose; not even for the sake of his five-year-old sister."

Severus drew out the chair from behind his desk with a loud scrape and sat down upon it; he had never suffered fools gladly and even becoming a father, himself, had not increased his patience for it. Especially when said foolishness manifested itself in such an asinine manner as Harry's had just done; over-the-top theatrics to the end, just like his Godfather.

"He understands all of that," Lily insisted – to Severus' utter scepticism, as if the boy did, truly, understand the stakes here, he would not be making such a show and dance about it – and went on; "It's the lies, Severus; it's the deception."

"A necessary deception," Severus asserted, unable to believe that Harry's foolish words had actually managed to rattle Lily in this way, after they had turned this over and over again a thousand times for years on end. The boy may be oblivious to the things the Dark Lord was capable of and would do to them, but Lily certainly wasn't. But then, again, no. Harry was _not_ oblivious; he had faced the Dark Lord himself.

"What else would he have had us do?" Severus asked, in a clipped tone, clasping his hands together atop his desk, pointing out the fact that; "His dearest friend is _Malachi Black_. Harry has seen that life, what it does to him. Is it his wish, then, that we had risked and subjected Grace to such a fate, targeted along with himself, all so that he could be brought into the 'circle of secrecy', to satisfy his _curiosity?_ He is a child and he does not make the decisions, certainly not the hard ones – heaven help us if it ever comes to _that –_ he sits in his dorm room, tilting at windmills and seeing conspiracies where there are none, while the rest of us do so for him – all in the name of his protection – and _this_ is the wrong that he lays at our feet? That he feels _excluded_? The rest of us should be so lucky to be so excluded from all of this lovely business that is war."

"Severus –"

This was preposterous.

And, despite Severus' assertions that Harry was not ready, he still could not claim to have been entirely prepared for an emotional outburst quite like this. No, indeed. In fact, over the course of the past few weeks, he had been impressed enough by Harry that he had begun to wonder if, perhaps, he was not giving him enough credit.

Perhaps he would surprise him.

But no.

Severus could not help but feel disappointed. Even if he had just been proven right.

"He acts as if we have been living it up; our lives a tale of sugar and roses, while he has been caught up in the safe haven of the Castle walls."

Not brushing shoulders with Death Eaters or longing for his daughter's smiles every damn day or watching people be tortured and killed or carrying out whatever orders Dumbledore or the Dark Lord saw fit.

Hell, it would be _easy_ to do as Lupin had suggested; throw it all away and just hunker down in a bunker and play happy families until the Dark Lord did, and _would,_ eventually track them down and kill them all for his betrayal and Harry's existence.

"What else is he expected to believe, after all Grace has told him about you?" Lily went on, in defence of Harry's ludicrous assertions, " _She_ doesn't know the truth, either, and for her, it _was_ a life of sugar and roses until recently, just as unaware of all the sacrifices as he. How can we expect Harry to just know the truth, when that's all that he's heard and hasn't seen the reality of it?"

"He surely has _some_ powers of deductive reasoning, Lily," Severus wouldn't let his _reaching_ off the hook that easily; "Of all the people who have sacrificed for this war, it is Harry who has both benefited from it the most and has suffered for it the _least._ Frolicking and constantly looking for trouble within the Castle, entirely ignorant of all the sacrifices, all the unhappiness that everyone – including his younger sister – have had to endure on his behalf. And now, _learning this,_ he has the nerve to turn around and claim that you do not put that boy first," Severus scoffed; "That is outrageous!"

"Obviously not."

"This is absurd," Severus scoffed, shaking his head, still unable to get his mind around all that Lily had told him; "He cannot seriously claim that he has been living in _hardship_ these past seven years? That he has not been part of a warm and loving home, which you have provided; and that his mother has not done everything in her power to ensure that he is safe, protected, from this crapstorm that is about to befall him, when the Dark Lord _does_ manage to penetrate these over-emotional walls and see just what, exactly, has caused such a melodramatic reaction in his enemy's life."

Lily looked stricken; "He's felt it, then? Voldemort?"

"Of course, he has felt it!" Severus rolled his eyes; "Is there a soul within a five-mile radius who hasn't?"

Lily shot him a look; "That's where you were, then? This afternoon."

"Yes, I was summoned, shockingly enough, and it is now the Dark Lord's deepest wish – my newly-issued task – to learn just what could have possibly provoked such an emotional response within the boy."

"Oh God," Lily pressed her hands to her face; clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Yes," Severus conceded; and may he have mercy!

Lily dropped her hands, looking both rattled and furious, as if it were _he_ that was to blame for all of it; "If we'd told him sooner, we could have prevented this! He might have been able to think rationally; he wouldn't have taken it so badly –"

"It is precisely _because_ of the way in which Harry learned of it, that will prove vital to our preservation. If we are very lucky, I might add," Severus interrupted her; "It is only because Harry is unable to filter and control his over-the-top emotional response to all of this that the Dark Lord has _not_ managed to get in and see what is going on for himself."

Lily considered the information.

"Oh."

"One of the _only_ benefits, I might add," Severus added, to Lily's glower; "Unfortunately, that means we are now on an ever-decreasing countdown to when the Dark Lord _is_ able to do so; and it is necessary that Harry either gets himself under control enough to prove to us that he is, in fact, capable of treating this information with the delicacy that it deserves or – just as unlikely – that he finally manages to make enough progress in his Occlumency training to keep the Dark Lord at bay."

"And how is he going to do that, Severus?" Lily challenged, eyeing him with an entirely unimpressed look; "Your attitude here isn't much better than Harry's; you're not even trying to see his point of view and if you go in so antagonistically then there's no way he's going to listen to anything that you have to say during these lessons."

"I quite agree; for that reason, the Headmaster is going to be taking over the training from now on."

There was a silence in the wake of his revelation.

Not for long, though.

" _What?"_

"Please." Severus held up a hand, completely aware of where this was going.

"Severus, you know – you _know –_ how I feel about Dumbledore being involved with Harry."

"Under the circumstances, we have no other option. Harry needs him."

"Dumbledore doesn't _care_ about Harry _or_ what he needs; all he cares about is getting ahead and ending this war."

Severus sighed; "We all want to end this war, Lily."

"I won't have Harry be a pawn in one of Dumbledore's games; no way!"

Severus got to his feet, coming around the desk; "Lily, how many times must we discuss this; Dumbledore is _not_ the enemy. He is our Leader, in all of this, and the only chance that any of us have got. Certainly, his methods may be questionable at times – which you ought to know nothing of, by the way – but that is how it is in a time of war; he cannot be beholden to a single person when he has the faith of thousands upon his shoulders."

"Oh, that is so comforting, Severus," Lily shook her head, glancing away.

"As it so happens, none of what we are discussing with regards to it will even matter, in the end, if he is unable to get Harry's mind back on track to what actually _is_ important in all of this and teach him what he needs to know."

"Severus –"

"Harry does not only know that I am Grace's father; he knows _everything._ There is no way that I can spin any of this to our advantage, if that becomes apparent to the Dark Lord; no chance. I will be dead on the spot and the three of you will be left entirely vulnerable and what then; will your pride lead you to turn your back on Dumbledore and go it alone?"

Lily looked at him, as incredulous in that moment as he had been throughout the entirety of their earlier discussion about Harry's reaction to all of this.

"Are you seriously talking about what you want me to do when you're dead, Severus?" she asked, furiously, as if it would be something of a _choice_ of his, when it did.

"Yes," Severus conceded, because it was time for them to finally discuss strategy in case of the possibility that it did. He and Regulus, entirely aware of the stakes, had done so, years before – what they would do for one another's families if it came to that; "When it happens –"

" _When?"_

"If," Severus corrected himself – as ever increasing the likelihood and nearness of the possibility seemed to be getting, he doubted Lily would appreciate the pessimism – and went on, calmly; "If that were to happen; I need to know that you will cast aside these misplaced reservations and trust him. Trust that he will do whatever he can to keep you all safe."

"I _don't_ trust that he will keep us safe."

"Lily –"

"And I don't trust that he's going to do all that he can to help Harry, either," Lily went on, stubborn to the end; "Especially not now; he's vulnerable, Severus, you think Dumbledore won't use this to his advantage?"

"Of course, he wouldn't," Severus denied the possibility; entirely unwilling to believe the Headmaster would be so ruthless with the life of a child.

"God, Severus, you didn't _see_ him; you didn't hear the things he said to me," Lily burst out, finally seeming to lose the grip she had been holding over herself since his arrival; "You're acting like this was just some typical teenage tantrum, but it wasn't, alright? I've lost him to all of this and for what? Voldemort, he's going to come after us, anyway! And here you are talking about your impending death as if it's bloody inevitable!"

"That is not what I'm saying," Severus sighed; "The situation is not entirely hopeless. Not if Dumbledore can prevent it. And you have not lost Harry –"

"He's never going to forgive me for this."

"You're his mother. Of course, he will."

"Not this time; it's too much, it's too far."

"Lily –"

"You're right, Severus. I'm his mother, I should have done more for him. I should have protected him –"

Severus took her hands in his, stepping in closer, so that she was forced to meet his eyes and _hear_ him; because he wasn't going to let her spiral, this way, and blame herself for all of this when the circumstances had meant there could not, possibly, have been any other way for them to do this.

"Everything you have done for the past seven years – even before that – has been to protect your son. Your son _and_ your daughter; he seems to forget he is not the only one you needed to be concerned with in this matter. Nonetheless, you have done exactly that, along with providing them both with a warm and loving home – a _family_ , do not let Harry's childish declarations convince you otherwise – and the very fact that Harry is so able to take all of that for granted, only goes to show how well you have done so."

Indeed, if Severus had dared to speak to his _own_ parents with such disrespect, his father would have had him knocked out from here until Sunday!

Lily drew in a breath, the words seeming to get through to her – thank Merlin.

"That he has had no inclining or understanding of all that you have gone through to ensure all of that is a blemish on his character, not yours, and, as assured as he may be of his convictions now, he will _eventually_ grow up – as foreign as that concept may seem – and wake up to the reality of all of this."

Lily glowered at him, obviously not pleased by his scathing account of her son. But, really, how else could Severus possibly see the boy after all of this other than an ungrateful, overly-entitled fool _–_ Black's influence, no doubt – so sheltered and _spoiled_ that he is unwilling to even attempt to see how difficult the situation had been for his mother, so much so that he would throw everything she had ever done for him back in her face.

Severus made a mental note to ensure that his sister – who, of course, would be just as assured of her parents love and protection – would not grow up to be such an entitled _brat_ if and when they failed to live up to her idealised expectations of them, also.

"We should have found another way," Lily finally said.

Severus shook his head, squeezing her hands; "There was no other way. Not after Grace."

And Severus would change their last moment decision to bring her into this world for nothing; for _no one._

"I should have –"

"You take too much upon yourself," Severus said, before she could continue to beat herself down about all of this; "It was I, from whom Harry learned of all of this, somehow. I allowed him to get too close. I allowed Grace to get too close."

He could never have them. Lily, she could understand it; she could _choose_ it. But those children. He could never be the father that Grace – that Harry – deserved. Not while all of this was going on.

And maybe that was the point. Maybe _that_ was the essence of it all, even if Harry didn't realise that was what he was saying.

That it didn't matter, really, all that was being done to and for him in all of this. Because, at the end of the day, it _was_ war, but he and Lily couldn't seriously expect those children to sacrifice any and all that they deserved for it; they were children.

And they deserved far, far more than Severus could ever give them, while he was a part of it.

Severus shook his head; "If we had just stuck to the plan from the beginning – if _I_ had just stuck to the plan, from the beginning – and stayed away, when Grace's awareness made it too dangerous, then we would not be in this situation. Harry claims that he is the one who could not be part of the family; but you and I both know that is not true. Whatever he says or believes, it wasn't Harry that shouldn't have been there."

Lily closed her eyes, chin lowering at his assertion.

Severus released one of the hands he held, reaching up to caress the side of her hair, and she, crumbled, then, stepping in further and he held her close, as the reality of all of this – every good and bad, and wrong and right decision – came down upon them, then and there; because, he had to admit it.

It was a necessary deception, yes.

But neither a right one; nor a wrong one.

It just _was._

And, now, there was nothing that anyone of them could do, but live with it. And everything else that followed as it all began to unravel.

* * *

Regulus could do nothing but stare.

Severus tapped his index finger on the desk, only meeting Regulus' look evenly, as he finished up relaying everything that was currently going on with Harry – and Grace and Lily– to him, the truth of Severus' family life finally laid bare, after years of almost-silence between them on the matter.

Severus was quite certain that Regulus was aware of most of it – he had a brain, after all, and the power of deductive reasoning, as he had just been marvelling at Harry's lack of, during his conversation with Lily – it would not have taken much for him to have figured it all out.

Still, even then, Regulus looked startled at all that Severus had said – and what it could now mean – as they finished up reasserting one another's earlier promises that – if it _should_ come to it – neither had to worry about their families, their children, if the other should fall.

While Regulus had always been entirely certain that he would be the first to go – _"I'll save a nice spot in Hell for us both, Severus, don't you worry"_ he had once joked – Severus couldn't quite shake the feeling that, actually, he was really just living on borrowed time, himself, at the moment. There had been far too many near misses, these past few months, for him to be at all certain that it wouldn't take just one more slip and that would be it.

Regulus finally just nodded and, with one finger, slid the untouched glass of firewhiskey in front of him in Severus' direction.

Severus down it in a single gulp.

"Well. That certainly is a pickle," Regulus said, clearing his throat and looking at an utter loss as to what to say. He lifted a letter from the corner of his desk, and Severus quickly recognised the handwriting of his Godson upon the front of it; "I did wonder at Malachi's request."

Severus raised an eyebrow, curiously.

Regulus held it up; "It seems Harry would like to spend the holidays with us in Scotland this year."

Severus rolled his eyes.

Of course, the dramatics go on.

Regulus nodded, unfolding it and reading from the note; "Apparently, Harry has developed quite the interest in fishing these days –"

Severus reacted, immediately, to the assertion – the obvious nod to the memory with James Potter – and Regulus met his eyes, curiously, but didn't press the matter.

"- and would like to see the village," Regulus shrugged; "He is welcome, of course. Not that there is much opportunity for fishing going on in the month of December. But I would have thought Lily would want him home."

Severus gave a wry smile; "And so she shall."

"As I thought."

Then again, perhaps the opportunity of spending the holidays with Regulus and Malachi would do Harry the world of good. His time at home would be nothing but doom and gloom, in light of all these recent revelations, and some time with the Blacks – and whatever entertainment Regulus was sure to have planned out for himself and his son that holiday season – would most likely alleviate that weight, or at least allow Harry the chance to forget about it all for a while.

And the less Harry was thinking about all of this, the better, as his grief began to subside, and his mind became vulnerable to any attempts by the Dark Lord to penetrate it. He was far less likely to be dwelling or, indeed, even talking about it at all at the Blacks, than at the Potters.

Not to mention the fact that the alternatives – either home or Hogwarts – would only leave Harry feeling as if he were being cornered on all sides, whether he was at home with his mother, or at the Castle where he and Lupin would be spending the holidays.

All the great betrayers in this big mess, according to the boy's perception of it.

A neutral party, such a Regulus, just might bring the boy back to his senses.

"Go ahead and offer the permissions, if you are truly willing, though I doubt his mother would allow it," Severus said, with a shrug; "With any luck a fortnight causing havoc with you will get it out of his system and put end to these theatrics."

Regulus grinned and gave a conceding tilt of the head.

"I'll certainly do my best."


	57. December 1994: Show Me Love

"You'd be rather outnumbered."

"Oh, I think I can handle the boys for a couple of weeks," Regulus grinned; "I'm no stranger to mischief, myself; I did have a rather devious older brother leading me astray as a child."

Lily smiled, at the nod to Sirius; "I don't know that it's quite the same when you're the one supposed to keep them in check."

Regulus chuckled; "What makes you think I'd be doing that?"

"Oh, that's a relief," Lily rolled her eyes, laughing as well; "Severus thinks it will do him good. Harry."

"So, he said."

Lily was hesitant. Because for all of Severus' assertions that Harry would be fine, that this was just a teenage strop that he would – should – get over, once everything finally settled and that she just needed to give him some time – preferably away from her and Grace, completely, to gain some perspective – Lily wasn't convinced.

Not at all.

Before all hell had broken loose, she had herself convinced that she made peace with that. Utterly certain that she could live with the consequences, if Harry couldn't understand it, if he truly pushed her away, if it only meant that Grace would be safe, and Severus could be by Harry's side and fighting Voldemort from the inside; ensuring his success and survival in this fight that still – oh God – hadn't yet even _begun._

The Wizarding World was teetering on the brink of all-out war – and she had not forgotten the brutalities of _that_ – and they were an utterly broken and wretched mess, the lot of them; Harry unable to _look_ , nevermind listen, to any of them – not even Remus, who had always been able to get through to him – and this was a disaster.

It was all over before it had even started.

Severus was so certain of Harry's inability to keep all of this to himself, of her need to be ready for the inevitable, that he may as well have summoned a clerk to begin the composition of his Bequeathment Notice. His mind entirely on the _rational_ side of all of this, the infuriating logistics of the steps that needed to be taken in the event of his death, and that offered no comfort whatsoever; not to her and, certainly, not to Harry. Harry, who was locked up in the Castle with only his brooding thoughts, stringing together half-truths and coming up with disastrous conclusions, with no one there who understood.

And now he didn't even want to come home for Christmas, his note requesting or, rather, _informing_ her that he would not be doing so – that Mr Black had granted the necessary permissions – and that he 'might' see her and Grace at Easter.

Normally – and she _wanted_ to – she wouldn't even entertain the notion and would insist that Harry was coming home. Absolutely no way would he be spending Christmas anywhere other than with his own family – their time apart during the year long enough as it is – and especially _now_ , when he doubted he was even included under that title. She would _make_ him see and hear and understand, if that's what it took; but, then, it was her inability to think clearly and jump right in and follow her out of control instincts that always, _always_ proved wrong.

So, maybe, she _should_ do as Harry asked this time. Give him the time, the space he needed, to think about all of this and hate the world – or forget about it, as Malachi and Regulus were sure to make him do – for a little while. And, then, once he was ready to listen, when he was ready to talk, she would be there to do so, and they could try and put the pieces of all of this back together.

But, then, Lily had never seen that look from her son before – even in their darkest days, long before now – that utter brokenness in his eyes as he had looked at her.

And she _wanted_ , desperately, for Harry to come home the next month so that she could fix this and explain and make him see why, _why_ she had done all of this and how it wasn't true, the things that he'd said to her; that he wasn't enough, that he had never made her happy.

 _God_ , Harry was the _only_ person that had made her happy back then; the only thing in the world worth even waking up for in the mornings and she had been so desperate to get his father back for them, that she had been stupid, blind and too close to it all to see what she was doing to him.

She had realised, too late, it seemed. And then had come _more_ blindness to everything around her, and _more_ mistakes and, hell, he and Remus were right. This _was_ all on her. All of them were right.

And she had no clue, no idea how to possibly fix it.

"You alright?"

Lily started when she sat, on the other side of Regulus' desk, when he addressed her. He was looking at her, with guarded concern, and she realised her mind had wandered.

Lily forced a smile; "Just wallowing. It's rather a mess."

Regulus got a sympathetic smile and nodded, almost politely, but said nothing.

"I suppose Severus told you? Why Malachi's asking him to yours this Christmas."

"Yes, we had words," Regulus conceded; "I'll keep it in mind, if he should join us. Though I doubt Harry would want to talk to me about it all. Of the two of us, Malachi is always the ear that gets the bending; he has that way about him."

"You've done so well with him."

Regulus gave a small laugh, a bashful shrug, as he glanced away; "No credit on me."

"Please. That boy worships you."

Regulus shook his head, with a laugh; "More fool him."

"Regulus –"

He shot another smile – it looked so genuine, she could almost believe it was real – and then waved a hand; "I try to make light of it for him. Malachi, he…Well, he knows the rules. I make a point of not always drumming home the truth of the big bad world; it keeps us smiling. He's very keen to get on down to London this year. But I think I may have to play it a bit safer, this time, and stick to the north."

"You'd still take them out? Even now?"

"Well. There are higher precautions to take, of course; escape routes and portkeys and we are rather restricted to Muggle-World locations and activities – which, granted, isn't exactly my forte – but we'll find our way about."

"You almost make it sound like an adventure."

"I imagine they'd return to the Castle pretty stir crazy if I keep them locked up all Christmas. But I could do so – I'd find something to keep us busy – if you're not comfortable with us going out."

Lily wasn't comfortable with it, not really. The thought Harry not only being away from home, but also outside of the confines of the house – especially in light of Voldemort's re-emergence – was enough to give her palpitations!

"Are you?" Lily asked; "Comfortable with it?"

"Not at all," Regulus admitted, with a wry smile; "But those are my burdens to bear. Malachi enjoys himself, which is really what matters when we do. I try to make him forget. That he's living a lesser life than he deserves; it works, for a little while."

Lily held his look, even when the smile on his face dwindled.

Of all the people who could give some insight into how to raise a son, in light of their own, terrible mistakes, it was surely Regulus.

"What do you think of it, Regulus?"

He tilted his head to the side, squinting a little as he frowned. He didn't answer, just looked at her, questioningly, as if he either did not want to answer or wasn't sure what she was asking in the first place.

"About Severus and I keeping Harry in the dark about all of this," Lily elaborated, uneasily; "You surely have an opinion."

Regulus looked hesitant. Extremely hesitant.

Which only meant he knew that his opinion of it all was not something she was going to want to hear.

He drew in a breath, shaking his head as he shrugged.

"I think in these times, we are forced into situations where we have to make difficult choices to protect the people that we care for. Even if those choices may seem cruel to the very people we mean to protect."

Lily nodded, slowly, as she digested the words.

"You think what we did was cruel?"

" _Me_?" Regulus looked startled before he laughed, in a wholly humourless manner, as he averted his eyes; as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world for her to ask his judgment on all of this.

There was a silence, when his laughter subsided, in which she waited, and he didn't meet her eyes. His own thoughts seeming in a whole other world, entirely, as the index finger of his hand that was laid upon his desk tapped, distractingly.

After a moment, he drew in a breath, finally meeting her gaze and his own look was guarded as he spoke, almost reluctantly, with a quiet earnestness that he had never offered her before.

"I have seen cruelty. I have seen the most abhorrent acts committed by people upon one another, for the best and the worst possible reasons," he glanced down, eyes going to the hand on his desk; "But my son…I wouldn't ever want Malachi to measure his own perception of the world, or of cruelty, against mine. I know things should be different. I know that they can be. Severus has only ever known cruelty."

The two of them were quiet in the wake of his statement. In the politest possible way, him telling her that she couldn't seriously be expecting Harry to understand all of this about the world he was up against; she should know better. She _did_ know better; she knew kindness and family, belonging and innocence. All foreign concepts to Severus.

"You know? About Severus?"

Severus had never spoken of it to her. But she had seen it; it was impossible for him to hide, even if she hadn't witnessed it on occasion, when they had been children.

"We drink. It loosens the tongue."

She nodded, slowly.

"So, you think I've done wrong, then. In the way I handled this."

"No," Regulus shook his head, his expression warm and sympathetic; "Only in your expectations. We can't treat our sons like boys and then expect them to take all of this like men."

"You think I need to tell him it all, then? Everything?"

"Well," Regulus shifted in his chair; "At the moment, Harry is bound to be focusing on all the things Severus _hasn't_ been doing for him – which Severus won't be taking lightly, I imagine? – rather than the things he has. Knowing it all, do you really think Harry would believe he would be better off if Severus had decided he'd much rather just settle down in that nice house with the three of you, live out the contented family man life – it would be quite the easy option – and have Harry face the Dark Lord blindly by himself, when he returned; leaving Harry to die?"

Lily met his eyes sharply; "That's what you think would happen? If Voldemort learns the truth of all of this?"

"I think if Severus isn't where he is right now when this all goes down, that the Dark Lord is going to win this war," Regulus stated, with a blunt honesty that told her that he believed it could be no other way; "We'll all either be dead or wishing we were. And all this talk of cruel realities in this most-comfortable office will mean nothing. We've seen it, Severus and I; the world that awaits us when the Dark Lord finally rises."

Regulus glanced in the direction of the window; as if he were looking into the very reality that he believed was forthcoming, if they all should fall and be unable to pull all of this together.

"I don't envy Severus' position; not at all," Regulus went on; "He has managed to do for a decade, things that I couldn't do even for five minutes. Things that our boys could never imagine. But, soon enough, it won't just be a thing of imagination anymore; they're going to know it. They're going to see it."

Lily pressed her hand to her forehead; "I should have tried harder. I should have protected him from all of this. If he had never known, if I had just taken him away –"

"I tried that," Regulus gave a wry smile, shaking his head; "Keeping Malachi in the dark. It doesn't work. He's asking questions now; questions I don't think I'll ever be able to give him the answers to. We all have our sins to atone for," he shrugged; "But you and Severus, you did what you had to, to keep your family safe. We all need our reasons to keep fighting. And Harry needs Severus – we _all_ need Severus, Merlin help us – to be where he is. We know that. Harry doesn't. As much as we want to preserve that innocence; they can't be boys forever."

Regulus drew in a breath, beginning to look flustered; "So, yes, I suppose, would be the _short_ answer to your question," he finished neither able to help chuckling, as his tone noticeably lightened almost as if he were embarrassed to find himself speaking and answering her question at all.

"Right," she smiled.

He nodded; "You have to talk to him."

Lily looked at him, nodding, slowly. Surprised at him, and how well he was able to understand it all, not only why she and Severus did it; but the weight Harry would be carrying in the aftermath, now that her son had learned the truth.

She gave him a smile; "I had no idea that you were so _wise,_ Regulus."

Regulus scoffed, glancing away and grinning, the heaviness of their discussion seeming to evaporate instantly in the wake of his smile. The mask he wore.

And yes. Lily couldn't imagine a better person for Harry to be with, right now. Who could see it all, the truth of it, but still find it within himself to see brightness and hope and keeping smiling, in the face of utter disaster, and she raised an eyebrow.

"You think you'll be able to handle the both of them next month, then?"

Regulus gave a downwards tilt of the chin.

"It would be my pleasure."

* * *

Harry glowered, furiously, at the letter that had arrived in the owl post that morning.

It was from his mum.

His mum, who had probably only received his own letter the day before telling her of his intentions to spend Christmas next month in Scotland – with Regulus and Malachi – rather than with her – daring her to come down here and stop him, because that's what it would take, and he had been stupid enough to believe that she would.

No.

Here it was, in black and white, the immediately granted permissions from his mother – not even twenty-four-hours later – telling him that that was just _fine._ Go ahead and spend Christmas at the Blacks this year; she wouldn't put up any fuss about it, not at all.

And why would she, Harry thought, bitterly.

She had her own little family to spend the holidays with, now; and if Harry wasn't going to be there then obviously _Snape_ could be, and the three of them could happily spend the holiday – their first Christmas, the three of them – together, without the burden of James Potter's son dampening the occasion. Or stopping them from being together entirely.

Harry scrunched up the letter and flung it from the Gryffindor table.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked, with a frown.

"Peachy," Harry muttered, darkly, grabbing his schoolbag from the floor and getting to his feet.

"Oh, are you heading for your Defence Lesson with Professor Lupin, Harry?" Hermione asked, perking up, immediately; "Could you ask him –"

"I'm not going to any more of those fucking lessons," Harry bit out, before he stormed out of the Great Hall, ignoring any and all of the looks that his classmates and teachers were giving him, in light of his outburst.

Not stopping until he finally got to his dorm room, swiping furiously at the tears in his eyes, as he sat down heavily on his bed.

Fine.

_Fine._

If his mum didn't care, he didn't either.

He didn't.

He didn't, he didn't, he didn't!

He hated the lot of them!

The lamp next to him suddenly exploded, making him jump. And the fright he got made him let out a sound, almost like a sob. And then another. Another.

Until he finally just gave in and crumbled, lying back down on the bed.

* * *

It had been – oh, almost five weeks (as if he weren't counting) – since the day that Julia had left the cottage in Scotland and Regulus had failed in her unspoken challenge to offer up a good enough reason for her to come back to him.

She hadn't come back.

Those five weeks had done _nothing_ to dull his longing or his thoughts of her, which was absurd. Even if they _had_ been something, anything at all, their time apart now had almost amounted to the same as that of the time they had spent together.

Regulus should surely be well over all of it by now.

But he wasn't, funnily enough.

He wanted to _be_ with her so, that it had settled almost like an ache within him; whoever set the standard that to _fall_ was something that ought to be strived for, the pinnacle of being, was an idiot.

Perhaps the dark, heavy weight of everything that was going on at the Foundation was causing it to linger – the knowledge that this world was utter shite and she had made him think differently for a little while – or perhaps it was just that he was as weak as he had always been, once bloody emotions got involved.

And Lily Potter certainly hadn't helped when she had come to him the day before, asking him – _him_ – for advice on her family and hers and Severus' choices regarding it as if he had any sort of wisdom on the matter of how to protect and raise a child.

Certainly, his son was the only thing good in his life but the utter goodness of how his boy had turned out was certainly no reflection on _him._ That was all Malachi.

If anything, his conversation with Lily ought to have cemented to Regulus the fact that love – oh, hell, was he even daring to _think_ it – was so, _so_ not something to let yourself get caught up in. Not at all. Love conquers all, yes, and that – ha, _that –_ is not necessarily a good thing.

A more appropriate turn of phrase would be love conquers _everything_ , so hold onto your bloody hats; because it's all downhill from here.

He wasn't here looking for Julia, Regulus told himself, when he had found himself in the pub the very next night, the very one that had started all of this, some months before. He wasn't.

He just wanted to find someone – anyone – else, that could make him forget about her.

"She hasn't been here."

Obviously, the truth, even when he was lying to himself, was so transparent that even Melinda could pick up on his true motives for being there.

"Who?" Regulus played innocent, giving the bargirl a smile as he lifted his glass of firewhiskey to his lips for a drink.

"Julia."

Regulus grinned, shaking his head as he lowered the glass back to the bar; "What makes you think I'd be looking for Julia?"

Melinda laughed, rolling her eyes – for she had borne witness to it all, the whole time, that first month, before he had swept Julia off to Scotland for a week of pure bliss – before she said; "What, indeed?"

Regulus shook his head, downing the rest of the liquid in his glass and enjoying the burn; "I'm not so particular." He held the glass back towards her.

She filled it up, glancing at him, almost coyly.

"In that case, my shift's up in an hour, if you fancy hanging about."

Regulus met her eyes, doing his best not to frown at the offer, and she gave him a small smile, that was so innocently hopeful, while at the same time managing to make herself suddenly look very, very young.

"How old are you, Mel?"

She glanced over him, up and down, seeming to straighten a little at the question; as if that might make her appear more womanly; "Eighteen."

"Hmm," Regulus nodded and gave her a smile, careful not to be quite as flirty as he had always been with her in the past; "'fraid not, Sweetheart."

"Alright," she did a fair enough job of hiding her disappointment, though her affront was obvious, before she glanced out in the direction of the floor; "Then which one is it to be?"

Regulus followed her look, glancing in the direction of the others in the pub. There was a blonde, who was pretty enough. Another. A brunette. He'd avoid them, he thought – both Evelyn and Julia had been dark haired – as if they had some sort of magical powers over him.

Regulus was _bored_ as he eyed them all. What the hell was wrong with him?

He shook his head, giving Melinda a shrug; "Any. You pick."

Make a game of it. Maybe that would help.

"You're going to have to muster up a bit more enthusiasm than that, Mr Black," Melinda laughed, that little flirty twinkle in her eye again, that he couldn't possibly enjoy now that this teenager had actually made a pass at him.

Regulus downed the contents of his glass, putting it back on the bar with a plonk, and got down off the stool; "Think I'll just call it a night."

Fate had other plans.

"Regulus Black."

Regulus glanced in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. A blonde. Someone he was sure he didn't recognise. He gave a smile, anyway; "Hello there."

"Meredith Snow."

Regulus' eyebrows raised, immediately, his interest suddenly piqued.

"Huh," his smile widened; "Well. We meet at last, Miss Snow."

"So, we do," she smiled in turn, in a way that was almost enigmatic and was, certainly, alluring. He supposed it would have to be, considering this woman's job was to get people to spill their guts for a living; "And well overdue, I must say."

Regulus turned his palms outwards, with a shrug; "I am not a particularly hard man to find."

"I think there are many who would disagree with that," she said, with a laugh.

Regulus chucked, nodding; "And are you one of them?"

"Oh, most definitely."

"And yet you seem to know me so well. If your article is anything to go by."

"You've read it."

"It was hard to miss."

"And were you flattered by the observations?"

Regulus leaned against the bar, grinning; "How could I be anything but? It's the first puff piece I've ever been taken in by."

"Puff, you call it?" she raised her eyebrows; "And here I was thinking you'd be grateful, for the tide of public favour certainly turned in your favour in the aftermath of it."

"I never said I wasn't grateful, Miss Snow," he said, in turn, his smile softening, somewhat.

Meredith titled her head, as she took a step closer, getting rather close, indeed; "Maybe you'd like to demonstrate that gratitude?"

"Ha," Regulus eyed her; "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's start with a drink."

And so, they did.

Carried on with the flirting and the coy glances and the less than subtle innuendoes being cast in one another's direction as the evening went on and the drinks took effect. Regulus had always been good at this, talking his way into a woman's knickers – much to Severus' chagrin – and he flattered himself, that he rarely ever failed in his endeavours.

He wasn't to be disappointed tonight, it seemed – not that it had taken much effort on his part – when Meredith leaned in close, less than an hour after their introductions and her lips went to his ear; "How about we get out of here?"

Regulus gave a nod.

She smiled as she drew back; "Give me a minute."

She turned and headed in the direction of the restrooms, leaving him there to wait.

Regulus glanced in the direction of the doors – the doors he couldn't have stopped his eyes turning towards if he had even bothered to try to get it together, for the entirety of his visit that night – and he knew, obviously, who it was he was looking for.

Who it was he wanted to be with that night.

This whole thing, even the flirting, and just the _possibility_ that he would actually go home with another woman, felt so wrong that it was almost abhorrent to him.

It _was_ abhorrent to him.

What if Julia heard about it, his mind offered up, stupidly. As if she would even care, after five weeks of utter silence from him. She had probably already moved on, herself.

That thought did little to quell his concerns.

Rather, they swelled up tenfold.

Had he seriously let that woman go?

He was an idiot.

Regulus turned from the bar, abruptly, making his way to the doors; didn't bother looking back as he stepped out into the cold of the night and made his way up the street. He didn't even have to think about it; where he was going or what he was doing.

It was so obvious.

Where and with who he needed to be that night; _every night_ , if he had his wish and the fates would grant him it.

And if she would have him; well, he would, most definitely, have her.

Within minutes, he was at Julia's door. He knocked once, twice.

Was about to knock a third, when it was pulled open, widely; so carelessly, as if she had nothing in the world to fear or be cautious about. Because she didn't. So utterly untouched by all of it.

Julia's eyes widened, and she got a slow smile, when she took in the sight of him standing there.

"Well," she finally said, and there was laughter in her voice; "Regulus Black. Didn't think I'd be seeing you darkening my doorstep for a long while, yet."

"And here was me thinking I was the one waiting for you."

"I never said I was waiting."

Regulus laughed; "Merlin Forbid."

Julia eyed him, her gaze warm and she was evidently happy to see him. But, he doubted, it did not even come close to how happy he was to see _her._

Everything he had pushed down, ignored, denied, it all came back to him, there in that moment – this moment when he finally just _let_ it – and he couldn't believe he had waited this long and that he had ever even wanted to pretend that he didn't feel or want any of this.

Julia gave a small 'hm', almost of laughter, and she raised her eyebrows; "Are you coming in?"

Regulus smiled, averting his eyes, but only for a second, before he met her look, openly and he nodded, with a certainty he didn't realise he had about any of this until now; "Yes, I am."

Julia smiled.

He stepped across the threshold, his lips immediately finding hers, and it felt so _right_ , that he chuckled, muffled amongst their kiss, and she pulled him in further, laughing as well, and he kicked the door shut behind him as she did.

He had never been so sure in all of his life, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

* * *

Harry avoided Snape's eyes, cursing his own decision at the beginning of term to sit at this desk, right at the front of the Potions classroom.

Harry _could not wait_ until he could get out of the Castle for Christmas.

He was tired of Remus' concerned looks across the Great Hall and his less-than-subtle enquires into his state of mind at the end of each Defence lesson – the class ones, not the private ones they had been doing, as Harry hadn't attended those for weeks, now. Harry had been so very excited the year before, when he'd learned that his Uncle Remus would be coming to teach at the school – that he'd get to see him every day – which, now, had clearly come to bite him on the behind. He really didn't want to be seeing Remus – or any of them – at all, nevermind every day.

But then, as irritating as it was having Remus almost constantly hanging over his shoulder, that wasn't quite as bad as having bloody _Snape_ doing so, as well.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of the man anymore. Except for the fact that he was an arse, which he'd always believed, anyway, and that sentiment had multiplied to astronomic levels now that Harry knew the truth about him.

But then, things hadn't exactly been hostile between them before all of his went down. They'd been alright. Harry had – stupidly – trusted him. They had spoken. Or, rather, Harry had spilled his guts about things he'd never spoken about to anyone; his feelings about his dad, how Sirius had died _because_ of him – rather than for him, as everyone else believed – and how he knew, without doubt, that Voldemort had been after him for a long, long time, even before that night.

Harry had hoped to ask Snape about that – being a Death Eater, he'd surely have an idea why – but he'd prioritised getting help about his dad, first, and now that ship had pretty much sailed. He wasn't going to ask Snape for anything; now or ever again.

The first thing Snape had done in response to all of this had been to pawn him off on Dumbledore for the rest of his Occlumency lessons.

Thanks a bunch, Snape. As if having one guy – _you –_ raid through your mind and know every deep dark secret within it – a walk in the bloody park compared to _yours –_ wasn't bad enough, now Dumbledore gets to have a look in as well.

Harry was comforted by the fact that the Headmaster kept putting off the commencement of the new lessons.

But even then, that didn't diminish Harry's sentiments on the whole trade-off.

It was unfair. It was unjust!

Everyone got to know everything he was thinking and feeling and making memories about – his whole self laid bare – while pretty much _everyone_ he knew was harbouring their own crazy secrets. Secrets that just got more and more insane with each revelation.

Mr Black was a Death Eater.

Uncle Remus is a werewolf.

Snape is Grace's father!

What next? Dumbledore is his own long-lost Grandfather? Voldemort is his brother?

Harry scoffed at his own thoughts, shaking his head, as he stood over the cauldron in front of him – having hardly made any contribution to the potion within it at all – and he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a silky voice speak, quietly, behind him.

"Something amusing, Mr Potter?"

Harry's amusement became a scowl, but he didn't look up; "No. Sir." There was a pause between the words; a reluctance to the second.

The only times he met Snape's eyes these days was accidentally, when Harry caught the man eying him across the room or the Hall or the corridors with almost trepidation; and he rarely looked away, anymore, when they did. He waited until Harry did.

Snape pulled his timepiece from his robe, glancing at it, lazily; "We are a third of the way into our lesson today, Mr Potter; is there a particular reason you have yet to start the assigned task?"

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes, almost grounding out the response between a tightened jaw; "I have started."

"Is that so?" Snape stepped in closer, so that Harry could see him out the corner of his eye next to him, and peered into the cauldron.

An inspection both of them knew he didn't need to make to assess the truth; that, yes, Harry _had_ started. He'd chucked in the first ingredient, at least, before he'd begun his sulking that day.

"Ah," Snape finally said, softly, drawing back and Harry couldn't care less that they had now acquired an audience. This was the most the two had spoken since the 'Great Reveal' a few weeks before and Harry found he was itching for a showdown with him, now. Or, at least, to present him with some cheek. Call him out. Ask him questions. Tell him what a coward he thought the other man was, for refusing to commit himself to his mum and his sister – and him – like a _real_ man would.

"Well, Mr Potter, I dare say it will be quite impossible for you to complete the assignment in the remaining time we have left of this lesson. An automatic fail for the entire term, if the task at hand should go incomplete, I am afraid –"

A jolt went through the eavesdroppers, a stirring amongst his classmates, at the newly-dropped information that Harry knew Snape had just pulled out of his arse there and then.

"- fortunately for you, I do have a merciful side," Snape carried on, ignoring the sudden rise in activity around them; "And you shall have the opportunity to try again. In detention. Tonight."

Harry met his eyes then.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Seven thirty, Mr Potter, do not be late."

* * *

The snowfall was light, but it was enough that a dusting of white had been cast upon the surroundings.

It was that, along with the general merriment of the market goers and the spicy scent of mulled wine on the breeze, the fairy lights glowing that hung upon every stand and fence and the distant sound of season-appropriate melodies up the pathway that made for a rather festive atmosphere, indeed.

"So, what are these rules that you abide by then, Mr Black?" Julia asked, as she tucked her gloves into her pockets, and lifted her clasped hands to her mouth to blow warmth upon them.

"Well," Regulus smiled his thanks at the woman – the muggle woman – who handed him the two mugs of mulled wine across the market stand, before he and Julia stepped away; "The first, of course, is muggle only locations," he handed over the second mug to Julia, as they strolled, leisurely, down the pathway that was lined with various festive stalls serving up Christmas merchandise and foodstuffs; "The second, don't draw unnecessary attention to ourselves," he went on; "And the third, the big one, is never visit the same place twice."

"All that I can easily find examples of which you have broken," Julia pointed out with a smile, as she lifted her mug for a sip; "Repeatedly and recently, in fact."

Regulus chuckled, tugging down on the end of the woven beanie hat he wore and drew the scarf – a lovely, inconspicuous yellow and black – up further over the bottom of his face; "In lieu of the rules, there are disguises. And, obviously, there are certain circumstances where the 'only once' rule must be broken; such as when I need to scout out the location before bringing my boy on down here."

"And that's what we're doing here, is it; scouting?" Julia cast a wry smile his way; "How romantic."

"Ah, is it romance you were hoping for, Miss Bradbury?" Regulus chuckled, reaching for her hand and pulling her towards him with a spin and flourish; "You may just be in luck."

"Oh, I bet."

"You sound sceptical and yet it's true; it's something I quite excel at, actually," Regulus stated with a smile, winding an arm around her waist and drawing her closer without missing a beat, as they carried on walking.

"I can well believe it, Black."

Regulus reached up and tugged down on the scarf to first press a kiss to the top of her hair, before lifting his mug for a drink and enjoying the immediate warmth each brought him – both for entirely different reasons; "Of course there's such a thing as overthinking it," Regulus said, returning to the matter at hand – the reason he had invited her across to the city – and glanced around the surroundings at the various hazard points he could identify; "We don't wallow in the doom and gloom of it all and Malachi is quite unaware of all the extreme measures his father goes to before we embark on these great adventures."

"Then why are we in Edinburgh? Didn't you say he wanted to go into London?"

"Yes," Regulus conceded, sobering somewhat, as they walked on by the ice rink set up in the gardens down below; "It is…somewhat of a tradition; Hyde Park."

"A tradition?"

He nodded; "Each year. It's a thing we do; used to, in any case. Something we can no longer keep up, considering the current circumstances."

Julia glanced at him curiously; "Mhm. Something to do with all of the disappearances that are happening, no doubt; I know who that is."

Regulus drew her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple, before he murmured against her ear; "Believe me. You don't want to know any more than that."

"The ins and outs of it all; I see them all coming through my rounds, Black," Julia stated, taking another drink.

"Ah," Regulus nodded with a smile, tightening his hold on her, as they slowed to a stop in front of one of the stalls; " _Healer_ Bradbury. I'm forgetting you're the one that fixes us all up when we're done with the dirty work."

"I do my best," Julia smiled, glancing at the items upon the stand he'd drawn her to; "Looking for some home furnishings, Black? I have to say, these don't quite meet your current décor tastes," she was grinning, as she fingered some of the hideous item for sale upon it.

Regulus chuckled, finishing off his mug and placing it on the ledge, drawing her to face him fully in his arms; "Speaking of which, I have to ask; what on Earth would have a woman such as yourself wait so long before finally gracing mydoorstep with her presence after all this time, hm? I did leave an open invitation."

Julia raised an eyebrow, as she smiled up at him from where she was nestled; "I haven't graced your doorstep at all, in recent weeks, as it so happens."

"Hm. I _had_ noticed," Regulus remarked, with a grin; "Though I hoped that may be rectified in, oh, an hour or so. Unless there's a particular reason why you opted to stay away?"

It was a serious question, hidden beneath the banter. If it was what he suspected it was – something a little bit more serious than just his inability to outright tell her what he wanted – it was an issue that they really should address. And what better time than now, when he was outlining all the various insane measures he had to take, before doing something as simple as taking his son to a Christmas marketplace for an evening of festive frolics, after all.

Julia smiled, nodding slowly at the obvious meaning behind the enquiry as she averted her eyes for a second. When she met his look once more, it was with a shrug, conceding the point Regulus had been pretty sure was behind it; "You've got baggage, Black."

"Ah," Regulus lifted his chin and gave a nod, smiling; "You noticed."

"I did."

"Puts you off, does it?"

Julia lifted her eyes upwards, as if in contemplation; "Hm. Might do." She met his eyes once more, raising an eyebrow; "More to the point, does it you?"

Ah.

Regulus hesitated.

It was as close to 'what are we doing here' as their conversations had ever been. So, maybe it was about him, then, too. And how he could never quite just let it go, himself, enough to let anyone in.

He swallowed, nodding.

"A bit."

Julia nodded in turn, slowly though, the lightness of their encounter seeming to die away with his admittance; the creeping of reality right on the edge of all of this – that he, indeed, tried not to overthink, when he was with either of them, Julia or his son – as it could never quite be shaken.

"Not enough, mind you," Regulus pointed out, his arms around her waist tightening, instinctively; "I'm here, aren't I?"

Her lips twitched, and she tilted her chin, conceding; "So, I see."

Regulus reached up, brushing the hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear; "And you?"

Her eyes flitted back and forth between his, for a second, as if she were considering it – the question – really rather carefully. Making a choice.

And then she smiled.

"As you see."

Regulus own smile came back, immediately, at the concession and he leaned in, closing the small distance between them and pressing his lips to hers. It was soft and sweet, lacking the usual lustful urgency that they were always caught up in with one another.

It was almost a promise or, it would have been, if Regulus were the sort of man who actually made promises. As things stood, all he could ever offer anyone was now. And, even then, he never did.

Not until this moment.

He didn't draw back far, touching his forehead against hers and his lips lingering close, when they parted, and his voice was that self-conscious husky murmur that people got when – well – _when._

"Fancy a ride?"

Julia's brow twitched, casting him a questioning look in response. It never failed to endear her to him, the way she could almost frown and smile at the same time, whenever he managed to bemuse her.

Regulus smiled and nodded in the direction of the Ferris Wheel behind her. She glanced back at it over her shoulder, before she chuckled and met his eyes with a smile. She nodded, placing the mug she carried next to his upon the ledge, and reached for his hand, tugging him to follow.

* * *

Harry headed on down to the dungeons.

It was so familiar to him, the sights, the sounds, the smells – he had been there so often, _before_ – even if he hadn't come back in weeks.

He was nervous. Even more nervous than he had been in the wake of all of the summer revelations. It was almost ludicrous, that his trepidation now – upon learning that Snape was Grace's beloved father – was higher, than it had been back then, when Harry had learned that Snape had been – still was – a bloody _Death Eater_ who could chop someone up into pieces without blinking.

Surely that was something that ought to have evoked a more profound and horrified response. But, no, it seemed not.

Harry didn't think he'd ever get over the truth of all this.

Too soon, he was taking the final few steps to Snape's office and he had no idea what to do or say when he finally faced him.

He was furious with his mum.

He felt utterly betrayed by Remus, and his decision to side with her, over him.

But Snape?

It wasn't like they owed one another anything. Harry doubted the man even _cared_ what Harry thought or said about any of it, anyway.

He knocked on the door, before he pushed it open – not waiting for a response, as he never had before – and stepped into the room.

Snape was standing, seemingly doing nothing but waiting for him, leaning back against his desk.

Harry leaned his back against the door, shutting it behind him, and reluctantly approached; stopping a few feet away in the same spot as he always did.

For a moment, the two of them just stared. Each regarded one another with equal caution, as if Snape was at just as much of a loss as to what to say to him, now, as Harry was.

Harry spoke first; "Should I get started then? Or did you call me down here just to have a stare off?"

Snape's eyes narrowed; "Watch your attitude, Potter."

"I thought it was Harry?"

Snape crossed his arms across his chest, continuing to regard him with a calmness that was infuriating.

"Or do you only call me that when you're trying to appeal to my forgiving side?"

"For obvious reasons, I cannot address you with the familiarity you seem to you crave."

"I don't crave familiarity with you," Harry retorted, furiously; "I don't want you anywhere near me. I hate you!"

Snape lifted his eyes to the ceiling; "Of course."

"You're Grace's father!"

Snape's eyes were on him in a flash; calmness giving way to a glint of fury.

"Potter, I swear, if those words ever leave your mouth again –"

"What? You'll kill me?"

Snape eyed him, looking entirely unimpressed with him; as if Harry were in some way disappointing him here which was _outrageous_ considering the fact that they were nothing to one another and Snape was the one who had lied and deceived him and made a life with his mother behind his back, making a fool out of _him_ in the process.

"Why can't I talk about her?" Harry went on; "It's not like I haven't before. I think about her all the time. He knows who she is; she's my sister."

"A dangerous enough connection as is," Snape stated, finally straightening up from where he was practically lounging against his desk, and stepped around him; "Let us not bring his interest down upon her with any further damning associations that she may have within the world."

"He'd come after her, anyway, if he had the chance."

"With entirely different motivations."

"What different motivations?" Harry frowned.

"Consider the circumstances of your dearest friend, Mr Potter, and you may have an idea of how the loved ones of traitors are treated."

Harry did. It wasn't something he or Malachi did often – ever, actually, as it wasn't exactly a pleasant scenario – what would happen if Voldemort were to get his hands on them. Harry would be killed, flat out; point made that no one, especially not a kid – the Boy Who Lived – could outmatch the great Dark Wizard. There was no reason not to kill him. Of all the times Harry had faced him, that had been the obvious outcome – his death – never the need to make him suffer for it.

Malachi, though; he'd be kept alive. Tormented and tortured and torn apart, all for the benefit of his father's anguish. His punishment.

A fate that awaited Grace, if the truth of her parentage were ever revealed.

The realisation only made Harry hate Snape even more.

"I have brought you down here, Mr Potter, to address any questions or issues you may have regarding the matter at hand."

"How am I supposed to ask you anything if I can't talk about her?"

"Surely subtlety is not entirely above your head?"

Harry simply stared at him.

There were so many things he wanted to ask.

So many things he had to know.

But did he want to hear it all from Snape, of all people, who had proven, leaving him with no doubt whatsoever, that he couldn't be trusted?

Everything Harry said to him, here, would no doubt find its way back to his mum.

Of course.

Harry eyed him; "Did my mum tell you to speak to me?"

Snape lifted his chin, the returning air of calmness seeming to stir, a little, at the accusation; "Would that be an issue? If she and I were in touch?"

"I know you're in touch," Harry growled out; "I know you're together."

Snape nodded, slowly; "I am not speaking with you now, under orders, no."

"Then why are you?"

"I was under the impression that you and I had developed a measure of understanding," Snape stated, almost entirely without emotion, that made it totally ridiculous that he was trying to encourage Harry to be forthcoming with _his_ feelings on this whole matter; "As such, I –"

"Thought you'd reach out to me, out of the goodness of your heart?" Harry offered up, voice dripping with sarcasm; "As if you won't just go back to my mum and tell her everything I've said to you?"

Snape simply looked back at him at the statement, but it was not without expression this time, and for a second it was as if he were actually considering whether or not he _would_ be able to maintain a confidence between them and keep it from his mother. In fact, Snape seemed entirely at a loss in that moment, as if he weren't sure what he ought to be doing or saying to him here.

Harry almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"You did, didn't you. You told her everything," Harry went on, and he could barely keep the betrayal from seeping into his voice – one he didn't even know was there; "I told you stuff. Stuff I hadn't told anyone before. She knows, doesn't she? She knows he was coming for me from the start; it wasn't about Sirius at all, or Mr Black. It wasn't an accident that he tried to kill me."

"As much as you may not appreciate hearing it, Potter; you are a child. A child who should not have to bear the weight of these half-truths that have been revealed to you."

"Please, like you even _care_ about that!" Harry snapped, furiously, realising Snape was admitting that he and his mum had been taking about him – about all of this – the whole time behind his back; "It's Voldemort you're supposed to be spying on, not me! I can't believe you told her!"

Snape released a breath, an almost exasperated sigh, as he glanced away; "Is this truly the issue you wish to discuss? That I may have revealed matters of concern to your mother?"

Harry shook his head; "I don't want to discuss anything with you."

Snape pursed his lips together, but kept his eyes on him. They were almost sympathetic but, then, maybe that was all part of the act.

Everything else seemed to be.

"You know, I actually thought that I trusted you," Harry said, as if it were so, so ludicrous now – because it _was_ , he should have known, how could he have possibly thought he could trust a bloody _spy_ and a Death Eater, after all – and then he swallowed, his voice becoming quieter, almost pathetically so; "I talked to you about my dad."

Snape glanced away at that.

Harry thought he caught a flash of guilt, of humbleness at the statement.

But he didn't care.

No way was he ever going to be spilling his damn guts to Snape, of all people, again and he certainly wasn't going to let himself be drawn in by all of these lies and performances that the man put on; wrapping every other person in this world around his finger.

"I bet you and mum had it all planned out, right?" Harry went on, straightening up, and Snape met his eyes once more at the hostility in his voice; "I bet she wanted you to come live with us when all of it is over. She said as much; that we're family."

Snape gave him nothing at the statement. Simply regarded him, carefully, as if he were trying to assess _his_ feelings on it, rather than his own.

Well, no legilliemency necessary on that front!

Harry shook his head. "Well if _that's_ what I've got to look forward to when all this is over, I hope the war bloody well never ends!"

Snape rolled his eyes, looking entirely exasperated with him; "Harry –"

"Don't!" Harry snapped, feeling his blood boiling, just like it did the first time Snape had dared to call him by his name; "Don't ever call me that; not ever! Don't even _talk_ to me. I'm not falling for any of your dragonshit, alright!"

Harry glowered at him, daring him to shout back or discipline him or, even, just damn well _respond_ in some way, other than that exasperated, disappointed, utterly infuriating calmness that Snape was regarding him with.

Harry shoved by him, back in the direction of the door – fully intending to leave, if Snape wanted to keep him there he'd bloody well just have to stop him; "I'd rather live under the Fidelius and keep fighting Death Eaters for the rest of my bloody _life_ than have _you_ as my dad."

Snape only met his look, evenly.

Hell, did this guy have no feelings whatsoever?

Harry released an exasperated sigh, unable to believe how infuriating stoic Snape remained in the face of all of this, and shook his head; gave up on trying to provoke any sort of emotional response from the man.

"I hope the war never ends and you have to stay away from us forever."

Harry repeated the earlier sentiment, storming from the room.

Snape said nothing at all, barely even reacting to the statement.

Harry wasn't even surprised when Snape just let him leave.

What did surprise Harry, though, was his own dismay that he did.

* * *

Three locations down.

One more to go.

Regulus fingered through the information – muggle leaflets – he had gathered regarding the last one; his next scouting mission. Four planned excursions, along with the two scheduled Foundation events, would surely be enough to keep the boys' appetite for adventure quenched for the two weeks they were to be staying with him.

And Regulus was entirely certain that his own presence really wasn't all that in high demand, this year, now that Malachi had managed to bag himself the company of his best friend for the duration of the holidays. So, six planned occasions, and another ten days free for them to cause whatever mischief they wanted to in the cottage. Or wherever else they thought to drag him on out to – for they'd have to be chaperoned – if their ventures involved spending time outdoors.

One location – the one that had become rather dear to both himself and his son over the years – they'd have to miss out on. Hyde Park. Malachi would be disappointed, he knew – hell, _he_ was disappointed – but it was too much of a risk. Too many witches and wizards ventured into that side of muggle London, this time of year, for that very occasion.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"'s open."

The door was pushed open, barely half a metre, and the head of his secretary – Eloise – poked through the gap, casting him a smile; "Sorry to bother you, Mr Black. There's a situation at the post; someone requesting an audience with you without the necessary clearance."

Regulus frowned, lowering the leaflet he had been reading, immediately curious; "Did they give a name?"

"She did. Narcissa Malfoy."

Regulus' eyebrows rose.

Eloise smiled and shrugged, evidently completely aware of who and what she was to him; his cousin.

Regulus cleared his throat, folding the leaflet in his hand and giving a nod; "Send her in."

Eloise vanished to do so, and Regulus tucked away the muggle leaflets he had scattered across his desk, out of sight, before getting to his feet, just as Narcissa stepped into the room.

"Cissy."

"Regulus," she smiled, warmly, as she clicked the door shut behind her, taking in the room; "This place certainly hasn't changed."

Regulus shrugged, unable to help smiling, himself, at seeing her again and stepped around the desk to approach; "I like familiarity."

"I'm quite fond of it, myself," she conceded, and he opened his arms when he reached her, drawing her in a hug; "It's good to see you."

She held on a little longer than one would normally expect of an embrace of greeting, and her eyes didn't entirely meet his when they parted.

Ah.

So that's what this was, then.

Regulus indicated at the chair closest to them, his guard immediately up; "What can I do for you?"

"Can't a cousin pop on by for a visit, without there being an ulterior motive?"

Narcissa took the seat indicated, as he headed back around the desk to do the same.

"Not these cousins," Regulus countered, with a smile; "Crombie –" a house elf appeared with a 'pop' at his side; " - tea and refreshments, if you will, please." The house elf bowed, lowly, uttering submissive comments before disappearing with another 'pop' to do as requested.

"'Please' to a house elf?" Narcissa said, laughter in her tone; "Only you, Regulus."

"Guilty as charged," he shrugged, his tone light and his smile still there, even if he was entirely suspicious and aware of the motives behind her visit, now; "I'm surprised to see you. Is this about what I said to you, a few months ago?"

He hoped it was. That she wanted out. That she was coming to him for help.

But, he knew, that wasn't what this was, as much as he should will it.

"Not quite. Not entirely, anyway."

She had an air of serenity, of composure, which she had always dropped in the past when it was just the two – or, rather, the three - of them which was a red flag, in itself. The muted civility. She was terrible at this. Regulus played along, regardless, as she carried on speaking; "With Draco out of the house for most of the year and myself twiddling my thumbs in the Manor, I do find myself immensely bored in his absence."

Crombie reappeared with the refreshments ordered, setting about with the arrangement of the plates of sandwiches and cakes upon his desk and then the pouring of tea.

Regulus smiled his thanks, receiving an eyeroll from Narcissa – who uttered out short, clipped instructions as to how she liked her own – before Crombie left them with a pop.

"I know the feeling," Regulus lifted a triangle of a sandwich, taking a bite; "With Malachi school bound now, the days seemed to have lost their lustre, a bit."

"At least you have here, to occupy yourself."

"As did you," Regulus said, pointing out; "This was yours, too, once upon a time. Us and Andie. The glory days, so they call it; even amongst the staff. They remember it well."

"Well, then, if even the staff refer to them as the glory days then who are we to deny them?"

Regulus nodded, regarding her, carefully for a second, before he cleared his throat, straightening up.

Just as he thought.

"That's why you're here? To resume your post?"

"Unless it's occupied by someone else?"

"Not yet. Though with the suspended Fundraisers about to resume, that is one of my current duties – preparing the advertisement for the Events Coordinator."

"Perfect timing. I can spare you that chore."

"And your husband?" Regulus pointed out; "He doesn't have an opinion on that?"

"Lucius and I are not in touch. Circumstances see to that."

Narcissa didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Oh, of course," Regulus conceded, and it was easy to feel sympathy, despite the fact he was certain she was lying; "But you may be, soon enough. I doubt he'd look kindly upon it."

"Severus works here," she stated.

Ouch.

Would she really go there?

"Oh, yes, so he does," Regulus leaned back, clasping his hands upon his desk; "He made a convincing case."

"And you believe him?" Narcissa pressed; "That he'll remain by your side, if the Dark Lord should rise once more?"

"Certainly. Do you think I'd allow him to walk freely within this organisation, otherwise?"

He would give her nothing more than that, on this matter.

Narcissa held his look. He wasn't even trying to hide that he knew what this was, what she was up to.

Narcissa smiled, more relaxed this time, and almost apologetic when she said, softly; "I think you are entirely too trusting for your own good, little cousin."

"I suppose that remains to be seen," Regulus lifted the advertisement for the post they had been discussing; "So, you want to come back?"

"I do."

"Alright."

"That's it?"

"I could schedule an interview, if you would like?"

"That won't be necessary. I'll start tomorrow, then."

"Excellent. Won't be needing this, anymore, then."

Regulus tore up the parchment.

"On a similar note, it seems that we – the Malfoys – have been rather lax in upholding our side of the investment agreement these past few years." She reached into her robes, pulling out a small, rolled up parchment.

"I would have thought the reasons for that were obvious."

Narcissa smiled, handing it over, and Regulus took and unrolled it – the Gringotts Payment Notice – and gave a tight smile as he glanced upon it.

"Very generous," he tucked it away; "Thank you."

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes."

Narcissa got to her feet and Regulus caught it, easily; the guilt in her eyes. The unease and the disappointment that he - apparently – had fallen for this little charade.

As if he – or anyone – ever would.

She was terrible at this.

Lucius was going to get her killed.

"Cissy."

Narcissa, having almost reached the door, turned back.

"Do tell Lucius I said hello."

Narcissa visibly relaxed – not exactly what one would expect of someone when you'd just revealed you knew they were setting you up.

Maybe she was not so far gone then.

"No, Reg," she shook her head, her smile warmer, this time; "I don't think I will."

Regulus smiled; "I suppose you must care a little, then?"

The regret in the room was palpable. That it had come to this; but, then, of course it would. There was nothing for it.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet.

Regulus nodded; "I know. Stay safe, Cissy."

"You too, Reg."

* * *

"Have you lost your mind? You can't have Narcissa here, knowing this."

Severus was entirely exasperated.

And it was not with Regulus.

He had spent the better part of the past week at the Dark Lord's side – every moment that Hogwarts scheduling would allow – and when he _wasn't_ and found himself within the walls of the Castle he was left fretting and wondering how on Earth to deal with the current circumstances surrounding the revelations that had been made to Harry some weeks before.

There was a reason spies should not have families.

Family drama; it was a luxury they simply could not afford. And with each passing day, it only became clearer that Harry had been nowhere near ready to know any of this.

The war was fast approaching.

Death Eaters mobilising and key opposers disappearing and people _dying_ all around them – facts Harry was brushing off with infuriating flippancy with his comment that this all may as well go on forever if it only served his own interests – and it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord made his move, once and for all, and revealed himself to the Wizarding World once more.

With all that Severus was seeing and hearing, it would not be long until he did.

They could not be less ready for this.

"She's an ally; albeit a quiet one," Regulus stated, assuredly; "Better we have her here, knowing what the Dark Lord has her up to, rather than risk him sending in someone else."

"Whatever our previous relationships may be with her, neither of us can deny the fact that Narcissa would do whatever serves her own family's interest and do what is necessary to keep them safe; no matter the consequences to everyone else."

"Not exactly a different standpoint from us, then?" Regulus pointed out; "And I'm part of that family. She hasn't forgotten that. Nor should we forget; she was willing to go against Lucius before."

"I haven't forgotten. And I doubt Lucius would, either, should he learn the truth of how he ended up in Azkaban; she won't be so quick to act against him again, I should imagine."

"She didn't even try to hide it from me, what she was doing here."

"Regulus –"

"She's doing all that she can," Regulus shrugged; "She's as much caught up in all of this as the rest of us. And it's a nasty enough business as it is – war – and only further complicated when families are involved."

Severus lifted his eyes heavenwards; "Don't I know it."

Regulus' lips twitched; "Still no progress with Harry?"

"He talks about the war as if it is an inconvenience – to himself, I might add – and not with the gravity that it deserves. Even if not for the current circumstances, it would be concerning."

"Well, he's only fourteen."

"Malachi would never."

"Malachi's circumstances growing up were different."

"Not so different," Severus countered, before he nodded; "Though different enough, I suppose. But Harry witnessed it, if nothing else, and even that connection between Malachi's upbringing and how it could echo that of his sister is not enough to get through to him."

"Hasn't Lily spoken to him?" Regulus frowned; "She seemed determined that she would."

"I doubt Harry would entertain it, whatever she has to say on the matter," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose; "For now, he's in Dumbledore's hands."

"He is? I'd heard Dumbledore was tied up dealing with Crouch."

"Crouch?"

"Ministry goings on – there's been whispers."

Severus frowned. He had been under the impression that Dumbledore had been spending his absences with Harry – though he had been enough out of the loop, with being tied up in the South, during his own free time these past few weeks.

Well, that wouldn't do. If Dumbledore was unable to carry on with the lessons – immediately – then someone else would have to do so.

Severus sighed, pushing all thoughts of that aside. He'd speak with Dumbledore about it later and there were far more pressing matters to address at the present moment, his time at the Foundation scarce, with all the movements being made on each side keeping him busy. He placed a roll of parchment on Regulus' desk; "The Dark Lord has asked that I assess the various strengths and weaknesses of the Foundation's defences."

Regulus straightened, immediately sobering at the statement.

Severus pushed the parchment towards him; "There aren't many – the Security Agencies have done their jobs well enough – but there are points of concern."

Regulus unrolled it, glancing over it carefully, while Severus waited.

"He'll try to get in through the East entrance, by the Counselling Department."

"Most likely," Severus conceded; "Dumbledore's measures are not foolproof. He, himself, is the greatest deterrent to attacking the Castle. You, I'm afraid, are more of a draw."

Regulus nodded; "True enough. I'll strengthen them." He glanced at the other points that Severus had noted – various weak points and measures and spells that could counter those taken to keep the Dark Lord and Hopkins out – and made some notes onto a spare parchment at his side.

"He'll wait for something big; if he's going to reveal himself in an effort to catch _me_ then he's going to want to do it with style."

"One of the Yuletide events, no doubt."

"Well, we can rule out the first. That's company personnel only."

"I thought the same – it will be easier to tighten security for that event – but New Year's Eve –"

"I'll adjust the clearances."

"Not entirely necessary but it would stabilise the risks. And with these procedures in place –" he nodded at the security measures Regulus was noting down; "It would be almost impossible for anyone to get in with intent to harm."

"I'm supposed to be bringing Harry and Malachi to this event," Regulus stated, leaning back and looking at Severus with concern; "You really think we can hold this off?"

"Well, the Foundation is really under no greater risk than it always is – it is, and will be even more so after these adjustments, one of the most secure facilities in the country – and didn't you say you have developed portkeys that will see to it the boys can be quickly moved to safety these holidays, if any situation should call for it?"

"Yes."

"Then it's the _others_ who will be present we'd have to worry about, if Death Eaters were to somehow break through the defence enchantments and there'd be ample time to get the attendees out, in any case. It would take an intruder just over four minutes to get from the East entrance to the ballroom," Severus said, leaning back; "Have security measures placed upon the ballroom itself, an additional security presence – as a precaution, I doubt they'd truly be necessary so far in – further portkeys and set up the fireplaces to the Floo network; you could do that covertly, I imagine, using your connections at the Ministry?"

Regulus nodded.

Severus went on; "I've carried out the assessments. We could have this place evacuated in less than three minutes. The only risk to life would be if someone were to defy the orders to leave."

"Which no one would do."

"I imagine they'd have to be quite the idiot, indeed, to stick around if they knew the Dark Lord, himself, were present."

"Right," Regulus nodded. He pushed the parchment Severus had given to him back in his direction and got to his feet, rolling up his own written responses to it.

"I'll set to work about this then."


	58. December 1994: Home for Christmas

There was a lightness, a joviality in the air that clashed, infinitely, with the reality of what was going on beyond the Castle walls.

It almost felt like Christmas.

But Lily could barely muster up the enthusiasm for it, even faced with the festoons of holly and mistletoe she passed by on the way to the Great Hall; the festive decor and the enchanted snowfall and the light emitting from the candles that floated and sat donned upon the dozen of Christmas trees lining the walls also doing nothing to ignite it, as she stepped through the double doors.

Her eyes immediately sought out Harry.

It would be the first Christmas since she had become a mother that she wouldn't be spending the day with her son.

Grace had taken the news better than Lily had expected, that it would just be the two of them this year, easily convinced by her mother's reassurances that they could have just as merry a Christmas, even if the boys – Harry and Remus – weren't to be joining them, this time.

It was a reassurance Lily had barely been able to muster up, and she most certainly didn't feel it, herself.

Lily caught sight of Harry up ahead, at the Gryffindor Table, and made her way in that direction; smiling at the odd few parents who had also come to collect their children home for the holidays, dodging the students that hurried on by, laughingly, spirits high amongst them on the last day of term.

"Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" Lily heard Hermione asking, as she neared where Harry was sitting; "You've been awfully quiet these past couple of weeks."

"I'm fine, Hermione. I told you. It's nothing."

Harry's tone was impatient, as if he'd already answered this question before.

"Bet you've told Black what's up, though," Ron piped in.

"Does it matter if I did?" Harry's tone was almost a sigh, as he reached for a plate that was nearing the last few pumpkin pasties.

"Hope you two have a –" Ron broke off, quickly noticing Lily's approach.

"What time is Mr Black coming?" Hermione asked, shooting Ron a look.

"About lunchtime, he said."

"Harry," Lily said, as she stopped up behind him.

Harry looked over his shoulder, sharply, his surprise quickly giving way to a frown; "Mum."

Lily gave him a small smile, despite his quickly growing annoyance at her presence.

"What are you doing here? I…you said I could go with Malachi for Christmas," Harry turned to face her, fully, looking more and more annoyed with each word spoken.

"I know," Lily reassured him; "But I thought, maybe, you and I could have a talk, before Mr Black comes to collect you."

Harry looked at her with immense reluctance, eyes glancing sideways at Hermione who was sat beside him, as if he knew he really shouldn't make a big fuss in front of them about her being there. Even as much as he wished to. Lily was relieved of it; that he obviously hadn't told them what was going on.

"Okay," Harry mumbled, not meeting her eyes as he got to his feet and walked past her, heading from the Great Hall without waiting.

Lily followed, close on his heels, despite his speedy step, and it was only when they were a good distance away from the double doors in the corridor, over by the arched windows that Harry rounded on her.

"I'm _not_ coming home."

"That's not why I'm here."

"Oh. Of course not," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Harry," Lily reached out, placing her hands upon his arms and encouraging him to look at her; "I understand if you don't want to be at home right now. But can we go somewhere else for a little while? Just you and me. And talk about this?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We'll talk about something else then."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Quidditch. School. The weather. Just come out with me this morning. I'll bring you back in time for Mr Black."

Harry eyed her, guardedly, looking almost doubtful, as if he were expecting this were all a trick, but he didn't say no. Not right away.

Harry drew in a breath, biting his lip, before he gave a nod, his voice quiet; "Okay."

He took a step back; "Just, let me go and tell Malachi, first. So, he doesn't think I'm not coming."

Harry didn't wait for a response, turning and heading back towards the Great Hall – without the same gusto with which he had left – and it was only when he was back through the doors that Lily turned away, drawing in a breath, relieved that he was, at least, granting her this much.

A couple of hours; if not a couple of weeks. It wouldn't be enough time, not for either of them, but it was a start.

Lily was standing there for a couple of minutes before familiar billowing, black robes caught her attention and she quickly turned her head in their direction. It took a second for Severus to notice her and he was only a couple of metres from her when he did, giving a double take and slowing in his steps as he reached where she stood.

Severus was hesitant.

Lily was relieved beyond measure.

It had been almost two weeks since she'd even had _word_ of him and the only thing that she had found comfort in, regarding that, was the fact that no news was good news, when it came to his absences, and Regulus or Dumbledore would surely inform her if something was dreadfully amiss.

It didn't stop her worrying. It never did.

"Mrs Potter," Severus finally said, making the decision to stop.

"Professor," Lily held back the wider smile she actually felt, giving him a polite nod; "It's been some time."

"It has," Severus agreed, with a careful glance around them, quickly ensuring that there was no one close by – they were far enough away from the Hall to see to that – and then added, his tone becoming quieter as it softened, even if his pose did not; "Are you here to collect your son? I was under the impression he would be spending the holidays elsewhere this year."

"Just for the morning," Lily stated, while Severus continued to glance, surreptitiously, at the passers-by; "It's been some time since I've seen him."

Severus nodded; "I am sure he'd appreciate that. Do accept my wishes for the festive season. If you'll excuse me."

He made to head on by, carrying on his path to the Great Hall, but Lily stopped him with a quick touch to his arm as he passed; "Severus."

He met her eyes.

"Be careful," she said quietly, before she raised an eyebrow; "You look like shite."

Severus' lips twitched, a small puff of air from his nose, and then he gave a single nod – _"Noted,"_ – before he resumed his steps but there was a hesitancy, almost a stumbling over them, for the briefest of seconds when he glanced up ahead. But it was only slight, and he carried on, as if it hadn't happened, and it only took a second for Lily to realise the reason.

Harry, standing just the other side of the door, had been watching them.

Harry met his eyes darkly, as the Potions Professor passed by him, and she saw Severus' lips move – a distinct "Mr Potter," escaping them – before he disappeared through the double doors.

Lily approached, even as Harry eyed her, his expression just as dark as it had been for Severus. She drew in a breath, giving him a smile that she didn't entirely feel; "Ready?"

Harry shook his head – not one of refusal but, rather, of disbelief – and then he rolled his eyes, with a shrug, and the two of them headed from the Castle.

* * *

"What are the chances of you being enticed into joining us for a Black family dinner, Miss Bradbury?" Regulus dumped the box he was carrying down on the coffee table.

It was asked mere minutes before their final farewells, Julia having been under the impression that he would be occupied, entirely, for the next fortnight with Malachi and Harry and a Christmas of boyish frolics.

"Yeah?" she looked pleased at the suggestion as she approached, and Regulus was relieved, that they appeared to be on the same page in all of this.

"Mhm," Regulus reached up, brushing aside the hair that had fallen forward across the side of her face when she reached him, tucking it back behind her ear and letting his fingers linger there in a soft caress; "It's not often my son is home. I should quite like to get the two of you in the same room together, if you wouldn't mind. Might as well get these introductions out of the way."

"Might as well, huh?" Julia grinned, tilting her head to the side; "Hate to break it to you, Black, but your son and I already know one another. Pretty well, in fact. Little angel, that one."

"Ha. So, he'd have you believe," Regulus chuckled; "In any case, the context is a bit different this time."

Julia's eyes widened, playfully; "Oh, so, you're going to be introducing me to him as someone in particular, then?"

"I might just do that," Regulus' smile widened, impossibly, further; "What do you think?"

Julia gave a small 'hm', which seemed to be of approval, before she suggested; "Next day off is Thursday, how about then?"

Two days away.

Far too soon.

This was a conversation that would have to be handled, carefully, at any time of year – particularly considering Regulus had never once even _mentioned_ women to his son, except during a rather embarrassing conversation he had felt necessary to give him over the summer about 'the wands and the cauldrons', following Harry's suggestion that Malachi was engaging with the Greengrass girls – but the festive period, in particular, was even more delicate.

It wasn't ideal, no. But then, he didn't want to wait another four months – or longer, if Malachi should decide to remain at Hogwarts for Easter – to do so, for things were bound to be serious enough, by then, that his son wouldn't take kindly to have been kept in the dark so long.

"Ah," Regulus glanced away, and the tone of conversation sobered, somewhat, when he explained; "Tomorrow is the anniversary of his mother's death."

"Oh," Julia sobered, suitably, in turn; "Oh, God. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Regulus nodded, forcing himself to meet her eyes; "We do a thing; it's not dark and dreary or anything, but it's probably not the best time," he cleared his throat, before suggesting, lightly; "I was thinking after Christmas, sometime next week?"

Julia smiled, though there was still an underlying sympathy there, that always lingered from any and all whenever the death of a loved one happened to come up in conversation; "Sure. Next week. Just let me know, I'll be here."

Regulus smiled, leaning in; "Excellent." He kissed her, soundly, glad of the arrangements just made.

Julia chuckled, hands tangling in his hair, as their quickly embrace became more heated; "I thought you had to go?" Julia asked, breathlessly, when they drew up for air.

"Malachi isn't expecting me for another couple of hours – not until lunch, in fact – though I _was_ thinking I'd head on over a bit earlier and drop into muggle London with the boys for a while. Every letter he's sent me has been adamant we do so. Might score me some extra points."

"Trying to rack up those points for a reason, Mr Black?" Julia smiled up at him.

"I always need a high number of points when dealing with my son, I'd better warn you. He's far too perceptive for his – or, rather, _my –_ own good."

Julia laughed, and he smiled, leaning back down to kiss her once more, and make the most of this little farewell, that was lasting quite the while, for she had planned on leaving the night before. Julia's hands went back into his hair, as their embrace heated up ever further, so much so that Regulus thought, perhaps, they could keep this all going a little longer; make it a little bit more satisfying, even.

Malachi really wasn't expecting him for a while.

They had plenty of time.

* * *

While things hadn't exactly been warm during Lily and Harry's initial conversation, when she had asked him to spend the morning with her, they were, now, downright _frosty_ following his witnessing of the brief encounter between her and Severus.

"So, what, now he doesn't even see Grace anymore? I don't get it. Why would you even want to be with him? Even if he was alright – which he's _not –_ you were always going to have to lie if you were together. What sort of family is _that_?"

Harry's insistence that he didn't want to talk about Severus and his part in the family had held up for, oh, all of five minutes, upon their arrival.

They were speaking under the protection of the 'muffliato' charm. It was the _only_ moment since they had gotten here, when Harry had actually appeared happy, quickly picking up on the new – and, no doubt, very exciting - spell.

He didn't quite meet her eyes, as he sat across from her. There was a glass of eggnog for each of them sitting, untouched, on the table between them, where they sat in the Three Broomsticks. Almost an attempt to make this festive, if this was to be the only time they would see one another these holidays.

"Yes, I've heard it all before," Lily admitted, figuring she may as well just be open with him about all of this, rather than trying to sugar-coat the circumstances; "Both Remus and Sirius –"

Harry looked at her, sharply; " _Uncle Sirius_ knew about this?"

Lily hesitated, struck by the look of utter disbelief on Harry's face, before his shoulders slumped and he gave a humourless smile, shaking his head.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, under his breath, before he lifted his shoulders; "How long have you even been together? Is there anyone who _doesn't_ know?"

Lily sighed, brushing a hand through her hair; "Seven years. Harry, the only people who know this are people who managed to figure it out for themselves. No one has been told; no one _can_ be told."

"Grace knows."

"She was four. It was always our intention, that once she was old enough to blow the cover, that Severus would step away."

"She _is_ old enough to blow his cover," Harry reminded her; "She told me. Four isn't stupid, either. If that was the plan he should have gone ages ago. She knows who her dad is now. So, what, the plan was just that he'd leave, with her wondering where he went?"

"Severus hadn't been there enough for Grace to notice the absence right away, though…" Lily hesitated, wondering just how much she ought to reveal, before finally deciding on everything; "We considered making it easier for her. If it seemed that she couldn't cope with it."

Harry frowned, staring back at her, as he processed the statement and what it meant. When he finally did, when it sunk in, his eyes widened; "You mean you were going to _obliviate_ her? Take all her memories of him away?"

"We talked about it," Lily explained, remembering the conversation as if it were yesterday – torn over how dangerous it was for her to know anything, but how unfair it would be to take those memories away; "But we thought that it wouldn't be –"

"You can't do that!" Harry burst out, looking entirely affronted; "What if he _dies_! Do you even realise what that's like?"

"Harry –"

Maybe she _shouldn't_ have told him that; with his inability to grasp the seriousness of all of this, there's no way he'd understand the need if they'd decided to go through with it.

"Not knowing your own dad or who he was," Harry went on; "Just having to listen to all the dragonshit that everyone else has to say about him – and Grace would get a ton of _that_ , by the way – it blows! If Snape hadn't shown me…"

Harry broke off, seeming to realise what it was he was saying. He pursed his lips shut, looking away, almost in a glower; refusing to admit anything that Severus may have done for him.

"I know, Sweetheart," Lily reassured him.

Harry eyed her; "She is upset he's gone, you know. You better not have told her that I'm the reason he hasn't been showing up this year."

"Of course I haven't –"

"Because it's not _my_ fault that he hasn't been there."

"I know."

Harry looked down, going quiet for a minute, and Lily let him process it; sitting silently and waiting until he was ready to keep going.

"Was she upset?" he finally, asked, quietly, not looking up; "When you told her I wasn't coming home?"

Lily drew in a breath; "She was disappointed. We'd both love to have you home, you know that. It won't be the same, just the two of us."

"Two?" Harry looked up with a frown; "What about Snape? And why isn't Uncle Remus going?"

"Oh. Um…well," Lily hesitated, at the reminder of the massive blow-up she had had with Remus, that she still hadn't yet had the chance to smooth over – the letter that she had sent inviting him to Christmas after Grace's insistence he be there had gone entirely unacknowledged; "Remus and I aren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment."

Harry leaned back in his chair, looking annoyed; "It wasn't _his_ fault, Mum."

"No. I know it wasn't," Lily agreed; "It's a bit more complicated than that, who was at fault."

"Well it wasn't him, either way," Harry bit out; "So, what, now you're pissed at him, so me and Grace don't get to see him, anymore?"

"Of course not, Sweetheart," Lily reassured him, reaching over to put a hand on his arm; "You'll always have your Uncle Remus; you'll still see him, every day at school, like you do now."

Harry shrugged her hand off, under the guise of lifting his eggnog and taking a drink; "But what about Grace?" he went on, after he swallowed the gulp; "She'll want to see him too. They used to see each other every day," he shrugged; "He's practically her dad."

He met her eyes as he said it, as if daring her to dispute it.

Which she did; gently, but firmly, all the same, because she wouldn't have any of _that_ drama anymore; "No, Harry, he's not."

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot," Harry snorted, rolling his eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm when he said; "You sure picked a real _winner_ there, Mum."

"Harry –"

"What kind of guy would rather be a spy than a dad?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Sweetheart. He'd be with us if he could."

Harry, who had been lifting his glass back to his lips, slammed it back down with a thud, shooting her a frustrated look; "I don't want someone who would be with us if he _could_ ; I want someone who actually _can_ be. So, should you. Even Mr Black would be better, even _with_ Voldemort wanting to kill him. At least _he'd_ actually be there. Or Uncle Remus. Or even just some wanker you'd met in the pub -"

"Harry! _–"_

" _Anyone_ would be better than Snape."

Lily only held her son's look for a moment, at the assertion. And then she finally lifted her shoulders; "We don't choose the people we love, Harry. We just do."

Harry glared back at her, with neither warmth nor understanding, until he finally pushed back against the table, his chair moving backwards with a scrape as he got to his feet.

"I have to go. I don't want Mr Black to think I'm not coming."

"It's barely ten, we still have some time yet."

"I want to go."

Lily got to her feet, nodding, almost in defeat; "Alright. I'll take you there, then. We'll go and get Malachi now."

Harry only shrugged his acceptance of the offer, turning and heading for the exit, with Lily following, slowly, behind.

* * *

Harry didn't feel any better after talking to his mum.

Even with the bits and pieces of information she'd given him in response to his questions, he was still furious. From what his sister had told him, he'd thought that Snape had been living it up with Grace and his mum these past few years in his absence. The fact that he hadn't, and they'd actually planned on keeping it all a big secret from her, too – for Merlin knows how long – offered no comfort whatsoever.

Rather, it just pissed him off even more.

That Snape put the war and being a spy above _them_. He hadn't even bothered showing up to the second Occlumency lesson he'd arranged with him the night before.

He walked into the Great Hall to get Malachi, leaving his mum waiting at the doors, and almost stomped his way up the Slytherin row to find him.

"Here's that book you wanted on the Statute originators," Daphne was saying as Harry approached, handing over a thin volume that Malachi took, eagerly.

"Thanks."

"Malachi," Harry said, and Malachi looked up at him, quickly; "My mum said she'll take us to yours."

Malachi frowned; "Oh. But, my dad's going to come and get us."

"I know," Harry shrugged, rolling his eyes; "I told her that, but she's still offering. I'd rather that, than have to sit about for another two hours listening to her talking about you-know-what."

Malachi gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded, getting to his feet; "Yeah, alright. Just let me get my stuff."

Harry nodded, asserting his need to retrieve his own luggage for the holidays, as well, and the two of them headed off to their respective dorm rooms to get themselves ready.

They were in Crail within half an hour, walking down the winding street of the little village that Malachi and his dad had taken refuge in. It wasn't the first time Harry had been there but the other times he had, he didn't pay all that much attention to it, and his visits had always been brief. This time, though, as his mum led them in the direction of the cottage, his eyes turned, eagerly, towards the wharf and the little fishing boats that were docked.

It was silly, as his dad probably didn't even _like_ the fishing trip he had been telling Harry about in the memory – he was totally hopeless just at dealing with the rod, after all – but it made him feel closer to him, somehow.

The three of them reached the blue door of the cottage within less than a minute of their apparition, to the cottage that no one else could see, and Malachi was only just reaching for the handle, when the door was suddenly pulled open.

"Always a pleasure, Miss Bradbury," Mr Black was saying – an entirely familiar name to Harry – and, sure enough, _Julia_ was there was him – apparently leaving - and the two of them were smiling at one another, though it only took the briefest of seconds for the man to take notice of them.

His smile dropped, instantly. Happiness giving way to surprise; "Malachi!"

And not a pleasant one, it seemed.

Malachi only stared back at him.

Mr Black straightened, quickly composing himself, and cleared his throat; "I was just coming to get you."

"Mrs Potter brought us," Malachi said, his blank stare becoming a confused frown, even if his eyes remained entirely on his dad.

The look he was giving him was entirely disapproving and Harry fought a grin; it was funny, to Harry, how, sometimes, Malachi seemed to be the one that did the scolding in their relationship.

Mr Black's eyes went over their heads, to where his mum was standing, before he turned his attention back to his son and smiled - obviously forced – as he said; "Well. I, uh…I think you know Julia?"

For the first time, Malachi's eyes left his dad and went to Julia, who was standing beside him, and she smiled, warmly – they did know each other, after all, she been at Harry's house a ton – saying hello.

Malachi gave her the shiest smile imaginable – one he saved for total strangers – before he mumbled something almost unintelligible about needing to unpack and headed on past her into the cottage.

Mr Black watched him go, obvious concern on his face – that must be nice, to have a parent who actually cares – and then he and Julia shared a look, almost apologetic on both sides, before she stepped across the threshold, outside.

"Hey, little man," Julia greeted Harry with a smile, a bit more relaxed than before.

"Hi Julia," he smiled in turn, before lifting his eyebrows; "Having fun?"

She gave a hum of laughter, ruffling his hair; "Cheeky sod," he grinned, widely, as she pulled him into a hug; "I'll see you later."

"I was at the Castle," Harry heard his mum say to Mr Black, as he and Julia said hello and goodbye; "I thought I'd save you the trip."

"Thank you."

Harry bit his lip, holding back his amusement.

Mr Black did not sound thankful.

Harry didn't bother saying goodbye, heading on into the house while his mum was distracted with Mr Black and Julia.

The house wasn't decorated for Christmas, as his own always was whenever Harry went home for the holidays.

Instead, there were boxes scattered throughout the living room, a few here and there, which seemed to imply that it was something Malachi and his dad did together – putting up the Christmas decorations – for Harry doubted that they didn't have any.

Mr Black walked into the room shortly after him, neither Julia nor his mum in tow, and Harry gave him a smile.

"Sorry to crash your Christmas, Mr Black."

Mr Black, who had been looking a mixture of both annoyance and concern as he re-entered the cottage, quickly snapped out of it and shot him a smile in turn – more genuine than the previous ones – and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Not at all, Harry, the more the merrier! And you, especially, are always welcome. You've been here before, right?" He kept his hand on his shoulder, pointing first in the direction of the door at the right and then at the hallway up ahead; "Kitchen; help yourself to anything or just summon Kreacher, if you want something hot. Through there, you get upstairs – you know that – and you and Malachi will be bunking together; no point putting you down here on the couch when you'll just be sneaking back and forward all night long. We'll transfigure another bed up there out of his chair or something."

"Sounds good."

Mr Black glanced in the direction of the hallway that led upstairs, clearly wanting to go to Malachi and explain himself.

It was obvious, he was holding back from doing so, only because Harry was there, and he didn't want to just head up and leave him.

"It's okay, Mr Black, just go," Harry said, hoping to reassure him that he wasn't a kid who needed to be supervised. He nodded at the boxes; "Are these the Christmas decorations? I can start pulling them out, if you want?"

"Oh," Mr Black shook his head, his attention back on him; "They are but we don't put those up until the twenty second."

Harry frowned, about to ask why, but he caught himself in time; remembering that the twenty first was the day Malachi's mum had died. He pursed his lips together, nodding; "Oh, yeah. I remember."

Mr Black's eyes brightened, as if with an idea; "Ah," the hand on Harry's shoulder guided him in the direction of one of the boxes; "Except this one."

Mr Black lifted it from the ground, placing it on the couch and indicating that Harry come over; "When we lost Sirius –"

Harry started, at the unexpected mention.

"- anything that he hadn't left to you, the Wizarding authorities sent to me. Not much, really," he indicated at the box with a hand, as Harry approached; "Some old photo albums and Quidditch medals – there's some stuff with your dad in here, too – a bunch of old scarfs, some banners and bulletins Sirius had cut out," he broke off, shooting Harry a grin; "Gryffindor crap, basically."

Harry chuckled, smiling widely.

Mr Black shrugged, looking back at the box; "Anyway, have a look. Anything you want, it's yours."

Harry looked at him, surprised; "Really? But…don't _you_ want this stuff?"

Mr Black smiled, shaking his head before he knocked on the side of it with his knuckles; "All I need is up here." He put a hand back on his shoulder; "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, looking at the box, eagerly, before shooting him a smile; "Thanks."

Mr Black didn't waste any time, accepting the dismissal, and heading in the direction of the stairs.

He hadn't even left the room before Harry had the box open, eager for anything and everything he could get of Sirius, and he first pulled out a photo album that was sitting on the top. He flicked it open, immediately greeted with two moving photographs of his uncles; Sirius and Remus, so, so young and laughing, as Sirius threw his arm around the other in the top one. The one just below, Sirius launching a snowball – obviously with magical force – at Remus' face. The moving image lasted just long enough for Harry to catch a glimpse of how pissed off Remus was at him doing so.

Harry chuckled to himself, turning the page; there were more of them, the two of them, and it wasn't until the third page that his dad popped up. A picture of him and Remus sitting on a wall, his dad giving the finger at whoever was taking the photograph – Sirius, Harry guessed, as there was another boy on the other side of Remus that he recognised as Peter Pettigrew from Remus' picture of the four boys – and Harry couldn't help smiling.

He carried on looking through; the book was filled with them. Pictures of these four boys, barely older than he was now.

And, on the final page, the inside of the back cover, two words were inscribed as if in gold.

' _Mischief Managed'._

Harry grinned.

He had suspected as much, that the Map had been theirs – all the clues had pointed to it – the map that Snape now had.

Harry pushed the thought aside, the bitterness that rose with thoughts of the man; he didn't want to think about him right now.

Instead, he turned his attention to the last photograph on the page. It was his dad and Sirius and Remus. No Pettigrew this time – on the other side of the camera, Harry supposed – and he drunk it up, the image of the three of them together.

Harry reached into the box, wondering if there would be any more – hoping that there was – but his hand, instead, came into contact with soft fabric, wrapped around something hard. Harry frowned, putting the album down, and lifted the wrapped item. Unrolling the cloth, he found inside it two old, identical, small squared mirrors.

* * *

The expected knock came at Malachi's bedroom door a few minutes later, the person on the other side not waiting for the customary – 'enter' – before it opened, and his dad's face popped through the gap.

"Alright?"

Malachi lifted his eyes from the shirt he was folding, as he unpacked the duffle bag on the bed in front of him, to give him a small smile.

"Can I come in?"

Malachi nodded.

His dad walked into the room – shutting the door behind him as he did – and smiled, widely, as he approached. It was brighter, less of a cover up than it had been downstairs – although he was obviously here without Harry for that very reason – and he held out his arms; "What's this, then? Getting too old for a hug?"

Malachi tossed the shirt onto the bed, stepping forward, and was immediately engulfed into the tight, welcome embrace of his dad. He'd missed him, and the smile and the warmth from him quickly drove away the uneasiness that Malachi had been feeling since he'd seen his dad with Julia downstairs.

"Hey Dad," he finally spoke, when his dad drew back.

His dad ruffled his hair, affectionately; "Good to have you back, Beansprout."

Malachi rolled his eyes, smilingly; "Not too old for a hug, maybe, but for that, yeah – ' _Beansprout'_ – where did it even come from, anyway?"

"Would you rather I call you 'petal'?" his dad teased, before he pushed aside the pile of books Malachi had already unpacked and placed on the bed – a neat tower which now collapsed in a messy pile in the middle of it – and took a seat in their stead; "I can't believe you don't know the story. Soon as you started walking, you were into everything. You certainly kept your dad on his toes – constantly going AWOL whenever I was left with you – and –"

"You mean you lost me," Malachi smirked.

"No," his dad grinned; "I mean you kept wandering off. Anyway; off you went one day in the garden while I was trying to get your first little broom set up and there was your dear old – or, rather, _young –_ dad tearing up the garden looking for you. No luck. So, I tried the greenhouse – low and behold – but where would my boy be but digging up and rolling around in your Mum's treasured batch of Demaria Bean Sprouts that she had been carefully growing for almost three months. They were ruined. Your Mum blamed me."

" _That's_ why I ended up being called Beansprout?"

"I find when you make a joke about your shortcomings enough, even the most furious of women will eventually thaw out," his dad said, his grin becoming wider, even if his eyes softened in remembrance of her.

Malachi chuckled; "Did Mum come up with a name for _you_ after that happened?"

"Ha. Several."

Malachi smiled, warming as well at the recollection of her – they had always been able to talk about his mum, just as easily as they were now – and he reached into his bag, pulling out more clothes.

He knew his dad was watching him, weighing up whatever it was he had come here to say. An excuse or an explanation; Malachi was curious, even if he felt immensely uncomfortable by the whole thing. Sure, he'd _heard_ about his dad's reputation – it was one of the lesser irritating sources of teasing he'd experienced while at Hogwarts, even from those out with the Slytherin House – but he'd never actually _seen_ his dad with any women. Not since his mum.

"Listen," his dad finally said, his tone softer, and he reached over, touching a hand to Malachi's arm to stop his movements; "About what you saw just now."

Malachi met his eyes, and shook his head, deciding to let him off the hook. He was pretty sure this was only going to be embarrassing for both of them, actually having to have a conversation about his dad's _sex life._ He'd actually rather imagine it didn't exist, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary.

"It's fine, Dad. I get it."

"You do?"

"You obviously slept with her."

His dad pursed his lips together, averting his eyes at the statement; "Hm. Yes. I suppose that part is obvious."

He cleared his throat, releasing Malachi's arm to grab the duffle bag and toss it further up the bed, before he patted the newly-freed spot next to him on it; "But I really think we need to talk about it a bit more than that."

Malachi released a groan; "Aw, Dad, _please_. This isn't going to be another one of your sex talks is it?"

"My 'sex talks'?"

"Yeah," Malachi responded, seriously, despite his own underlying embarrassment and amusement; "Rest assured that your son is totally aware of the dangers of 'the temptations of the flesh'."

His dad snorted, as predicted, his shoulders shaking with laugher; "I never called it that. You've obviously been reading up."

Malachi smirked, even if he could feel himself reddening, and shuffled on his feet.

"Like you're one to talk, Dad. You obviously got your lecture this summer from a book."

His dad nodded, leaning back and still smiling, as he admitted; "I may have perused some relevant texts for tips on how to broach the subject."

"Sex bad, don't do it," Malachi rolled his eyes, smilingly; "Think I got the gist. Not like your one to talk, though."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Malachi crossed his arms across his chest, eyeing him; "It's weird you bring them here. I mean I know you like to joke about, but when you used to go on about this place being our 'secret bunker' and all that, I thought you meant this place was safe. That it's ours."

"It is."

"But you bring women here?"

His dad averted his eyes, seeming to be bracing himself for something – Malachi's reaction, he guessed – and that was why he wasn't all that surprised, why he understood what his dad meant, immediately, at the next words that came from his mouth.

"No. I don't. She's…um…she's actually a bit more than that. Julia."

Malachi met his eyes, uncertainly.

His dad held his look for a second, before he nodded; "Yeah."

"Oh."

Malachi's voice was quiet, belying both his unease and his uncertainty at the statement. Before, he'd thought he'd just caught his dad with his trousers down – pretty embarrassing enough, considering Harry had to be there when it happened – but, well. He wasn't sure that knowing it actually _meant_ something was a particularly appealing alternative.

Malachi felt his dad's hand on his arm again, urging him to sit, and this time, he did. But he was quiet and unsure of what to say or how to even act about this; finding out his dad had someone, someone other than him, and that he'd brought her here, to this house – it was obviously serious then – and he was reminded of Harry and Mrs Potter and Severus and all the other crazy secrets that had been flying around this year.

He looked up, quickly; "How long have you been together?"

"A couple of months –"

Malachi visibly relaxed, at least a little.

"- we've known one another for a while. But we've grown closer, recently."

Malachi nodded, slowly.

"Okay."

His dad didn't say anything, just sat there next to him, as if he were waiting on Malachi to do so. To say something or asking something or do something. But he really didn't know what to do, on all those accounts, and the only thing he could even think about wasn't even Julia at all but his mum.

"She's not much like mum," he finally said.

His dad lifted his chin, and then he smiled, warmly; "No, she's not."

"She's, well…she talks a lot."

"Yes, she does," his dad's smile widened.

Malachi smiled at the obvious affection his dad held for her – his new _girlfriend -_ but it was almost sad, he knew it, as he couldn't help but think about his mum and how she _was_ so very different from Julia. She was quiet and reserved and shy, Malachi remembered. And it was a bit strange, at least, how his dad could be with both of them, when they were so unalike.

"She's nice," Malachi eventually conceded, not meeting his eyes.

His dad's hand went to his shoulder, his face leaning in close to encourage him to look at him; "Malachi. There is no one on this Earth quite like your mum."

There was a sting at the statement, as it was so very true. No one was or could ever be like her, because she was his _mum_ and she had been wonderful, and Malachi missed her every day, even if his own memories of her seemed to be fading more and more as time went on. Sometimes, he couldn't even remember what she looked like – in his own head – and he'd have to look at the picture on the wall in the hallways of the three of them to remind himself. But it didn't stop the love he felt for her or the pain that she wasn't there.

He felt guilty, then, because what he'd said was true. He _did_ think that Julia was nice. He'd always liked her, Mrs Potter's friend, she was funny, and she wasn't even nearly as uptight as Harry's mum was. They'd always loved it, he and Harry, whenever they were at his house, if his mum had to work and she'd ask Julia to come and watch them and Grace for the afternoon.

But now, with his dad feeling the same way about her, it was different. Wrong somehow; for either of them to like her enough, that she would actually stand where his mum had stood – with them.

His dad nodded, seeming to _know_ what it was he was thinking; "No one can ever take that place."

"I know, Dad."

His dad's hand squeezed where it rested upon him; "And just because we start to care for other people, just because we find other places for them in our lives, that doesn't take that away; it doesn't mean we love them any less."

Malachi looked at his dad then, at the sincerity in his eyes, before he nodded. He understood what it was his dad was saying, even if he didn't quite feel it yet.

"Does Julia know about her? Mum?"

His dad's look turned questioning.

"How she died," Malachi elaborated, straightening up a bit; "Hopkins."

It was always something that made his dad uneasy, whenever it was brought up; how his mum had died and his Auntie Andie and his Uncle Sirius. All dying just because they had loved him.

His dad averted his eyes, and Malachi could see it there, in them, the sorrow that he dad would never, willingly, let him see. But it was a flash, the briefest of them, and his dad spoke as if it wasn't there at all.

"She does, yes."

"Isn't she scared?" Malachi asked.

"I imagine she must be, a bit. It's still early; we've not really been very open with others about it, yet. Not until we're sure that it's something Julia wants to…"

The words tapered off.

Malachi titled his head to the side; "What about you? Is it something you want to go somewhere?"

Obviously, it was. Otherwise his dad wouldn't be making such a big deal, telling him about it. Still, Malachi wanted to hear it, all the same; what his dad actually _felt_ about her, here. He very rarely revealed anything like this to him, anything that opened him up, past the playful, joking dad that he always was with him.

His dad smiled, giving a shrug. A concession, but not at all a detailed one.

Malachi traced a finger on the bedsheets, asking uncertainly, pressing him for more, even if he wasn't entirely sure he knew what to do with the answer yet; "Do you love her?"

There was a silence in response to the question. One that stretched until Malachi finally lifted his head, to meet his dad's eyes. And he was looking at him, carefully.

"Would that bother you?" his dad asked, and there was obvious concern and love there – for _him –_ and it warmed Malachi to see it; "If I did?"

And he thought about his dad and how he lived, all alone in this cottage, whenever Malachi wasn't there, and how incredibly lonely it must be. Especially for someone like his dad, who loved _people_ and company; stuck at home loving and missing all of those people, who were lost to him now, and Malachi guessed he should be happy about it, that his dad had found someone, to chase all of that loneliness away.

Malachi smiled, shaking his head; "No, Dad."

His dad sighed, drawing him into a hug, and Malachi hugged him back, feeling a kiss press to the side of his head. His dad held on a moment, before he drew back, giving him a smile that was equal parts affection and pride.

And then he ruffled his hair, lightening the moment.

"Did you leave Harry downstairs?"

"I did," his dad confirmed, before pushing himself up to his feet; "I'll send him on up." His eyes went to the bed, catching sight of the books that littered it, properly, for the first time. The relaxed, contented expression he had gave way to a slight frown; "Huh. They sure go into a lot of stuff on that Muggle Studies course, don't they?"

Malachi looked over his shoulder at the scattered titles and he shot his dad another smile, excited this time; "Yeah. It's great! You know, with them not able to apparate or anything, they've got cars – I mean, we know that, obviously – but look at these –" he grabbed the book closest to him, the one with all the sports cars he'd come across; "These aren't just cars, they're awesome! They do shows with them, sometimes; we should go."

His dad was smiling, but there was a tightness there, before his eyes glanced over the books that lay scattered; "Hm. Yeah." He nodded, clearing his throat; "Well, I'll go and send Harry on up, then?"

Malachi nodded, and his dad headed on towards the door, leaving Malachi to return to unpacking. But, even as he did, Malachi caught it; the second glance his dad gave in the direction of the muggle books he'd brought home, and there was an uneasiness, almost an apprehension in his eyes, as he did. His dad didn't say anything about it, whatever it was that bothered him about Malachi reading this stuff – it wasn't like there was anything there about the Statute or the Witch Trials, after all, Malachi was careful to keep those hidden – but he could easily pick up on it; a concern of his dad's that he _was_ , before he headed from the room.

* * *

"Right boys. These –" Mr Black indicated with a flourish at the two items sitting on the counter in front of them; " – are your portkeys."

Harry glanced to the side, sharing a look with Malachi who was sitting on the stool next to them; "Portkeys? I thought personal portkeys were illegal?"

"Yes," Mr Black conceded, as if that were no big deal; "They are. That's why you're only to use these if it is a matter of safety."

"How did you get them?" Harry asked curiously, while Malachi just sat with his chin in his hand – obviously, this was nothing new to him – and began to reach for the small book that was sitting in front of him.

"Ah, ah; careful," Mr Black stopped him with a hand to his wrist; "Those are touch activated. Twenty second countdown and then they'll have you in my office at the Foundation. If you need to move faster than that, just say 'jump'."

"Jump," Harry repeated.

"Why did you put a countdown on these ones?" Malachi asked, leaning back; "You've never done that before."

"It gives each of you a chance to get to one another, if something happens to one of the portkeys," Mr Black explained; "But, if you do find the need to use them, don't wait for me."

"Wait, what?" Harry repeated with a frown.

"Same rule as always," Malachi explained to him, quietly, and Mr Black made neither objection nor confirmation; made no sound at all, in fact, to confirm that – should they find themselves in mortal danger on any of these outings – they were to simply leave Mr Black behind.

"Uh…is this a good idea?" Harry asked, more than a little unnerved by the extreme measure and rule. In the past, it had simply been 'don't leave my sight' whenever Malachi's dad had taken them anywhere; "I don't mind staying in."

"No need to stay in, when these things will get the two of you home – or, rather, the Foundation – in a couple of seconds flat," Mr Black said, giving him a reassuring smile; "Don't worry, Harry. I've looked into it."

"Dad's speciality," Malachi stated, with a shrug in Harry's direction and then a smile at his dad; "Elaborate escape plans and routes; how else would he spend the free time, right?"

His dad reached across the counter, ruffling his hair; "So, portkeys out the way. Second rule, if I can't reach you, you've gone too far. And I don't mean 'see you', boys, I mean reach. As in –" he reached back across the counter and got Malachi by the collar, making both him and Harry laugh; "- got it?"

"Yup."

"Uh huh."

Mr Black let Malachi go with a smile; "Now, while we're in Edinburgh tomorrow –"

"Edinburgh?" Malachi interrupted with a frown; "What about Hyde Park?"

Mr Black's playful demeanour dropped, somewhat, turning apologetic; "I'm sorry, Malachi. Not this year, alright?"

"Dad, come on," Malachi shook his head; "That's Mum's thing."

"I know," his dad nodded, and Harry could see the regret there – even if Malachi glowered at the next words; "But it's too risky."

"It's never been too risky before," Malachi pointed out, protesting the decision, furiously; "We've gone every year. Mum used to take me every Christmas –"

"Malachi –" Mr Black came around the counter, as Malachi went on.

"You had your first date there –"

"Malachi," his dad silenced him, with two hands to the top of his arms; "I'm sorry. But we can't go anywhere where there might be a magical presence – it's different this year, you know why – and Hyde Park at this time of year; that's always been a draw, to muggles and wizards alike."

"It's worth it, the risk," Malachi said, quietly, imploringly; "Dad, please. We have the portkeys for a reason, right?"

"Malachi, that doesn't mean we go looking where we know there'd be trouble," his dad said, before his voice lowered, so that it was almost a whisper; "This isn't just about us."

Harry immediately felt guilty, realising that, maybe, Mr Black would take the risk, if it was only himself at stake.

"Oh. I don't have to go," Harry quickly said, shaking his head; "This is about Mrs Black – I mean, Mrs Red – Malachi's Mum. I can just stay here."

"No," Mr Black immediately rejected the notion, shooting Harry a look, before he spoke more softly to Malachi; "I'll make it up to you, alright? I've had a look; it's all the same things in Edinburgh as it is down in London. Things your Mum loved."

Harry pushed himself down from the stool; "Uh, I'll be back in a minute."

Mr Black nodded at him, casting a grateful look his way, and both he and Malachi were quiet, Harry not hearing their voices again until he was through in the living room. But they still spoke quietly, so that he couldn't hear what they were saying.

Harry was glad of that. Mr Black had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome, pretty much nothing and nowhere in the house labelled off limits – not that Harry would go nosing in Mr Black's bedroom or anything – but, in this particular moment, Harry felt more than a little imposing. This was obviously a special time of year for Malachi and his dad – a time about his mum – and him being there was changing things up.

He heard Malachi's voice rise a bit and stepped further away, reaching down for the box of Sirius' stuff that Mr Black had given to him earlier that day to look through, and carried it in the direction of the door at the back of the room; through into, what seemed to be, Mr Black's study.

He sat in there awhile, in the chair in the corner of the room, going through a photo album again. It was a different one, this time, for there were a few that Sirius had kept. His mum wasn't in any of them; it was all of the four boys. Harry could feel it, through each image that presented itself to him; the camaraderie and the affection that they all felt for one another. Even Pettigrew. All so young and cheeky and full of life; their whole lives still ahead of them.

A life that, for all but one of them, had ended too soon.

Harry was struck with the realisation, as he looked at a picture of the four of them, that the only one living of them, here, was his Uncle Remus. All the others that surrounded him were dead; gone.

Harry swallowed.

His Uncle Remus; the last of them. With no one, now that his mum had admitted to Harry, earlier that day, that they weren't on 'the best of terms'. Which, obviously, meant that she wasn't speaking to him over all of this; no way would Remus be able to talk his way out of it, once his mum got it into her head that he was in some way responsible for what had happened.

And, now, his Uncle Remus would be spending Christmas alone. At least Harry had had somewhere other than that house to go for the holidays.

The realisation had Harry casting the album aside and getting to his feet, and he headed over to Mr Black's desk. He'd write to him, at least; even if Harry didn't – couldn't - quite want to see him yet, he could at least wish him a Merry Christmas. Remus had never missed a Christmas with him. And it wasn't like all this was his _fault,_ Harry had admitted as much to his mum.

Maybe Harry would even take out one of the pictures and send it to him; the one with Sirius and the snowball. Harry liked that one. He'd willingly bet that Remus would like it even more.

Harry pulled open the drawer of Mr Black's desk, reaching in for a quill and an ink pot, that he found quickly. But he had to go down the next drawer, and then the next, before he found any parchment.

Harry pulled it out, more rolls than he actually needed, and was just about to kick the drawer shut with his foot when something that had been concealed beneath the items caught his eye.

It was his name; on an envelope.

Harry frowned, reaching down and lifting it out – it was for _him_ after all and it wasn't like he was deliberately snooping – and turned it over in his hand, more than a _little_ curious as to why Mr Black would have a letter written to him.

It was sealed.

Harry didn't recognise the handwriting. Well. Not really. It was a scrawl that, actually, did look a little familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

He glanced, nervously, in the direction of the door that led back through to the living room. It had been a while, but Harry could still hear the distant sound of Malachi and his dad's voices.

He really shouldn't look.

It was obviously something Mr Black planned to give him later.

But, then, maybe – although it seemed a bit weird that he'd hold onto it for so long if it was - but, maybe, this was something about Sirius. _From_ him, even.

Who else did he and Mr Black have in common, after all, but his Godfather?

Harry tore it open, the curiosity and the _need_ to know what this was, making it utterly impossible that he would do otherwise.

He drew in a breath, unfolding the parchment inside, a mixture of both nerves and anticipation as he went to read what was written.

The parchment was blank.

Harry frowned, turning it to look at the back.

Nothing there, either.

"Harry."

Harry started, looking up guiltily, at the sound of Mr Black's voice. He was standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and his eyebrow raised.

"Mr Black," Harry stuttered, dropping the – blank, _blank –_ piece of parchment onto his desk; "I…I was just looking for some parchment."

"Hm," Mr Black nodded, lips twitching, as he eyed the numerous scrolls Harry had tossed onto the desk upon noticing the letter; "I see you found some. And something else further, still."

Malachi's dad didn't seem cross. Rather, he seemed amused, if somewhat uneasy at Harry's discovery. He relaxed; it was just Mr Black, after all. And besides –

"Why did you write an envelope with my name on it?" Harry asked, as Mr Black headed towards him; "It's blank, the letter inside. Did you enchant it with a security charm, or something?"

"Hm," Mr Black quirked an eyebrow, saying nothing, as he reached him and lifted the letter from where Harry had dropped it; folding it carefully and tucking it back into the envelope.

"Is it about Sirius?"

Mr Black met his eyes, sharply at the mention, and then his look turned sympathetic and he shook his head; "No. It's not."

"Well, what is it, then? What did you write? I found it –"

Harry's eyes went back in the direction of the still-open drawer from where he had found it, his voice breaking off when he quickly took notice of something else. Beneath where the envelope Harry had snatched up had been, there were another two; both addressed to single recipients, names that Harry knew very well.

Lily.

Grace.

Harry frowned.

It came to him quickly, the understanding of who had written the letter. The handwriting _was_ familiar. Very, very much so. A scrawl Harry had seen numerous times, across all of his assignments in a certain Potions classroom for the past four years.

It was not, only, Sirius whom he and Mr Black had in common, no.

Harry spoke, uncertainly; "It's from Snape?"

Mr Black cleared his throat, resealing the envelope and dropping it back into the drawer, neither denying nor confirming it.

"Why?" Harry pressed; "Why would he write me – all of us – letters? Why wouldn't he just talk to us?"

Mr Black glanced away, before meeting his eyes; a meaningful look cast his way that made it pretty damn obvious exactly what these letters were.

Harry lowered his eyes; "Oh."

It didn't take a genius to work it out.

They were 'after-death' letters, for lack of better labelling. Letters that Snape had obviously charmed only to be readable, in the event of it, that Mr Black was supposed to give to them – him, his mum and his sister – when it did.

Harry didn't quite know how he felt about that.

Well.

No.

That wasn't entirely true.

It was a realisation that left him utterly cold.

Mr Black pushed the drawer shut, placing a hand on his shoulder; "Come on. Malachi has agreed to heading into Edinburgh tomorrow; there's still some stuff I need to talk about with the two of you before we do."

Harry only nodded, unable to find any words in light of what he'd just found, and followed Mr Black from the room.

* * *

It was daylight outside but the location to which the Dark Lord had called Severus before him was as appropriately dark and dreary as all the occasions proved to be, whenever he was in the Dark Wizard's company.

Severus was the only one there, this summons, which suggested a task was about to be imparted upon him. Another, newer one, as he continued to come up short – something that the Dark Lord was not letting him off with, lightly – in his attempts to learn what it was that was plaguing Harry Potter with such grief that his master was unable to penetrate through it to find the source of the boy's woes.

"My Lord."

Severus played the part, down on his knees, kissed the hem of his robes; reverent and submissive, as he must always be.

"Rise," came the cold, high voice.

Severus did.

It was only by the grace of the deities that the Dark Lord turned away when he spoke next, picking up a slow pace of the stone ground, for Severus was sure it would have shown on his face; his horror at the next words spoken.

"Grace Potter."

Severus' blood turned to ice in his veins.

It had happened then. The Dark Lord had seen it. Harry's grief finally ebbing enough, that the dark wizard had seen through it; the truth – the _dreadful_ truth – and this was to be his final moments, begging for his family's, his daughter's life.

But, then, the Dark Lord would not execute him here, quietly, with no other's present – he would make a show of it, most definitely – only the most loyal, the most _appreciated_ of followers, were ever granted the honour of a private death.

Never a traitor.

Severus tightened his occlumency barriers. Fought against every instinct within him to respond to the threat to his daughter as any father would.

"My Lord?"

"Each glimpse that I have been granted into that foolish child's head, has been during a moment where he has been mentioning, in some way, his dear, sweet sister. At this time of great grief for the boy, one might conclude that it, in some way, centres upon her. Someone who remains rather the mystery to us, wouldn't you say, Severus?"

"Indeed, my Lord. I know very little about the child."

"But you have surely heard the rumours, Severus."

"Rumours, my Lord?"

"As to the child's true parentage," the Dark Lord elaborated, and Severus knew, he _knew,_ where this was going even if he pleaded, internally, to every all-powerful being above them that it wouldn't be so.

He was not to be so lucky.

"It seems there was an incident rather recently, which has led many to suspect that the girl's father is none other than another adversary of ours; Regulus Black, himself."

Severus lowered his chin, as if considering it. Really, it was to avoid any and all eye contact whatsoever; for he was certain if his occlumency barriers were ever to fail him, it would be _now._ When he needed to maintain them, most.

"A happy coincidence, indeed, wouldn't you say, Severus?" the Dark Lord went on, as if positively delighted at the possibility; that this little girl – _his_ little girl – should mean so much not to just one, but to _two_ of his greatest enemies; "And with recent reports that dear Harry Potter is to be spending the holidays with _Regulus_ , why, what more confirmation do we need?"

"My Lord, I must express my own reservations. Regulus has demonstrated, repeatedly, that his loved ones are his weakness; if the girl were truly his, it would be obvious."

"Most likely true, Severus, which is where you come in. Now that you have managed to resume your place by Regulus' side, it is only a matter of time before he reveals his relationship to the child. And it is your task, my artful friend, to learn the truth of it. And if it is not, indeed, Regulus Black; well. I should dearly like to know who is."

Severus lowered his head, in concession of the assignment.

"Dismissed."

Severus couldn't get out of the room fast enough.


	59. December 1994: Blue Christmas

"I don't get it. Why write me a letter? Why doesn't Snape just _talk_ to me?"

Regulus had to fight back a smile at Harry's persistent questioning, even as his eyes remained firmly trained on his son who was lingering a feet metres away – breaking a previously imparted rule – seemingly completely engrossed in conversation with the muggle girl who was serving hot drinks at one of the market stalls.

"It's not all that uncommon," Regulus said to Harry, sparing the briefest glance in his direction; "Especially considering the times; many parents, particularly serving ones, do leave letters or, even, just trinkets with special meaning in advance of their passing to their children. It gives them something tangible to hold on to, should the worst come to pass."

"Have you done it? Written a letter for Malachi?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Yes."

"Does Snape have it? Is that why he wrote one for Grace?"

"No, he doesn't know that about Malachi's letter," Regulus shifted on the uncomfortable, high stool that he was sitting on, at the elevated circled table in the middle of the market place, with Harry; "I'm afraid I can't take the credit for that."

His own letter or, rather, Malachi's letter had been written long ago and stashed alongside his Bequeathment Notice and various other legal paperwork, that his lawyer held on to.

"It's not the same anyway," Harry shrugged, dismissively.

"Oh?"

"Probably just says; you better look after Mum and Grace or I'll haunt you forever."

Regulus bit his lip, inclining his head, while casting a frown in Malachi's direction, when his son looked at him, quickly, over his shoulder. Malachi turned back to the girl, saying something, and she laughed.

Regulus rolled his eyes.

"He hates me," Harry went on.

"Ah."

"I'm not Snape's kid."

There was a bite to Harry's tone that made Regulus glance back, ever-so-briefly, in the boy's direction; "Hm. Perhaps he thinks differently."

"He doesn't."

Regulus quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

There was a quietness between them, but the Edinburgh Christmas festivities were far from quiet, where they sat surrounded by the merriment and the excitement of the market goers and the season appropriate music that filled the air.

"Does he?" Harry asked, tentatively.

Regulus met his eyes; "That's something you'd have to ask him yourself."

"He'd just laugh at me."

Regulus smiled, then; "He may just surprise you." He cast a brief glance over Harry's shoulder, meeting the eyes of the man who appeared to be loitering at the corner of the photography tent, before he slipped down from the stool; "Let me see what's keeping Malachi."

Regulus fought down his annoyance as he approached, knowing better than to embarrass his son in front of the girl that had taken his fancy; he'd be in the 'bad books' for the next two weeks if his father dared to emasculate him like that.

"Do you drive?" Malachi was asking the girl, as Regulus finally reached them.

"Not yet," the girl gave a shrug, smiling at him, kindly – for Malachi was, really, still just a little kid compared to the girl who was serving him – before she added; "I've been doing lessons but, yeah, they've been taking a while."

"Oh, lessons? Can't your parents just show you?" Malachi was looking back at her, entirely enraptured and not even noticing his dad's appearance at his side.

"No," the muggle girl giggled; "My dad would probably have a heart attack if I got him in the car."

"A heart attack?" Malachi repeated, utterly bewildered; "What's that?"

"Malachi," Regulus put an arm around him, clasping his shoulder and giving a smile at the girl – quickly picking up on _her_ bewilderment in response to Malachi's question; "I think we'd better let this girl get back to what she was doing, don't you think? Did you order?"

Malachi looked disappointed but didn't protest, clearly realising there had been a slip somewhere, even if he wasn't entirely sure what it was, and gave the girl a smaller smile than before; "Three mulled wines, please."

"Make those hot chocolates. All the extras," Regulus corrected the order and the girl smiled and went away to make them up.

"Why hot chocolate?" Malachi frowned, casting a confused glance his dad's way; "We've got a ton at home."

"Mulled wine?" Regulus repeated with a grin; "You're trying your luck. With that and this girl."

"What? Since when? You let me try some last year."

"It was just us last year –"

Malachi glanced in Harry's direction with a sigh. Regulus went on, voice lowering so that no one would overhear.

"- and muggles have laws, too; thirteen-year-olds can't march up and ordered three mugs of alcohol in the middle of a public place. You need identification proving you're of age – eighteen, in the muggle world, when it comes to drinking."

"Alright, so next time I need to bring something proving I'm eighteen; got it," Malachi nodded, glancing back in the direction of the girl.

Regulus leaned in close, lips close to Malachi's ear when he caught the wicked grin on his boy's face; "Just try it, Son."

"Mr Black."

"Harry," Regulus frowned at the worried look on Harry's face, as he appeared at their side. He put a hand on his arm; "Is everything alright?"

"I dunno," Harry looked, almost panicked, back over his shoulder at the man who Regulus had shared a look with a few moments before. He was closer now than when Regulus had previously seen him, standing at one of the stalls, looking through some of the carved ornaments for sale; "I think that guy is following us. He was watching me, anyway. I noticed him earlier; he was down at the rink when we were skating."

Regulus pursed his lips together, frowning in the man's direction.

"Don't worry, Harry," Malachi spoke up, entirely nonchalant by the fact; "That's just one of dad's lookouts."

Regulus looked at Malachi sharply.

"Lookouts?" Harry frowned.

"You know, bodyguards; men for hire –" Malachi shrugged, as if it were no big deal - surprising both his dad and Harry with the statement – before he pointed at another man further down the row; "There's another one –" and then to the left; "And another."

Regulus recovered quickly from the observation – he'd always thought the guys had been subtle enough that Malachi had never noticed them, all part of his intention to help Malachi feel 'normal' – but Harry's eyes darted between them, frowningly, as he took in the new information.

"Here you go!" the girl reappeared, three mugs of hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows and cream, handed across the counter to each of them. Regulus smiled, handing over the muggle money he'd brought with him – waving a hand to stop Malachi from spending his own – and the three of them made their way down the pathway in the direction of the fairground rides.

"You hire people to watch out for you?" Harry asked, quietly, as he and Malachi walked on either side of Regulus.

Regulus drew in a breath; "They're assigned to someone else."

Harry glanced passed him at Malachi, to whom Regulus obviously meant. His son, however, wasn't looking at either of them, instead glancing down at the activities in the levels below as he sucked in a marshmallow from the top of his whipped cream and pretending that he didn't hear – or care – what it was they were talking about.

Regulus reached up, putting an arm around him again to clasp him by the shoulder and Malachi turned his head to look at him, merely casting a smile and a roll of the eyes his way; unfazed by the measure. He, most likely, had been aware of it for years at this point.

Harry was another matter.

For the rest of the evening, the boy's eyes were constantly darting and seeking out the men to whom Malachi had pointed; as if for reassurance that they were there or an explanation for why they were necessary would be found simply by staring them out.

And the only time Harry _wasn't_ doing so, were when the questions about Severus came forth.

On and on for the rest of the night.

* * *

The Christmas Holidays at the Black Cottage were awesome.

Mr Black went out of his way to make sure that he and Malachi were having a good time – even just putting up the Christmas decorations the day after Edinburgh had been a blast – and there were things Mr Black did, traditions that he implemented that were just normal to Malachi, and that were so very familiar to Harry but from a long time ago.

There was a hot chocolate station set up in the corner with cocoa mix and marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles and whipped cream enchanted to keep cool. And Mr Black hummed the very same Christmas tunes Harry had forgotten. And he situated the wreathes in the same manner. And the ornaments on the tree were the same colour scheme; silver and blue. And the stockings were held back to be put up on Christmas Eve.

And it was all so very _Sirius_ , that Harry had felt a warmth and a longing stir within him, as he and Mr Black had carried the box over towards the long side table.

"You do this, too? A Hot Chocolate table?" Harry had remarked, eyes lightening up when he realised what it was they were setting up.

Mr Black had grinned at him, as he tossed out the festive tablecloth; "Sure do. I'm guessing my brother introduced it to your house, as well?"

"Yeah," Harry had said as he nodded. The whole tradition was what had set off his love of hot chocolate that still carried on, to this day; something his Uncle Remus was always quick to mention.

Mr Black had given a hum of laughter, before saying; "Something our Mum did with us when we were nippers."

It was odd.

Harry had known, obviously, that Mr Black was Sirius brother. Hell, it was something that had just always been fact. But fact was not the same as knowing, as _seeing_ , Harry was beginning to realise, and it was then, in the moment, as Mr Black carried on talking to him about the Black family traditions – so achingly familiar and long ago lost, to Harry – that he finally, really _saw_ it.

That Regulus Black was his Uncle Sirius' brother. That they had been boys together and had shared all of this and had loved one another.

And then, at the end of the story, Mr Black had cast him a look and it was one of concern, as if he picked up on the melancholy within him as he dwelled upon it, placing a hand on his arm. And he looked so much like Sirius, with that very same concerned look his uncle would give him when he was a child and upset about something – something stupid, in comparison to current woes – and he had just smiled. He wasn't sad. He hadn't ever felt _closer_ to Sirius since he'd been lost and he was glad, so very glad, that he had come here for the holidays.

Harry could even pretend that everything was right with the world, so long as he didn't dwell too much on all the dragonshit that was going on in his life and in the whole damn world, right outside the window. Each day, it seemed something new and dreadfully frightening was revealed to him, about _someone,_ whether that be Snape, or Grace, or Malachi. All things he guessed he sort of knew, if he really thought about it, before but, still, after all that he had seen and heard and _found_ since he'd arrived only a few days before he couldn't help but feel as if he had been slapped in the face with the cold, hard reality of just what it was, exactly, that they were up against here.

But Harry wasn't _going_ to dwell on it.

Not anymore. Not tonight, at least.

It was Christmas Eve.

And whoever had organised this years Yuletide Gala at the Foundation had gone all-out; no expense or activity spared and he and Malachi were _loving it._

And, as much as Harry was coming to like Mr Black – even more than he already did – it was good to be here, a safe and secure and massive enough place, as Malachi's dad had allowed them free reign to go off and enjoy the party, without him.

Mischief awaits!

Malachi laughed, as he held the small glass of firewhiskey he had managed to nab over in Harry's direction.

The two of them were holed up in one of the archways, concealed by the curtains, where Harry had dragged Malachi when he'd spotted his mum among the partygoers.

Harry, having never tried the stuff before, made the rooky mistake of taking a huge _gulp_ of the stuff and, oh, hell; "Eurgh!"

It _burned._ And it tasted absolutely _rank._

And Malachi doubled over, laughing at his disgust, and lifted it to take a small sip himself, screwing up his face in a much more composed manner than Harry reacted, before taking another.

"Do you actually _like_ that?" Harry asked, incredulous at the very notion, that _anyone_ could, and Malachi shook his head, putting the glass down and indicating back in the direction of the bar.

"Nah. It's the worst."

"Maybe we should try and get some of that stuff," Harry suggested, peering past the curtains in the direction of the server who was carrying a tray of Popping Champers – that had a far more appealing name, at least, than firewhiskey. _Fire_ whiskey. Too right. Harry's throat still burned.

The two of them ducked out from the sides of the curtains, heading back out onto the floor when Harry ensured his mum was nowhere in sight.

A crash and a clatter behind them stopped them from scampering off, however, and the two of them – among everyone else in the near vicinity – spun around to see what had caused the commotion.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

A young woman - with bright, _bright_ pink hair – said, as she scrambled to her feet from where she was in a heap on the floor – surrounded by smashed Champers flutes and the spilled liquid – before she reached down to help the man, the server, who was also on his backside on the floor; "I'm so sorry!" she repeated, while the sever cast a tight smile and waved her attempts at help away.

Harry didn't recognise her.

Malachi did.

"Too much to drink, Dora?" Malachi asked, grinning, while she continued to apologise as she took the man's hand and started to help him get back to his feet.

She looked in their direction, sharply, before smiling brightly; "Hey!" She let go of the server's hand, making him slip on the wet surface and fall back onto his behind with a thud; "Mac."

Mac. It was a nickname for Malachi that Harry had only ever heard spoken by Draco Malfoy.

Malachi smiled, as she stepped towards him, casting another apologetic glance at the _glaring_ sever, from where he still was on the floor, and engulfed Malachi in a tight hug; "Wow, look at you, Kid!" She drew back, eyes wide and sparkling; "Last time I seen you, you were –" she indicated a height about half way down her body and they both laughed.

Malachi shook his head; "It hasn't been _that_ long." He glanced in Harry's direction; "This is my cousin, Do – Tonks, right – Yeah. Tonks. This is my friend Harry. Harry Potter."

Tonks eyed widened further, a smile on her face; "Aw, yeah. Wotcher, Harry. It's good to finally meet you."

"Hi," Harry smiled, although it was a little shy when he caught her eyes drift upwards from his, as if looking for the scar he kept as hidden as possible beneath his fringe.

"Should've known it'd be you causing all the commotion over here, Dora," an older man suddenly addressed them, as he approached, and Tonks indicated in Malachi's direction.

"Look who I found, Dad."

"This can't be baby Mac, can it?" the man asked, smiling warmly at him, before clasping him on the shoulder; "I haven't seen that cheeky smile since you were a nipper."

"Hey Uncle Ted."

"This is Harry Potter, Dad," Tonks introduced him, giving Harry a warm smile and a nudge – as if they'd known one another for years – and the man, Ted, inclined his head and held out a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Son. Ted Tonks."

Harry took his hand, smiling in turn; "You too, Sir."

"Better watch yourself around these two, Harry –" Mr Black said, appearing from nowhere and looking as delighted and relaxed as the rest of these people at coming across one another; "- no telling what mischief they'll drag you into."

"Ah. And here was me thinking I'd better be warning Dora about exactly the same thing with regards to you, Reg; why else would I have dragged myself on out to this thing?" Mr Tonks said, with a grin.

"Good to have you here, Ted," Mr Black said, clapping Mr Tonks on the back before turning his attention to Tonks; "Heard the Ministry's got a new Auror on their hands?" He stepped forward, holding open an arm and she smiled, stepping in for a hug.

"That'd be me," she confirmed, before drawing back; "Just passed through this summer."

"Good to know we're in good hands. Your Mum would've been hella proud to see it," Mr Black smiled at her, earning a bright smile from her in turn.

The conversation carried on between, animatedly, but Harry's attention was quickly drawn to the other side of the room, when he noticed a flash of red hair up ahead.

His mum, again – he'd been avoiding her all night – and she was lingering up towards the back of the room, eyes skimming the crowd, as if looking for someone.

It was obvious who.

Sure enough, a few seconds of observation confirmed it, when her eyes finally seemed to settle on someone across the other side of the room – Snape, who was standing by the bar – and she began to make her way towards him.

Harry watched, unabashedly, thinking that it was odd, really, that his mum would actually approach Snape in such a public place – Mr Black had warned them, him and Malachi, that there were 'eyes everywhere, people who slipped through the cracks, trust no one' – but his musings were for naught because, as she was making her way towards Snape, she glanced away and caught _his_ eyes, then, and that made her hesitate.

Only for a second, and then her course changed, abruptly, and his mum was coming towards him, instead.

Harry drew in a breath, casting a look in Malachi's direction and muttering that he'd just be a second, before he stepped away from the 'Black Family Reunion' that was going on and headed towards her, to meet her halfway.

His mum looked surprised, pleasantly so, smiling when they reached one another.

"Hi, Sweetheart."

"Hey," Harry said, not as warmly as his mum had spoken, no, but not quite as frosty as he'd been for the past few weeks; "Where's Grace?"

His mum glanced in in the direction of the window, nodding in the direction of the Learning Centre; "The Phoenix has some activities on for the children, during the party; she's settled in well, there, at school."

"Right."

"What about you, Harry?" his mum looked at him, carefully; "Are you enjoying the holidays?"

Harry nodded, not quite meeting her eyes; "Yeah. Mr Black's been great."

"I'm glad you're having a good time."

Harry shuffled, feeling awkward. It was difficult not to feel so, considering all he had learned and seen, just over these past few days – the cold, hard reality of all that they were up against – and that, along with the fact that is was _Christmas_ and this was his _mum._ He'd done a good enough job of just pretending everything was normal, that he was normal, these past few days, that he couldn't help but feel a little bit softened towards her.

But, then, Snape was right over there, and Harry could see him and then, it was just as easy to remember as it was to pretend; so Harry just reached into his dress robes, tugging out the wrapped package he had brought with him – knowing that, at some point, he would have come across his mum here – and held it out to her.

"This is for Grace."

His mum looked at the present held out to her, getting a small smile, before she reached and took it from him; "I'm sure she'll love it."

Harry just shrugged.

But he didn't step back or away or try to dodge it, when his mum stepped forward – only a little tentative – and drew him into a hug.

Harry closed his eyes, not hugging her back, but he let her hold him. And he felt his eyes water, infuriatingly, and he squeezed them shut tighter, willing them not to fall, as much as he felt comforted by this; as much as he realised, then, that he simply just wanted his mum and for everything to go back the way that they were.

"I love you, Sweetheart," his mum whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, before she drew back a bit to look at him; "Merry Christmas."

Harry swallowed, giving a slight nod, before he drew in a steadying breath and walked past her. Not back in the direction of Malachi, this time, but away towards the exit. Not that he could leave, obviously – and he could see one of Mr Black's 'men' that he recognised from his trip in to Edinburgh with him and Malachi earlier that week watching him, closely, ready to follow – but, even, just to be alone for a minute would be enough.

So, he ducked out of the ballroom, waving off the questions of the Security Personnel stationed at the doors, and headed for the nearest bathroom, just to get away.

* * *

"You're spending Christmas at Hogwarts this year?"

Severus, who had been surreptitiously watching the exchange between Lily and Harry, turned and gave Narcissa a nod, as they stood off to the side of the dancefloor at the bar; "So it would seem."

His customary invitation to Malfoy Manor had not come that year – a tell tale sign that Lucius would, most likely, be present and wanted to spend the time alone with his family – but Severus couldn't claim to be disappointed by the fact.

It did not sound appealing to Severus in the slightest, what with the dual task of having to keep Lucius convinced that he was on the firm side of the Dark Lord, along with having to keep Narcissa convinced of – well, _what,_ exactly?

Her motives were far less clear than that of her husband.

Did she really want to believe the same, that Severus _was_ loyal to the Dark Lord, and that he was playing Regulus – her dearly beloved cousin – and that his entire reason for being back at the Foundation was a ploy, with him waiting to give the orders to strike?

He doubted that was something that would go down well – even if she must have been told as much by Lucius that this is what he was doing there – and she had suspected, at least, prior to Regulus' open defection that his loyalties were not quite true. Andromeda, whom had been close with both her sister and their cousin during those glory days, had been utterly convinced of Regulus' remorse and turn to the light.

And, while she may not openly defy the Dark Lord himself, Severus did not doubt that Narcissa Malfoy was just quite Slytherin enough to throw suspicion _his_ way if she should manage to get anything on him, in an attempt to lessen the danger to Regulus, if she thought Severus would actually be willing to throw Regulus under the Hippogriff.

It was a tangle that Severus did not want to be caught up in – as if he wasn't already in enough! – and the last thing he needed was to make enemies with the Malfoys, right now.

Regulus, making his way towards them, caught Severus' eye and interrupted his musings on how best the woman at his side ought to be handled.

"Look at you two wallflowers," Regulus chuckled, as he reached them before giving Severus a slap on the back; "Didn't you think my cousin may want to dance, Severus?"

Severus' lips twitched at the bright sparkle in Regulus' eye; obviously in his element, in the middle of the party.

"Leave him alone, Regulus," Narcissa said with a smile – that was warm, and seemed genuine, in light of his presence – before she shook her head; "I'm not at all inclined to dance, thank you."

"Not even with your baby cousin?"

"Not even then," she laughed.

Severus' eyes went back in the direction of the doors as they continued their chatter, to where Harry had recently departed. Not quite recently enough, though, for him not to be concerned.

"She looks so much like Andromeda," Narcissa said, quietly, drawing Severus' curiosity.

Regulus nodded, and Severus noticed the two of them looking in the direction of Nymphadora Tonks and her father, where they were speaking animatedly to Malachi just off the other side of the dancefloor.

"She's like her too," Regulus stated; "Like how she was as a kid, before…Well. You should say hello."

Narcissa made a face, that was almost a smile, but not quite.

"She'll remember you," Regulus went on; "Malachi, too. He'd be happy to see you."

Narcissa kept her eyes on them, on Regulus' and Andromeda's respective children, before she drew in a breath and looked at Regulus, shaking her head. But she didn't say anything, and Severus thought he caught the slightest glance in _his_ direction – making it quite evident that her silence was a distrust of him – before she stepped away, leaving the two of them where they stood.

Regulus' playful demeanour dropped, almost instantly, with the departure of his cousin; "Anything?"

"Well. From my observations I am under the impression that you, perhaps, _can_ trust your cousin; while the same cannot be said for me."

"I meant about a potential attack," Regulus dismissed the statement – as if it were obvious which, Severus supposed, it was – as he glanced in the direction of the East buildings through the window; "Have you heard anything? Seen anything?"

"I have scouted the perimeter; assessed the weaknesses; the magical protections enacted by Dumbledore have been reinforced; there are triple the amount of usual Security Personnel patrolling the grounds. He will not get in, Regulus. Not before everyone in this place is long gone, I am sure of it."

Regulus nodded, slowly, relaxing somewhat.

Severus glanced back in the direction of the doors – eyes quickly skimming the Ballroom and confirming that, no, Harry still had not returned – before he shook his head but, before he could speak and voice his concern, they were suddenly approached by a short, mousy haired man who managed to look both concerned and composed all at once as he addressed Regulus.

"Mr Black."

Regulus pursed his lips together; "I take it you lost him?"

"He's a sneaky little git, that one."

Harry, obviously.

Severus headed in the direction of the doors.

* * *

Privacy was utterly impossible that night, it seemed.

Harry was immediately followed by his 'Protector' – as assigned by Mr Black – and he was followed, even, to the doors of the restrooms; albeit it at distance.

It was that distance that proved beneficial, however, as Harry never came unprepared to events such as this and, so, while he was huddled in the toilet cubicle he had tugged out his Invisibility Cloak that he had stashed in his pocket; throwing it over himself and sneaking out of the restrooms hot on the heels of the man who was leaving.

He had easily bypassed the man assigned to him – he was short and scrawny, no one would have guessed he was security which, Harry supposed, was the point – and had made his way deeper into the Foundation; heading in the direction of the Main Buildings where the Research Centre was located.

He'd figured, hey, maybe he'd be able to get some books on how to break Concealment Charms and he'd be able to see what, exactly, it was that Snape had to say to him that had to be written down in a letter.

And, so, here he was; still under the protection of the cloak, sitting on the floor in the middle of the Centre, with a book on the very subject in his lap.

He didn't know how long he was sat there – a while, he guessed – before he was, suddenly, no longer alone. There were footsteps on the wooden flooring, the click of the heel of boots, that was utterly familiar and, sure enough, within just a few seconds Snape, himself, came into view.

His eyes skimmed the room, quickly, as if searching for something. He walked on in the direction of the bookshelves, peering down the length of the wall behind one of them, before carrying on; did the same for another two before they _both_ were surprised by the sound of another, very familiar voice.

"Severus?"

Snape straightened.

Harry did, too, though, thankfully, not with enough of a jolt to knock off his Cloak.

"Lily," Snape frowned, immediately heading towards her; "Are you alright? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you; I needed to see you," his mum said, as he reached her.

"Not here, Lily," his voice was quiet, his eyes suspiciously darting around, in the direction of the magical enchanted windows that meant no one could see in, anyway; "The Foundation is not as safe as it once was, we cannot –"

"It's about Grace."

That shut Snape up.

Got his – and Harry's – attention, instantly.

"Has something happened?"

"No. Well…yes."

"Lily?"

"Come home tomorrow."

Snape frowned; "What?"

His mum sighed, her hands going to his – Snape's – arms, in a gesture of obvious familiarity and affection; "She's forgetting you, Severus."

If Snape was surprised or saddened or distressed, he didn't show it. Rather, he visibly _relaxed_ at his mum's words.

"I see."

His mum said nothing; looking neither surprised nor affronted by the Potions Professor's – or, rather, Grace's _father's -_ lack of response to the information that his own kid was losing her recollections of him. Harry felt himself bristle on his little sister's behalf.

Snape drew in a breath, glancing away for a second, before his expression softened and he turned back towards his mum, reaching up and taking her face in a hand before he pressed his lips to her forehead.

It wasn't much, really; Harry had seen people be affectionate with one another before, obviously. In muggle films and out on the streets, sometimes, and even some of the kids in his year at Hogwarts – though mostly, it was in the years above – who would hold hands and pet one another's hair and murmur in one another's ear.

But Harry had never seen anyone do so with his mum – the closest only the memories that Snape had restored for him of his parents but even they were beginning to get a little fuzzy, once more, as old memories tended to do as time passed – and never had Harry ever expected to see such a blatant display of affection from _Snape_ , of all people. Nevermind between the two of them, despite what Harry had learned.

It wasn't, exactly, gross. Nor was it heart-warming. Rather, it was enlightening; Harry's first, proper, glimpse at what the two of _them_ actually looked like. And the person who Snape actually was – or could be – if he wasn't, well, a spy.

Snape lingered close, seeming to draw strength just from holding her, before he drew back and reached into his robes, pulling out a rolled-up scroll.

Harry frowned, immediately curious.

His mum, too, it seemed, as she took it with a concerned glance in Snape's direction. The man said nothing, just indicated with a nod that she open it.

Harry waited, daren't moving an inch from where he was sat only a few feet from them in the middle of the floor, desperate for a glimpse of what it was.

He needn't have waited or wondered for long, his mum's confused question letting him know.

"Grace's Birth Certificate?"

Snape said nothing.

"Why do you have this?"

"I need to provide it as evidence, that I am taking the Dark Lord's assignment seriously."

"What assignment?"

"He has requested that I find concrete evidence as to the parentage of Harry Potter's sister –"

His mum started.

"- at the moment, he is of the mind that it is Regulus Black."

His mum stared back at Snape and Harry thought he saw Snape's hand on her shoulder squeeze, slightly, as if in reassurance but it was only slight, and it didn't do anything to quell _Harry's_ alarm at the statement.

"Because of the Fling?" his mum said.

Snape nodded; "Word of it has made it's way to him. We suspected that it might."

"What about this, though?" his mum held up the scroll – his sister's Birth Certificate – shaking her head; "It doesn't prove anything. The father's name is listed blank."

"Yes. Malachi's, however, is not," Snape's hand went to the breast of robe, as if Malachi's Birth Certificate, too, was held within it; "Regulus refused to allow his son to be listed as illegitimate - despite intense familial pressures as it led to the breaking of the agreement of his betrothment to the young Veronica Greengrass at that time – and it stands to reason, that he would make the same objections in the case of his daughter, if that is what she were."

"Circumstances are different, though, surely –"

"Yes. But it is enough to cast doubt and buy us time. Something particularly precious to us, right now."

"Why has he turned his attentions towards Grace, all of a sudden? Why now, when Dumbledore is so certain of his preparations for war?"

"It seems Harry's grief has ebbed enough, that glimpses of what is plaguing him are beginning to show through."

His mum looked stricken.

Harry was certain that he did, too.

"Then…he can see it? The truth?"

"From what I gather from my interactions with each of them, it is only access to thoughts and events that are taking place in the moment of their mind's penetration, that either are privy to. So long as Harry does not see or speak of anything incriminatory, the situation can be kept under control. For the time being, at least, until –"

Snape went on talking – revealing very, very incriminating information, indeed – and Harry desperately tried to blank it out; squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands to his ears, in an almost childish fashion to keep from knowing anything further. To not see or hear anything more of what Snape was revealing.

Voldemort could finally see inside his head, at will? Could he be looking _now?_ Could he be seeing all this? Hearing it all?

Had Harry just shown him everything; all of his family's secrets?

Harry had to get out of here _now._

Maybe his panic would alert him; maybe, if he hadn't already been watching or trying to get in, he would sense it and would try to, now. He suddenly realised why Snape and his mum had been so walking on eggshells in each interaction since, as if provoking too strong a response might do just that. But then, Snape had mentioned grief during their last lesson; that it was grief that had kept Voldemort out before. Harry summoned it, as much as he could, trying to put it to use, but it wasn't enough, not really.

He didn't feel grief. Not quite like he did, before, anyway.

Not now.

If anything, this whole exchange, along with the letters, and his and Malachi's secret protection and his time at the Black cottage – all of it had taken place over just a few days – it only made Harry finally _see_ just how absolutely terrible it was that he knew any of this at all.

Snape and his mum were still talking.

Harry tried not to look at them, or hear them or make any sound of his own, as he got to his feet and, carefully, made his way from the room.

* * *

It was almost midnight.

The Gala was in full swing when Harry, finally, made his way back through the doors into the Ballroom.

Harry was in no mood to party.

To forget or pretend that any of this wasn't happening.

That his baby sister wasn't in _mortal danger_ ; not just because she was his sister but because he had, stupidly, taken her to the Foundation months before and made people think that Mr Black was her father, and because he wouldn't take his Occlumency lessons seriously when Snape first started teaching it to him – refusing to believe that he would ever need it – and because he was so focused on hating and being betrayed by Snape and his mum – not that he wasn't still furious about that – that he couldn't _get it together_ and see and realise that he _needed_ to. For Grace, if no one else. And do something to keep that monster out of his head, once and for all.

Harry had noticed he was being tailed, when he had finally taken off and stashed away the cloak, as he made his way back towards the room – by the same, scrawny Security Personnel guard that had been assigned to him – and noticed him nod in the direction of a few others that were scattered about the corridors.

His absence had been noted then.

Harry drew in a breath, eyes scanning the room and trying to calm himself.

Mr Black and Malachi were up ahead, at the bar, laughing and fooling around; Malachi caught in a headlock by his dad and trying to fight his way out, without much luck.

Mr Black released him when he noticed Harry approach and he raised an eyebrow; "Harry. Decided to join us, then?"

It wasn't a normal occurrence, really, for Mr Black to sound cross with him. But, then, it was a drop in the ocean compared to how Harry felt about himself, in that moment.

"I'm sorry, Mr Black," Harry said, quietly.

Mr Black looked at him carefully, before he placed a hand on his shoulder with a look of concern; "Everything alright?"

Harry met Malachi's eyes for a second, before he shook his head; "Not really."

Mr Black frowned.

Harry glanced away. It was Christmas the next day. But, still, Snape was right; time _was_ precious. And with Harry's grief ebbing, undoubtedly, with all that he was finally learning; there wasn't any of it to waste.

"Mr Black; is it alright if I head back to Hogwarts tonight?"

* * *

There was a knock at the door to his chambers.

No one ever came to Remus' chambers anymore.

Not since _that day._

He figured it was Albus, trying to lure him down to the Christmas Feast that he had opted out of attending. If that were possible. He had never stayed at the Castle for Christmas before, not even as a boy. Christmas had always been meant for family, his mother had insisted as much. But then, perhaps it was compulsory, as a teacher of the school, to attend this Feast and he was to have his wrist rapped for his defiance.

Remus would take his chances.

The coming of Christmas had evoked zero feelings of warmth and fuzziness, this year, and that continued until now, the day of, serving only as a reminder of all that was lost. And he didn't particularly want to break bread with Severus Snape, that afternoon, either, in light of it all.

Remus headed over to the door, mustering up what little enthusiasm he could for a 'Merry Christmas', at least, to whomever had knocked and pulled it open.

Harry was stood on the other side.

He was, quite possibly, one of the _last_ people Remus would have guessed would be standing there.

And one of the _only_ whom Remus could possibly want it to be.

"Harry."

His own voice and demeanour were uncertain, after weeks of silent treatment and furious glares.

Harry's, however, were not.

He smiled, warmly – and, oh, how Remus had _missed_ seeing that – before he said, quietly; "Hey."

Remus released a breath, smiling in turn, even if he was a little – or, rather, a lot – confused; "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at home?"

Harry gave a wry smile, raising an eyebrow - as if the reason were obvious, as if he were asking him the very same thing – and then he stepped forward, arms going to Remus' waist for a hug.

Remus reciprocated, gladly, hugging the boy tight.

"Merry Christmas Uncle Remus."

* * *

It wasn't Christmas without Harry.

It just wasn't.

As much as Lily tried to put on a smile for Grace, as her little girl tugged open the wrapping of the gifts that had been left for her under the tree, it felt insincere and forced in light of all who were missing, who _should_ be there. Harry. Severus. Remus.

And then, of course, there was the information that Severus had given to her the day before. How he couldn't, possibly, come to the house that day – or any day, ever again, so long as the war went on – and revive Grace's fading memories of him, as the monster who hunted her son had now turned his sights upon their daughter.

"Look Mummy," Grace held up a fabric toy Unicorn, pressing a button that set it's wings fluttering and sent it flying upwards in a soar and a twirl, before it landed back down in Grace's lap, eliciting a delighted giggle.

Lily smiled, more genuine in light of her daughter's happiness; "Who gave you that one?"

Grace lifted the wrapping, looking at the label, with a squint and trying to make out the letters. She was only _just_ learning but there were some names she could recognise, just by looking, even if she couldn't quite read them yet.

"Uncle Remus," Grace stated, with a triumphant smile in Lily's direction.

Lily's smile faltered a little, though she'd obviously known he had sent something. It had come the previous week, the gift for her, without any accompanying letter in response to the one she'd sent some weeks before.

"Does that mean he's really not coming?" Grace asked, turning her eyes down to the Unicorn she held in her hands.

"I'm afraid not, Sweetheart," Lily stroked her hair, her eyes scanning the little pile for the one she had been given by Harry the night before, and plucked it up when she spotted it, holding it out to Grace; "What about this one?"

Grace took it, eagerly, her eyes going to the label. It didn't take nearly so long for her to figure out the letters – the name – of who had given her this one; "Harry!"

Lily chuckled, while Grace turned wide, excited eyes her way, before her attention was all for the gift in her hands and she tore it open.

Inside, was a small, square mirror and a note tapped onto the front of the reflective surface.

Lily recognised the thing, immediately.

Grace pulled off the note, carefully, and held it up to her mum; "What does it say, Mummy?"

Lily took the note, giving her a smile; "Merry Christmas, Grace. When you miss me; close your eyes really tight, hold this and say my name and when you open them, I'll be here in the mirror. Lots of love from Harry."

Grace's eyes were already squeezed shut, the mirror held tight in her hands, when Lily looked back at her, her little voice a whisper; "Harry. Harry Potter."

Lily watched as the reflection morphed with a shimmer, her son's face coming into view only a few seconds later, as if he had been waiting. His smile was wide, his eyes bright and all for his little sister.

"Hey Grace!"

Grace's eyes sprung open, wide, her mouth dropping open in shock that it had worked, before she burst out with a grin; "Harry!"

"Merry Christmas."

"It's the best present ever!" Grace declared, beaming down at her brother's reflection; "I can really see you all the time?"

"Yup."

"Whenever I want?"

"Whenever you want."

Grace laughed, delightedly; "Wicked!"

Harry chuckled; "Wicked, right? There's someone else here who you might want to say Merry Christmas to."

"Who?"

"Take a guess."

Grace peered more closely at the mirror, when Harry turned, indicating at someone off to his side, and then Remus replaced her son's face in the mirror.

"Uncle Remus!" Grace laughed, before she looked at the unicorn she had placed on the floor beside her, holding it up; "Thank you for my present, Uncle Remus!"

"Oh, you're very welcome Miss Grace."

"I love it!"

"I thought that you might."

"I sent you kisses!"

"So, you did. They arrived first class this morning."

"First class?"

"First class owl post, that's how special they were."

Grace giggled, smiling down at him, until he moved aside so that Harry could come back into view.

"Listen, we're just gonna go down to the Feast now, alright?"

"Okay. But, I can get you on this? Whenever I want, like you said?"

Harry chuckled, nodding; "Yeah. Whenever you want, Gracie."

"Mummy's here," Grace pointed out, before Harry could go, turning the mirror in Lily's direction.

Harry's smile noticeably faltered when he was suddenly faced with her. He drew in a breath, averting his eyes for a second, before looking back at her.

"Merry Christmas, Mum."

Lily smiled; "Merry Christmas, Sweetheart."

Harry didn't linger, the mirror suddenly morphing and changing back into a reflection of herself. Grace snatched the mirror back, looking at it with an affronted expression on her mother's behalf; "Hmph. He's supposed to be nice and say goodbye before he goes, isn't he?"

Lily gave a small laugh, stroking Grace's hair, happy to just have _seen_ her son and see that he was actually happy and smiling and enjoying himself that day, even if he had decided he wasn't quite ready to do that with them – or, rather, her – yet.

"He must have been eager to get to Feast. As are we, aren't we?"

"Is it lunch time already?"

"Mhm. Come on."

Lily took her hand, and the two of them got to their feet, heading through to the kitchen.

* * *

Well.

As fate would have it, Severus would be spending Christmas in a place really rather familiar to him.

He had been awoken at the crack of dawn by the scorch of the summons. Bleary eyed and with a pounding headache – which, perhaps, could be blamed for the excursions of the night before – he had risen and robed, before heading from the Castle and apparating to the Dark Lord's side.

No rest for the wicked, so they say.

He was, however, surprised by the trail of the summons and where he had found himself.

Malfoy Manor.

It seemed as if all Death Eaters were present for the festivities.

And festivities they were, as it seemed the Dark Lord had decided that a little 'party' of their own was in order, in light of the occasion, and each and every one of them were sat around the long table of the Manor's dining room; tucking into the various food fixings that were on offer before them while fending off the interrogations of their master.

Thus far, no one had suffered the Cruciatus for their responses.

It must be Christmas.

"And the defences, Severus?" the Dark Lord turned his focus upon him. Their Master was not eating; merely sitting at the head of the table, demanding that the followers did so, while he simply watched and addressed them.

"Heightened, my Lord," Severus stated, brief and to the point; "It seems that an attack is anticipated, as is often the case for such events."

"And do you have confidence in this organisation's ability to withstand such an attempt?"

"No, my Lord. There are weaknesses, as ever; and the quietness with which they must be breached would only add to our element of surprise."

"The East Wing, you suggested?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And does your wife concur with Severus' assessment, Lucius?" the Dark Lord's eyes went from Severus to the man sitting opposite, at the other side of the table.

Lucius - who was doing a pretty good job of concealing his displeasure at the presence of the Dark Lord and his followers in his home – lifted his chin, casting a brief glance in Narcissa's direction where she sat to his side, and gave a nod; "Yes, my Lord. Of the various divisions within the Foundation, the East Wing houses the Counselling and the Administration; neither of which are considered quite as worthy of the intense security measures that are placed upon the others."

"And which is the most secure of this organisation?"

"The Tonks Facility."

"Which houses?"

"The School."

"Ah. Of course," the Dark Lord's eyes gleamed; "Where dear Harry Potter's younger sister attends." His eyes were suddenly back upon Severus; "Where are you on that assignment?"

Severus shifted where he sat, reaching into the folds of his robes and tugging out the two Birth Certificates he carried within them – Grace's and Malachi's – and, though he sat only two seats away, with no one between them, he stood to approach, walking around the table and presenting them to the dark wizard with a dip of the head.

It was only when Severus had returned to his seat, facing the Dark Lord once more, that he unrolled them.

"My Lord, with Regulus being so unwilling to allow his son to go unclaimed, I feel it unlikely that he would stand aside and allow his daughter to be so. At the very least, he would wish his parentage documented, so as to ensure the girl's inheritance come his – imminent – demise. He has always been a man of honour, when it comes to fortune."

The Dark Lord was sceptical, even as he eyed the scrolls before him. He lifted his eyes to Severus; "You are comparing the worth of a first-born son to that of this girl, Severus?"

The Dark Lord tossed the parchments onto the table.

"You surely have other reasons for doubt, if you are so willing to put a case for it forward?"

"Certainly, my Lord. It has come to my attention that, prior to these whispers regarding Regulus and the child, it was a widely held belief that the girl is the daughter of someone rather unspectacular; Remus Lupin."

There was a stir, as many at the table were already acquainted with him, in one way or another.

"And do you have proof of this other than hearsay, Severus?" the Dark Lord looked at him, carefully.

"All circumstantial, for the moment, my Lord. A consistent presence during the holidays and special occasions, an evident fondness between the man and the mother –"

Severus' eyes had skimmed the Circle as he spoke, so that he caught Lucius' eye and, when he did, he very nearly faltered at the look there. But he caught himself, before he did, carrying on, smoothly.

" - if it is the truth of the matter, I shall get to the bottom of it."

"Then the rumours of it being Regulus may prove inaccurate. No matter. Another way to reach him will be found and, then, the traitor will be dealt with."

"My Lord," Bellatrix Lestrange burst out, as if desperate to have _her_ say on the matter, from her spot at the other side of the table; "Let _me_ deal with him. I'll see to it he suffers for the shame that he has brought down upon our family."

The Dark Lord gave an almost pur of laughter, shaking his head; "Traitors, as you know, will be dealt with by none other than me, Bellatrix. Though I suppose I might have it within myself to distribute the punishment prior, if the show were worthwhile –" his attention was back on Severus; "I trust confirmation, either way, will be found imminently?"

"Before the boy returns to the Castle for the beginning of term."

"Ah! But it seems as if Harry Potter has already returned to Hogwarts."

What?

Severus had heard nothing of _that_.

But, before he could protest the inaccuracy of the statement – he had dined with the students present at the Castle less than twenty-four hours before, prior to his attendance at the Foundation - Narcissa had spoken up, confirming the fact.

"- and it was reported by him; that Regulus was overheard discussing the new arrangements with the boy's mother."

Him.

The elusive spy within the Foundation, whom Severus and Regulus were still to identify.

"Odd that dear Lily Potter should agree, considering the rather skeletal presence within the walls, am I right, Severus? Has there been any further word about the old man?"

"As yet, the Headmaster remains tied up dealing with Crouch."

The Dark Lord's eyes left him, then, going to the other side of the Circle, meeting those of Barty Crouch Jr., and an understanding, of sorts, appeared to pass between them; one which Severus was not privy to but was evident of another ongoing assignment.

So, came the end of Severus' questioning, as the Dark Lord's attention turned elsewhere but, even that, did not last much longer before their Master, somewhat, dismissed them – from the table, not the premises – and they stood and mingled amongst themselves at various points within the dining room and the adjourning parlour.

Severus, not one for social gatherings under any circumstances, busied himself at the bar table towards the back of the room.

"Try the Vervaroot."

Severus glanced over his shoulder at the familiar voice.

Lucius gave him a smile, as he joined him. Severus inclined his head, before reaching for the extortionately expensive bottle that Lucius had suggested and poured them each a glass.

"It is risky, returning to the Manor," Severus remarked, as he did; "To return to the country, at all, under the circumstances. With Crouch itching for war, there is only so much Dumbledore can do to hold him back."

"The Dark Lord felt it was time."

Severus glanced at him – could see the evident distaste in his old friend's expression as he eyed the others who spilled out from the room out his line of vision – and gave a nod; "Well. It will be a comfort to Narcissa, at least, to have her husband returned to her."

Lucius gave a scoff, as he lifted the glass poured for him, turning to look in the direction of his wife – who was speaking with her lunatic sister in the corner of the dining room – and gave a wry smile; "Perhaps so, if others had not accompanied him. For now, it seems as if my own task is simply that of host. You can imagine my wife's response."

Severus got a ghost of a smile of his own, at the statement – for no one in their right mind would be happy under such circumstances, as to be housing the Dark Lord and his followers in their own home, no matter how loyal they may be – and gave a nod of concession.

"Not that I envy you, yours, old friend."

Severus paused at raising his glass to his lips, eyes lingering upon the liquid within it. He glanced at Lucius out the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow in question.

Lucius was regarding him, entirely unreadable, before he glanced around them and lowering his voice, ever so slightly; "I must say, I was surprised to hear you put forth hearsay as evidence during your audience. Particularly considering how you are not quite so immune to whispers, yourself."

Severus drew in a slow breath, neither of them looking at one another. He was very, very aware of where Lucius was going with this.

There was a silence in the wake of Lucius' words.

But not for long.

"You cannot seriously be of the mind that you are going to be able to conceal the identity of that girl's father from him."

Severus was almost frozen at the statement, utterly still and cold at the words, as they hung in the air between them.

Of course, Lucius would put it together – Narcissa, too, even – he had _warned_ him, way back when, of how bloody slap-in-your-face obvious he and Lily were being about the whole thing; before they had even really _been_ anything.

Severus shifted, turning only his head to look at Lucius, squarely. The other man met his look, evenly, giving nothing more away. Nothing of what he felt about the matter – though Severus could, obviously, fill in those blanks – and nothing of what he intended to _do_ with the information that his old friend had over him.

The look was not threatening, no, only matter-of-fact; but that did little to stem the rising dread that rose up within him at the revelation.

There was stir in the far side of the room.

"No, Macnair, do bring him in."

The calm look on Lucius' face gave way to one of minor alarm, as both glanced in the Dark Lord's direction – far up the other side of the room – to where Draco was being ushered towards from where he had, apparently, been peering in from the doorway.

The boy looked absolutely petrified.

Narcissa stepped forward, from where she had been standing with Bellatrix, her hands going protectively to her son's shoulder as she put herself between them; "My Lord, I'm so sorry. He knows better. Let me just take him back upstairs, out of our way."

"Not at all, Narcissa; this is the boy's home, after all, and we would not want him to feel a stranger in his own house," the Dark Lord returned, dangerously softly, and Severus could feel Lucius tense at his side when his Master tilted his head slightly to look past his wife and address Draco directly; "Come, child." He indicated the empty seat at his side.

Severus saw Narcissa's hand squeeze her son's shoulder tight, before he did as was told and made his way to where the dark wizard had indicated, taking a seat. Narcissa remained standing behind him, her hands on either shoulder, but the Dark Lord took no notice, apparently allowing it.

"How old are you, Draco?"

"Fourteen, Sir."

"Fourth year?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Hm. In that case, you must be well acquainted with Harry Potter."

* * *

"Mummy's making me go to bed now."

Harry grinned as he walked down the deserted corridor, clutching the enchanted mirror in his hand as he spoke to Grace – for the fifth time, that day, since she'd first opened her gift from him – saying their goodnights.

"It's way _past_ bedtime now, Gracie. I should've told you, the mirrors don't work the whole of the next day if you use them after lights out."

"You just made that up."

"Would I do that?"

"Yup."

Harry chuckled; "Night, Grace."

"Night, Harry."

He tucked the mirror into one of the pockets of his robes. He was glad of the excuse to keep his mind off of where he was heading and what he was doing, right now, and he bit back any nerves that threatened to rise without the distraction of his sister's voice as he headed down the staircase into the dungeons.

It wasn't the first time that Harry had tried him – Snape – he had gone to his office, first, before he had gone to his Uncle Remus that morning. Snape hadn't been there, though, and Harry figured he had taken up his mum's offer the day before to spend the day with her and his sister.

Harry tried to not be bitter about it – he could have been there, instead, after all – and focus on what was actually important – Grace – rather than everything else that was going on and how he felt about it. He could do what Snape did and push all of it away – any feelings whatsoever – act like he was made of stone and call it occlumency. Sure, he could; Snape would just have to show him how, that's all, if that's what it took to keep them all safe.

Harry took the last few steps of the stairs, heading down the corridor, rounding the corner – all of it so familiar to him, now after months of time and lessons spent with the Potions Professor – and, when he did, he was met with he sight of Snape and Draco Malfoy up ahead.

Harry hesitated, slowing in his steps to a stop, as he watched them.

Snape was saying something, a hand on Malfoy's arm, and Malfoy looked uneasy but as if he were trying to hide it, shaking his head as he spoke.

Harry approached, just enough to overhear Malfoy's final statement; "It's an honour, Sir. Really."

Snape was looking at him carefully, with obvious concern in his expression, and he made to speak but, as he did, his eyes drifted upwards and met with Harry's.

Harry simply looked back at him from where he stood.

It was the briefest of looks, before Snape turned his attention fully back to Malfoy, giving a nod of dismissal; "Very well. You know where I am."

Malfoy nodded and brushed on by him, seeming relieved that whatever conversation the two of them had been having had come to an end, and made his way in the direction of the dorms.

Snape's eyes followed Malfoy's every move – even when he had vanished from Harry's sight Snape's gaze lingered – so that it was almost a good minute of Harry just standing there, staring at him, before the man finally looked back in his direction.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to say something. He wasn't quite sure what, he hadn't exactly rehearsed any of this; he'd just come down here, knowing that he _had_ to speak to Snape and that they had to _do_ something – namely, get his head in check, fast – but he would get a little longer to think about it, it seemed, as when Harry made to speak Snape lifted his hand ever so slightly from where it rested at his side and then he turned away, making the few strides to the door of his office and heading inside.

The door was left open.

An invitation, obviously.

Harry pushed back those nerves that still threatened to rise and hurried towards the office – not giving himself any time to think or hesitate – until he stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind him.

Snape was standing just on the other side, waiting.

"Mr Potter."

"Professor."

"I was under the impression you were to be spending Christmas with Malachi Black."

"I came back early."

"That much was obvious."

"You'd think you weren't happy to see me, Sir."

Snape's lips twitched a little at the cheek, before he crossed his arms, eyeing him; "You'd be right on that account, Potter. It would be far more preferable for you, these holidays, to have spent it out with the Castle; these walls are no longer as safe as they once were."

"Is it safe for us to even be talking about this?"

Snape's eyebrows raised a little; "Care to elaborate?"

"Well, he can see in my head now, can't he? Don't you think he'd be pretty pissed off –" Harry ignored Snape's disapproving look at the term; " – if he saw you advising me about my safety?"

"Let me worry about that, Potter."

"No, Sir. It's something we both have to be worried about."

Snape lifted his chin ever so slightly – a mannerism that Harry was beginning to realise was one that the man expressed in lieu of utter surprise – and regarded him, carefully, for a moment; long enough that Harry wondered if he was, maybe, using legilliemency on him.

"It seems the time away has been a rather enlightening experience for you, Mr Potter."

"Seems so."

"I am glad to hear it. Hopefully you shall be able to put this new determination to use when our lessons resume."

"Right now."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Right now," Harry repeated; "It's crazy that's we're taking breaks from these. We're about to go to war, he can look inside my head whenever he wants and he's coming after my sister. I need to be able to keep him out."

Snape was regarding him, coolly, with each statement that left his mouth – as if Snape didn't already know any of this, it was what he'd been trying to tell him before – but he seemed surprised, not at the information, but by the urgency with which Harry was talking about it all, now.

After a moment, the Potions Professor drew in a breath; "Dare I ask where you learned all of this, Potter?"

"I can't tell you," Harry said, before his lips twitched; "For your own safety, Sir."

Snape lifted his eyes towards the ceiling.

Harry shrugged; "You can look though."

Snape's eyes snapped back to his.

The two of them eyed one another for a moment, Snape seeming to think it were a challenge, a test. But it wasn't. Not this time. Harry wanted him to look because he daren't say the words out loud, now that he knew Voldemort might see it – would he be able to see inside his head, at the same moment, if Snape were to use legilliemency and pull forth his memories? Or did he just see out his eyes, at what Harry's were looking upon?

Snape would know, he guessed.

The man titled his head to the side, eyes still on his, and Harry could feel a faint stir in his head – not at all like the usual way the man would break past his, rather measly, barriers to look into his mind – and Harry knew that he had seen it, the exchange he had witnessed between him and his mum the night before, the second it happened for Snape's almost indifferent facial expression quickly changed into one a mixture of vexation and realisation.

Snape straightened up, the strange sensation in Harry's head leaving him.

"I suppose a lecture on the value of privacy would be too far above your head."

"Oh. Sorry, Sir. I didn't realise you had such strong opinions on the act of spying."

Snape closed his eyes, shaking his head in utter exasperation; "I don't find this new impertinence of yours particularly endearing, Mr Potter. Need I remind you that I am a Professor at this school, you are a student, and we are to conduct ourselves, as such."

"Fine. Impertinence dropped. Look, I get it now, alright?" Harry said, finally dropping the attitude; "You need me to know this stuff. I need you to teach me this. And, even if we don't care about each other, that doesn't matter because someone else who we _do_ care about needs us to do this more. Right?"

Snape was looking at him, carefully, in the wake of his words, seeming to weigh them all up. But Harry really didn't get what it was he needed to think about, as all he had really said was they needed to get over themselves and do this for Grace.

After a moment, Snape finally nodded, slowly; "Alright." He reached into his robes, pulling out his timepiece to look at; "It is nine thirty; how about we resume our lessons first thing tomorrow morning –"

"No, now."

Eyes snapped from the timepiece, back to Harry, as he went on in elaboration.

"It's the holidays. I don't have curfew or classes or anywhere to be tomorrow, or for the next week and a half. So, unless you have something else more important to do, or somewhere else you have to be –"

Snape made to interrupt.

"- I don't mean that 'impertinently', Professor. I know you _do_ have places you're going to need to be. But I don't. This is the only place that _I_ need to be. So, I'm here, alright? And I'm not going away until we start and I actually learn all of this stuff."

A silence descended between them.

Not for long, though.

Snape didn't seem to need much convincing. And, for a second, Harry thought that the Potions Professor actually looked impressed with him – a fleeting glimpse of pride in his expression – but it was there and then it was gone and the timepiece was snapped shut and stowed away.

"Glad to hear it, Mr Potter."

The man nodded once at the spot in the middle of the room where Harry would always stand for this.

"You know what to do."

Harry drew in a breath, nodding in turn, and taking up place where Snape had indicated.

For the first time since he had learned the truth of all this this, yes. Harry finally did.


	60. December 1994: Merry Mayhem

Harry had surprised him.

And Severus was not often surprised.

His coming to him the day before – at a point when Severus was certain he was going to have to drag the boy kicking and screaming down to the dungeon for these lessons – had managed to strike one of the burdens off of his ever-increasing task list.

And, with the situation with Harry somewhat subdued – only a little too late to have avoided repercussions – Severus had begun to attempt to make further progress with the other, incredibly pressing matter of how to direct the Dark Lord's attentions away from Grace.

Lupin's cooperation would be necessary for that – the joy – but hell would sooner freeze over than the man would hear anything Severus had to say on the matter, which meant it would have to be Lily. Which, of course, meant that Severus would have to go into some detail as to the gravity of the situation at hand – breaking a previously established rule that he could not involve her in the goings on behind the scenes of the war and, also, risking a less-than-subtle reaction from her to the situation, to boot.

But that was something to be dealt with later that week, when he would have the excuse to catch Lily during the Phoenix Centre's Christmas Fete that he was certain Grace would be attending.

For now, there was Harry.

"I don't get it," Harry burst out, in frustration, when he failed, once again, to keep Severus from penetrating the barriers the boy had attempted to hold up against his legilliemency attack; "It's as if we've only just started, every single time. I'm never going to be able to do this."

"Patience, Potter."

" _Patience?_ We've been doing this for _months."_

"Your problem is that you are trying too hard –"

"That's a new one."

"- don't I know it – and, in doing so, you are not allowing the natural defences that come with clearing your mind of emotion. Your mind is _filled_ with emotion, right now, which is why I suggest we use that to our advantage and –"

"No," Harry shook his head; "No. It won't work. I know you think I'm this overemotional idiot who's 'at the mercy of every emotion under the sun' –" he repeated the statement from months ago, impressing Severus with his recollection; "- but I can't feel that stuff at will, Sir. I've tried! It won't keep him out. What if I don't feel it strong enough? What if it just gives me away? I want to do it the way that you do it. The right way."

Severus' lips twitched; "Alright. In which case, the key to your success is obvious."

"Which is?"

"Calm down."

Harry sighed, shoulders dropping and shaking his head, looking defeated; "I can't. How can I calm down knowing what the hell is going to happen –"

"Potter –"

"He's going to come after me, after my family, after my _sister._ And all he has to do is look in my head and see how to get to us. I can't even _talk_ to them, to anyone, without wondering if he's watching me."

Severus nodded, slowly, considering the words.

"If it is of any comfort, the Dark Lord is tied up with more pressing matters at the present time and does not have the luxury of spending every moment checking in on what you are doing."

"What? Pressing matters like getting ready for war?" Harry said, with a look of scepticism; "Yeah, that's a real comfort."

Severus released a breath, averting his eyes. There was no pleasing this child.

"This is hopeless," Harry went on, in the self-deprecating manner he had appeared at his door with earlier that morning. His determination from the night before quickly snuffed out by Severus' easy attempts at getting into his mind the night before; "This is why you didn't want me to know the truth, right?"

Severus looked at him sharply, warningly. Because, for all of Severus' attempt at reassurance that the Dark Lord was not, in fact, spending his days basking in a fourteen-year-old boy's head, he was not willing to risk that it be the moment that they are discussing Grace that he pops back in again.

Harry, however, went on with more discretion than he had done so, in the past; "Because you thought I was too stupid to actually learn this?"

Severus crossed his arms across his chest; "You have spent the better part of the last week with Regulus Black, have you not?"

"Yes," Harry said, frowning at the – seeming – change of subject.

"And is 'stupid' a word you would use to describe him?"

Harry looked taken aback; "No. Not at all."

Severus raised an eyebrow; "He can't do it."

"Do what?"

"Occlumency. Not at the levels at which you are seeking, in any case."

Harry looked uncertain at the revelation.

"I thought it was something that people could just learn?"

"Not entirely. The character of the person attempting to perform it comes into play, in a similar manner to which it does when attempting to cast the Patronus Charm – though, obviously, in a far more prominent way – and there are some who simply cannot shut down the necessary parts of themselves needed to successfully disconnect from that which they wish to conceal."

"Oh."

"A difficulty with which, I dare say, you, also, are going to struggle with throughout these lessons."

"Is that why's he's hunted now?" Harry asked, curiously; "Because…You-Know-Who looked inside his head and saw that he was lying to him?"

Severus stared back at him for a moment, surprised once again by the boy in front of him. He had always just assumed Harry knew of the events that had led to Regulus' defection.

He cleared his throat, when Harry's look turned from mildly curious to expectant; "No. As it happens, Mr Black was indisposed during the initial interrogations following the Dark Lord's second return – incapacitated, you might remember, by an attempt on his life by Eugene Hopkins."

"But he found out. And, now, Mr Black lives free from him."

"Ah. I rather think you're idealising his circumstances a bit but, yes, other than the threat of impending torture and execution, Mr Black does live a life of his own choosing out with the Dark Lord's influence."

"He's happy, though. Him and his son," Harry went on, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at Severus, almost reproachfully; "They're together and Malachi knows how much he loves him, and they have a life and memories. Together."

Severus drew in a breath, aware of where the conversation was going.

"Just seems to me like, why would someone choose something differently than that? Why wouldn't they want to put their family – their kid – first. And be with them."

"Perhaps it is not a choice, Mr Potter."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Harry shook his head, before dropping the roundabout manner in which he was speaking; "Why do you spy for them? Why don't you just walk away? Even a few years of having a life with people is better than years and years of a miserable one without."

"Because it is not an option in the case to which you are referring."

"Mr Black did it."

Severus released a breath, shaking his head at the boy's naivety; "Mr Black went to trial. He was acquitted. He is beholden to no one; his life is his own."

"And yours isn't?"

"The very reason I am standing here, now, Mr Potter, is because I have something to offer to those whom would quite happily see me locked up in a cell in Azkaban."

"So, what, you're too scared to go to trial in case you end up in Azkaban?"

"There is no 'in case' about it."

"Mr Black got off with it."

"One of the richest and most well connected nineteen-year-old boys in the country – what a surprise."

"That's why you're a spy then?"

Severus eyed him, irritated beyond measure by the self-righteousness the boy was displaying. There was no way on this Earth that he was going to reveal his own motivations for doing so, in light of that.

Even without revealing so, it did not take a man of infinite intelligence to realise that to walk away and have the happy life that Harry was demanding of him would not be a case of him defecting from the Dark Lord – that ship had long since sailed – but from the bloody _Order_ ; and there's no way the Ministry or Dumbledore would stand for _that._

From him to whisk his own family off into the sunset and leave the rest of them to ruin, when he had it within his capabilities to fight the Dark Lord from the inside.

Madness.

"Would I recommend myself to you more, Mr Potter, if I were to make a grand declaration of devotion to my loved ones and find myself languishing in a prison cell; leaving the rest of you to fight, blindly, when the Dark Lord should come in retaliation?"

Harry only looked back at him, saying nothing.

But the boy's expression said enough, the dawning understanding that quickly came over him, in light of the statement. The fact that he, and Harry and Lily and Grace – the four of them, together, in the way that Harry was demanding was the _right_ thing to do, and to have – was a thing of utter fantasy.

 _Neither_ side would allow it, so long as Severus served two Masters, and to _not_ serve either of them – or both of them, as the case may be – was not an option. And why would he throw it all away, his position in the war, for something that could never be had; when to do so would only leave those whom he loved even _more_ vulnerable than they already were?

Their circumstances, as they were now, were, quite literally, as good as things could possibly be for them until this war was done.

Severus nodded, as Harry met his eyes; "I understand what it is that you are saying, Mr Potter. Do you understand what it is that I am telling you in turn?"

Harry drew in a breath, not looking away, before he nodded, ever so slightly.

The silence that had descended upon the room was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a voice.

A voice that Severus knew well and that he missed – so very much – that rung out from the inside of Harry's robes.

"Harry Potter," Grace's voice said, out of nowhere, once more. And then again. And again, her volume level increasing; "Harry Potter."

"Sorry," Harry said as he reached into his robes, tugging out a small mirror, and casting Snape a look; "I gave Grace one of these mirrors for Christmas; she's been on at me with them all week." He turned his attention to the object, as if to activate it.

"Do not answer that in here, Potter."

Snape turned away, the weight of both the conversation and the sound of Grace's continuing insistent voice filling the air seeming to have drained all the energy from him; "So concludes our lesson for the day."

"Okay, fine," Harry said, quickly, grabbing his bag from the floor and hurrying from the room. Before the door was completely shut behind him, Severus could hear the boy's greeting.

"Hey, Grace."

* * *

Crouch struck first.

Aurors raided the homes of two known Death Eaters a few days after Christmas - finding nothing, of course, but their wives and children at home celebrating the holidays – and it was only a matter of time, now, before retaliation was made by the other side.

There was a rather crude irony to it.

That in order for him to live an – almost – normal life, away from the omnipresent threat that he was hunted, Regulus was forced out into the muggle world.

Of course, the muggle world was by no means untouched by magic and Regulus was not fool enough to believe that he and his son were entirely safe out here – the ever-present security personnel that followed were proof of that – but, still, it was a far more preferable choice for excursions such as these.

Not that Regulus would ever, in a million years, have selected this particular activity as a way to spend an afternoon.

He made his way down the walkway, shrugging out of his coat in the heavily heated room, and eyed the various stationary, lined up automobiles that he passed, with a disinterest bourn of the fact that he knew nothing about these things and, really, had never had any wish to.

Malachi, however, was another matter; darting up and down the walkways, peering in the windows, sitting in the worn leather seats, delightedly turning the wheel before him and pointing out to his father that he was controlling the wheels and wasn't it awesome, how muggles had built these things from nothing to replace what they could do by magic?

Regulus wasn't sure, exactly, how Malachi's dissatisfaction with the Statue of Secrecy had somehow been turned around into this, rather odd, muggle obsession; nor was he entirely sure why, exactly, it made him just as uncomfortable – as it was surely the preferable alternative – but he went along with it, anyway, letting Malachi pick the events of the week now that it was just the two of them.

Well.

Except for one, maybe.

"Check out this, Dad," Malachi beamed up at him, as he approached.

He was sitting on a motorbike.

That was a bit more familiar to Regulus.

"Very nice."

"Wizards have things like this too, you know," Malachi pointed out and Regulus nodded, crossing his arms with a smile as Malachi elaborated; "Magically enchanted ones."

"So, they do. Your Uncle Sirius had one."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Where is it now?"

Regulus gave a shrug; "I imagine he sold it."

"Can I get one?"

Regulus snorted; "Fat chance of that."

Malachi grinned, rolling his eyes, before turning his attention to the bike and fiddling around with the handles and buttons.

"Listen," Regulus said, tossing his coat up over his shoulder. He leaned a hand upon the surface of the bike in front of him, in order to encourage Malachi to look at him as he brought up the topic; "I wondered if you'd mind us having Julia over for dinner sometime this week? Before you go back to school."

Malachi's expression was uncertain; "Oh?"

"I'd like the two of you – well, the three of us – to spend a bit of time together. Get to know one another a bit better."

Malachi leaned back on the seat of the bike, shaking his head; "It's fine, Dad. I _like_ Julia. We don't need to make it all weird or anything."

"Having dinner would make it weird?"

"A bit."

"Well, do you think you could endure the _weirdness_ for a couple of hours? The only way to stop it from being so is by doing it enough that it becomes normal."

Malachi looked at him for a second, before he shrugged; "Sure. Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Malachi leaned forward, taking hold of the handlebars again; "It'll be like…stepmother auditions."

Regulus glanced at him, catching the wicked little grin on his son's face; "And you better be on your best behaviour, Son. I don't want any of your nonsense about it."

Malachi's grin widened.

But then his son's eye caught something, and he frowned, reaching up a hand from where it rested and going to Regulus' arm, where the sleeve of his shirt had rolled up a bit; "Hey, you've got something on your –"

Regulus snatched his hand from the bike.

Malachi looked curious, getting another grin; "What's that?" he tried to catch a glimpse, as Regulus pulled down the sleeve; "A _tattoo_? I didn't know you were such a rebel, Dad."

Regulus tried to smile but it came up short. He'd have known that, even if Malachi's amusement hadn't quickly given way to a look of concern, as he caught his dad's uneasiness.

"What is it?"

"Oh." Regulus waved a hand; "It's nothing, Son. Just, uh…something stupid that I regret. Surprise, surprise."

Malachi looked at him, eyes going between his face and his arm, before he answered him; "Oh. It's about him, then?"

Regulus put a hand on Malachi's shoulder, giving him a smile and saying nothing, but his son wasn't to be deterred. Malachi shook his head, his voice softer as he looked up at him; "You don't have to hide who you are from me, Dad."

For a second, all Regulus could do was stare back at him – at the boy that, sometimes, he couldn't quite believe was actually _his –_ before he drew in a breath, averting his eyes. And then he reached back for the sleeve of the muggle shirt he wore, tugging it back up and letting him see it.

The Dark Mark.

Malachi simply stared at it, saying nothing.

"I like to think that this is _not_ who I am, anymore," Regulus remarked, eyes glancing around the room, at neither the ugly branding upon himself nor the innocent look in his boy's eyes.

"What does it mean?"

"It's his Mark. His followers – all the Death Eaters – they take it, when they swear their devotion to him. It's…rather an exclusive 'honour', shall we say, to be granted the privilege."

Malachi got a little smile, meeting his eyes at the sarcasm.

"So, that's it then? He brands you? Why?"

"It's rooted in Dark Magic; it links us to him and to one another. He can sense us through it; he can summon us; we can summon one another - even him, though we daren't do so unless we have something of great worth to offset the displeasure he feels at being so."

"So, he can sense you? Right now?"

"That I'm alive, yes. Not where I am."

Malachi's eyes were on the Mark, an expected uneasiness in his expression as he considered the information imparted to him.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Is there really going to be another war?"

Regulus waited until his son raised his eyes to his, before he nodded, slowly; "Yes."

"Are you gonna fight?"

"From the shadows, yes," Regulus confirmed; "On the field, though, me being there would only prove to be –"

"Good," Malachi interrupted him before he could finish; "'cause, I don't want you to be on the field."

Regulus gave him a small smile, a sympathetic one, and placed a hand on his shoulder; "Malachi –"

"I don't think it's brave when people do stupid things and get themselves killed."

Regulus gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze; "Neither do I, Son."

Malachi's eyes were back on the Mark, and then his dad's eyes, and then the floor, before he drew in a breath, seeming to struggle with what it was he wanted to say; "Dad…"

Regulus tilted his head to the side, patiently waiting for him to go on.

"Dad, please don't…"

Malachi broke off, releasing a shuddering breath as he averted his eyes. It wasn't quickly enough for Regulus not to catch the glimmer there, though, and he stepped forward, knowing what it was Malachi wanted to say, and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight.

It wasn't a normal occurrence, not at all, for it all to overwhelm his son in such a way.

"Excuse me, Sir? Hey! Sir?"

Regulus drew back – but not completely – and cast an irritated look over his shoulder at the man who had addressed him.

The man looked a little cowed by the look on his face, his tone somewhat sheepish; "Sorry, Sir. You can't let your kid sit on the exhibits –" he pointed, vaguely, in the direction of the entrance; "There's a sign."

Regulus gave a curt nod; "Noted. Thanks."

He turned back to Malachi, who had reddened and was swiping at his eyes, furiously, in order to hide the few tears that had managed to slip free.

"Come on," Regulus said, drawing Malachi from the bike but keeping his arm around him; "What do you say we head on into Manchester? Didn't you say you wanted to pick up a few books?"

Malachi met his look, giving him a small smile and a nod. Regulus grinned, drawing him back in and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead – receiving an 'eurgh!' and a shove, in response – and the two of them laughed, stumbling a little as they disentangled themselves and headed in the direction of the doors.

* * *

"Remus?"

"You seem surprised," Severus remarked, as he leant back against his desk in the Foundation; "It's hardly an out-of-the-blue request; it's something that has been assumed for years now, to which he has had little objection."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," Lily said, glancing away for a second, before she went on; "In case you've forgotten I'm not exactly in a position to ask any favours of Remus right now."

"This is a little more than a 'favour'," Severus pointed out; "You don't think he'd be willing to put aside recent events for Grace's sake?"

"Oh. I'm quite sure he'd be more than happy to lord it over me," Lily stated, as Severus crossed his arms, and she could tell he was biting back a smirk at her tone; "You actually want me to go to him with this?"

"I rather think it's our only option. And as much as I should not wish to invite him back into our lives after finally getting him out of it –"

Lily shot him a look.

"- it is what is necessary, under the current circumstances."

Severus allowed his amusement to show, then; "Though I must admit it seems as if you have more of a problem with it, than I, at the present moment."

"You didn't hear the things he said to me, Severus."

"No. Though I did hear a rather colourful tale to the effect."

"He accused me of not caring about my own son; that I, personally, brought all of this down on us – as if I had any idea that _this_ is how things would have ended up –"

"Lily," Severus interrupted her, no longer seeming amused; "If Harry is capable of putting this all aside, then so are we. Things are escalating, quickly, and it is only a matter of time before they unravel, completely, if we do not get this situation under control. We cannot have the Dark Lord continue to believe that Regulus fathered our daughter and confirmation that it is, in fact, Lupin, with all of the evidence already pointing so much in his direction, is the quickest way to nip all of this in the bud, lest people dig deeper and find out any more of what went on in the months preceding her conception."

Lily frowned; "What aren't you telling me?"

"Only that you and I have not always been quite so careful to conceal our feelings for one another and that is not something that has been overlooked."

"Someone else knows."

"Yes."

"Who?"

Severus regarded her, hesitantly.

"Severus, who?"

He cleared his throat; "Lucius Malfoy."

" _What?"_

"And most likely his wife, considering it was she who related the whispers to him that were going on that year. Hence the need for discretion when it comes to these meetings; there are eyes in the Foundation – everywhere, in fact, these days – and the less we are seen together, the better. Not at all, in fact, lest it stir any reminders to the staff of those rumours."

"Wait, Severus. Are you serious? _Lucius Malfoy_ knows about us. How aren't you freaking out about this? Do you actually trust him?"

"Whether or not I trust him is irrelevant; he'd use it against me, regardless, but only if it serves some purpose to himself. He would not throw valuable information like that away with nothing to gain, nor would he do so unless his hand were forced."

"Which you don't think is going to happen?"

"It might. But for now, there are more imminent threats. The fact that Narcissa's role in the Foundation was so negligible and yet she still managed to hear and _remember_ all that was said about us back then - enough so that Lucius was so able to make that link despite spending these past five years in Azkaban – is evident of how precarious this circumstance is."

Lily nodded, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face and trying to get a handle on her panic – that Severus was obviously expecting, hence his reluctance to relay this to her – and said; "I'll talk to Remus."

If Severus were glad of his success in talking her round, he certainly didn't show it.

Lily glanced at the timepiece on the mantle; "I'd better go and pick up Grace, the Fete will be closing up about now."

Severus gave a nod and glanced towards the window in the direction of the Tonks Facility, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, enough that it gave away his longing to see her. Lily stepped in closer, drawing his attention back to her when her hands went to the side of his neck. He gave her a small, rare smile that she returned, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and drawing him to her, offering the comfort he'd never actually ask for in her embrace.

It wasn't long – though Severus would say it was more than they ought to grant themselves – before she drew back, pressing another kiss to his cheek, this time, and headed from his office. She was careful, as always, not to be spotted and made her way across the grounds to where the Christmas Fete was going on for the school children.

There was laughter in the air and Lily had to dodge the playful antics of children running through the corridors and from the room where she knew Grace's year were being held within. It took a moment, for Lily to locate her, up at the far side of the hall.

Her daughter wasn't alone.

Even from this distance, Lily could clearly make out the woman who was kneeling in front of her – Narcissa Malfoy – a hand on her daughter's arm as she gave her a smile, saying something that Lily could neither hear nor make out, from this distance, before the blonde-haired woman's eyes lifted, apparently noticing her, and she rose from her crouched position.

Lily hurried towards them.

But the Assembly Hall was so large, and Grace so far at the other side of it, that by the time Lily reached her Narcissa had long since swept from the room.

"Sweetheart," Lily quickly knelt in front of Grace – startling her, with her sudden presence – and took her hands; "Are you alright?"

Grace frowned, looking baffled at the question; "Uh huh."

"That lady, the one you were talking to just now –"

"Mrs Malfoy."

"Yes. Do you know her?"

Grace shrugged; "A little bit. She works here, too."

"What was she saying to you just now?"

"She asked me about Christmas and about Harry and if I got presents this year from Father Christmas. I told her about my unicorn that Uncle Remus gave me. She went away really quickly."

"I noticed," Lily glanced in the direction she'd gone, pushing down a sickening churn in her stomach that she couldn't quite shake; "What did she ask you about Harry?"

"She asked if he's nice to me and a good brother. I said yes. Has a little boy, too, and he goes to school with Harry! Draco. That's a funny name, isn't it, Mummy?"

Lily reached up, tucking Grace's hair behind her ear; "Grace, I don't want you talking to Mrs Malfoy, okay? Never again."

"Why not?"

"I just don't like you talking to people that we don't know very well. You remember what I told you about strangers?"

"But everybody's a stranger if you don't talk to them. That's how you make friends."

"That lady is not our friend."

Grace looked back at her, entirely innocently and completely unaware of any danger whatsoever, and then she smiled and nodded; "Okay."

Lily got to her feet, reaching for her hand; "Come on, then, let's head on home."

"Are we coming back for the party tomorrow night?"

"Yes, we are."

Grace smiled, widely, at the confirmation, and Lily forced one of her own in return, as they headed over to gather her things for leaving.

* * *

Harry supposed he should have thought it was odd that it had been almost twenty-four hours since Grace had tried to get him through the mirrors.

But then, it had been almost a week now since she'd received hers from him – what with it being New Years Eve – and, as was always the case, it never really took that long for his sister to lose interest in things as she became better acquainted with them; once the magic had worn off. She was always on the lookout for something bigger, better, something _more_ magical to learn about.

And, so, Harry had only acknowledged the fact vaguely – and with no little level of relief, at that – when she didn't attempt to speak to him throughout the whole of New Years Eve.

Harry was tied up with Snape, anyway, for most of the morning. Trying – and failing – to get some stable occlumency barriers on his side but he was beginning to think that, maybe, Snape was right and the other way he'd suggested – an enhancement of his emotional responses – might be the better option. Particularly now that he'd learned it wasn't a given that he would ever be able to do it the way that Snape did.

And, then, following that training, Harry had gone on down to the library and hung about there. He was bored, obviously, and the Castle seemed larger and quiet and lonely without Malachi, or even Ron and Hermione, there to fill the empty days.

Someone else _was_ there, though – Malfoy – and Harry had been getting the distinct impression that the Slytherin had been following him that week.

Harry had simply ignored him, though – he'd never cared for Malachi's cousin and he talked to Ron as if he were dirt – and just carried on talking to Grace in the mirror whenever he noticed him about.

It was grating, now, though; six days of seeming surveillance and Harry was pretty sure that Malfoy's presence had something to do with either the war or Snape. Like, maybe the great 'honour' Snape had bestowed upon him had been for Malfoy to keep an eye on Harry whenever Snape wasn't able to or something.

So, he took to locking himself up in the Gryffindor Tower, that night.

He'd quite happily spend the New Years Celebrations in his dorm room, rather than in the Great Hall where the few occupants of the Castle had been invited down to socialise until midnight.

That's where Harry was.

In his dorm room, lying back on his bed, the time just about reaching eleven pm. His mind filled with thoughts of occlumency and Snape and Malfoy and the war.

He was thinking about all that Snape had said – how impossible his circumstances were, so much so that Harry actually felt bad for him, now, that he really _couldn't_ be with his sister and how hard that must be – when his mind went blank for a second.

Harry frowned, shaking his head, clearing it of the odd almost-buzzing he felt within it.

For the life of him he couldn't remember what it was he was thinking about.

Snape?

Yes.

Snape.

Or Malfoy, even. He'd never really had much to do with Malfoy; the leader of the 'Prissies', as he and Ron liked to call his group of Slytherins. Though Harry had actively tried _not_ to think of them in that manner, now that Malachi had seemed to have joined that crowd.

Still. He knew that he had known Snape as a child, at least, and most of the Slytherins worshipped the ground that he walked on; it would make sense that, in lieu of himself, Snape would ask one of his students to keep an eye on him.

It didn't explain why Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts so abruptly right in the middle of the holidays though.

Harry's focus drifted in and out, and he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again the brightest of the room was almost blinding.

What had he been thinking about?

Malfoy?

Snape.

Voldemort.

Harry was suddenly walking down the corridor of what he recognised was the Foundation, in long, purposeful strides that was not in any way how he would walk.

There were doors on either side of him as he made his way towards the doubles up at the end of the corridor. The Lab. Harry knew it from the few times that he visited his mother where she worked.

He burst through the doors, with purpose, and his gaze centred on the small form in the middle of the room.

It was Grace.

She was sitting there, upon a chair, frozen still and she was staring back at him – right at him – with a look of utter terror in her eyes and when he spoke, his voice was that high, chilling familiar voice that haunted Harry's nightmares.

"No need to be afraid, child. Surely someone will come for you soon."

Harry was circling her as the voice spoke.

Grace was trembling where she sat.

Her breaths coming out as little shudders, as the voice went on.

"That elusive father of yours, who has evaded me so all these years, will certainly come to his daughter's aide, would he not?" Harry was in front of her once more, Grace lifting her chin to meet his eyes; "Or, perhaps, even a sibling who could surely not stand by and allow his dear little sister to suffer the same fate as that of his beloved uncle?"

Grace's voice was a quiet whimper; belying terror and hopelessness and desperation. A tone that should never be heard from her.

"Harry."

There was a moment of stillness, where his sister's pleading, frightened eyes stared straight back into his.

And, then, the high voice uttered from his lips; "Crucio!"

And his baby sister was screaming and writhing on the floor.

And _Harry_ was screaming and writhing on the floor.

His scar was on fire and he was yelling and Voldemort - _Voldemort_ – had his little sister.

* * *

Grace tossed the toys that came to hand over her shoulder, making a massive mess her mum would be really mad about when she came into her room, as she dug through her toy chest.

She couldn't find Harry's mirror anywhere!

"Grace, what are you doing?"

Grace kept looking, even though she could see the bottom of her toy box now and she was sure the mirror wasn't in it; "Mummy, have you seen my mirror?"

Her mum came into the room, gathering up some of the toys quickly in her arms and dumping them back into the box as she said; "Sweetheart, we have to go, the party will have already started."

"But I wanted to take my mirror, so I could say Happy New Year to Harry at midnight!"

"Where did you last have it?"

Grace couldn't remember. She had wanted to say good morning to Harry today but, when it wasn't on her bed stand, she thought she'd just left it downstairs and then she forgot to look again when Julia had come over to play for the afternoon.

It must have been the night before but, then, no, because if she'd said goodnight to Harry before bed it would have been in her room on the stand.

The Foundation, then, at the Fete?

Yes. It was at the Fete!

Grace was showing Harry all the things that the Phoenix Centre had put on for them. And then Mrs Malfoy had come over.

Grace opened her mouth, to tell her mum, but her mum spoke first.

"We'll look for it later, Grace. Come on, Julia's waiting."

"But Mummy –"

"Come on," her mum said with a smile, making a shooing motion with her hand and Grace sighed, shoulders dropping.

But, then, she knew where the mirror was now – it was at the Foundation! – and that's where they were going, anyway, so she'd be able to look for it then.

Grace took her mum's hand, as they hurried down the stairs to head off to the party.

* * *

"Here you go, Boss," a drink was handed Regulus' way across the bar.

He took it, tilting it in the barman's direction with a smile of thanks, as he glanced out over the festivities taking place.

The Ballroom was filled with chatter and laughter and hooting and hollers, as the band played on and the partygoers spilled on and off the dancefloor, living it up at the New Years' Fundraiser – that had gone ahead despite the clear threat that the event was under of imminent attack – and Regulus couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of self-satisfaction at how everything was turning out.

Everything was in place.

They could not be more ready for this, if the Dark Lord should make his move that night.

Severus had revealed the likely point of entry – a point which he had revealed to the Dark Lord himself – that was so far out of the way of where the festivities were going on, that the place would be totally cleared out before any damage at all could be done. Severus' loyalties and place in the Circle would be secured, what with him providing the valuable information – he could not be blamed that the evacuation procedures were so thoroughly effective, after all – and the Dark Lord would reveal himself to the world, for nothing, with zero casualties to boast of, turning up at a deserted Foundation and it almost made Regulus laugh, at how masterfully he and Severus had played it.

Regulus lifted his chin in greeting, when Severus approached; "How's it looking?"

"All in place. The floo is connected?"

"This afternoon; magically enchanted to activate when the alarm is triggered. They'll dispel any who walk through at various points throughout Hogsmeade."

"And the portkeys?"

Regulus nodded in the direction of the ledges that ran along the sides of all the walls; "The candlesticks."

"And the guests have been briefed?"

"I'm starting to think you haven't been paying attention, Severus."

Severus' lips twitched, and then he glanced at him, allowing a smile; a brief one, of course, but there all the same.

"I have finally had opportunity to relay the details of the circumstances to the Headmaster," he took the glass of firewhiskey that the barman held out to him, having noticed Severus' new presence at Regulus side, before taking a sip and nodding in the direction of the windows; "He has stationed Nymphadora Tonks and Lupin just beyond the boundaries – though I insisted the Security Personnel hired were sufficient – and the Order is ready to convene –" Severus hesitated, ever so slightly in his words, when Regulus noticed him spot Lily and Julia laughing and dancing at the far side of the room; "- should it prove necessary."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Regulus lifted his glass for a drink; "The incident at the Department of Mysteries not withstanding; it's been a good thirteen years since I've been involved in a duel. I don't quite like my chances."

Severus got a ghost of a smile at the remark; "The Order's involvement would prove too small a return, in exchange for pushing the Wizarding World into open warfare."

"And Crouch?"

"Still unaware. Though his Aurors are lined up ready for dispatch; as they have been for weeks. No doubt a number of Death Eaters will be subdued by the Ministry's initial response to the Foundation's defences being breached, prior to their departure; the best outcome we could hope for, under the circumstances."

"And the worst?"

"That the Ministry Aurors will show up to an empty Foundation. Nothing lost; nothing gained."

"Other than the Dark Lord's exposure."

"And his ire, of course."

Severus' eyes were still on Lily.

"Someone taken your fancy?"

Severus did not seem amused.

"I was not aware that she'd be here. Did she bring Grace?"

Regulus nodded, indicating in the direction of the Tonks Facility with a tip of his glass; "At the school. Though they'd have cleared out, by now, for their New Year's Slumber Party at the Farmstead."

"The Farmstead?" Severus repeated; "I thought the Facility had suspended operations for the holidays."

"It has. I had the keepers reconvene for the occasion."

Severus visibly relaxed at the information, the assurance that his daughter was not on the premises. Regulus' eyes sought out Malachi, who was happily chatting away to an older girl in the corner of the room. He rolled his eyes, snickering a little to himself.

"You have only yourself to blame for that," Severus remarked, drawing Regulus' attention back to him, and his friend was smirking as he glanced in the direction of his son.

Regulus lifted his shoulders, in an innocent gesture; "Can't imagine what you mean, Sev."

Severus' smirk became a grin and then his eyes caught something – or, rather, someone – to the side of him and he inclined his head – and Regulus realised he had noticed Julia approaching – before he began to make his departure; "Do not do anything foolish and hang about if our suspicions actually come to fruition."

"Believe me, I have no intention of _that_ ," Regulus stated, as Severus headed off to continue his scouting of the defences.

Regulus' smile brightened when Julia reached him; "Hello there."

"Mr Black."

She cast him a returning smile of her own, that he hadn't seen in over a week and he glanced around, carefully, aware of the need for discretion.

"You had me believe you were working this evening."

"On standby," Julia stated, lifting the glass of – what Regulus now realised was – pumpkin juice, as an indication of the fact that she wasn't drinking; "But you know me, I couldn't miss a party."

"Glad to hear it," Regulus said, leaning back against the bar.

Julia glanced in the direction of the dancefloor; "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"

Regulus chuckled; "You're joking."

"You'd know if I were joking, Black," Julia said, with a widening smile, before she raised an eyebrow; "I'm pretty familiar with your moves."

Regulus shook his head, still smiling but it was sincerely apologetic, now, rather than teasing; "I can't dance with you. Not here."

Julia tilted her head to the side; "We've danced here a hundred times before."

"The circumstances are a bit different, this time."

"Oh, I'm aware. That's why I should quite like to."

Regulus drew in a breath, looking at her with all of the affection her felt for her – which, frankly, was risky _enough_ under the current circumstances – and shook his head, stepping towards to make his way by her.

"You know why I can't dance with you this time, Julia," he said, before leaned in closer, risking it for barely a second, his lips close to her ear when he added; "It's obvious."

Before heading into the crowd to join the party.

* * *

No one came at the sounds of his screams.

It took a minute for Harry to realise what had happened.

His throat was hoarse, and his head was spinning, and his heart was pounding, and his scar was on _fire._

And _Grace_.

Harry scrambled to all fours where he had collapsed onto the floor, quickly crawling his way across the floor to his school bag and hauling it open. He rummaged in it, frantically, until he felt the cool hard surface of the mirror and yanked it out.

"Grace," he said, his voice rough and sounding nothing at all like himself; "Grace Potter."

Nothing.

"Grace Potter!" he repeated, feeling his stomach and his heart and his whole damn world bloody sinking as his calls went unanswered.

"Grace, please. Grace!"

Nothing but the reflection of his own, desperate face stared back at him.

Harry tossed it aside, onto the bed, and hurried from the dorm room.

* * *

Malachi's conversation – conversation, it wasn't _flirting –_ with the pretty blond girl who had been giving him the come-hither eyes all eveninghad come to an abrupt end, when – out of nowhere – her _boyfriend_ had shown up and had seemed pretty keen to teach Malachi a thing or two about moving in on another guy's girl.

Malachi had quickly taken off for his dad's office – for his own bloody protection, mind – shrugging away the concerned warnings from the Security Personnel that he passed, who insisted that he must remain in the Ballroom for the festivities, knowing full well that he was being tailed by his dad's assigned protector, anyway.

It was no great loss.

Malachi enjoyed parties usually in the initial few hours, but they started to drag on, by the end of them, and even the fact that this was New Years and the whole point was a big build up to the 'ultimate celebration' at midnight didn't really make him feel all that enticed to stay.

His dad had been living it up, of course, out on the dancefloor, talking with all the guests, paying particular attention to the women – Malachi had noticed Julia in the crowd, but she wasn't one of the ones who'd gathered his dad's attention, which seemed a bit weird to him – and he was amused, as always, by his dad's antics.

But, still, he was just as happily engaged by the book he'd plucked from his dad's bookshelf before he'd settled down on the on cushioned window seat at the far side of his dad's office.

Malachi didn't know how long he'd been in there, before the door to the office clicked open and Julia Bradbury walked inside.

She didn't notice him where he was sitting.

Malachi watched her, with a frown, wondering what it was she was doing there, in his father's office, without him.

He wasn't left wondering long.

The door opened once more, a minute or so later, and his dad slipped into the room; he didn't notice Malachi sitting in their either, his smile wide and his eyes all for the woman who had obviously been waiting for him.

"You summoned me?" Julia said, with a grin, as his dad enveloped her in his arms.

"Hm. That I did."

"And here was me thinking it was far too risky for you to be seen with me."

"Hence the new surroundings," his dad stated, his smile brighter than Malachi had ever seen it as he looked at her; "I have been careful to ensure that I've been paying attention to a vast number of female guests this night, so as not to draw any particular suspicion upon us if we are spotted together."

"So, I noticed."

"Ah," his dad practically purred, grinning; "Is that jealousy that I'm sensing, Miss Bradbury?"

"All these tactics and yet I still don't get a dance."

"I can dance with you here," his dad declared, before taking a hand of hers in his, his other on her lower back and giving her a dip with a flourish, making Julia laugh and Malachi fight a smirk.

"Oh, but I do so like the music, Mr Black."

"Ah, ah!" his dad lifted a finger, tapping her nose with it once and, when he did, music – obviously by magic – filled the air; "Is that more to your liking?"

It was a lively jig of a tune.

Malachi reached up a hand, covering his mouth to muffle his snickers.

"Hm. It helps," Julia conceded, with an adoring smile in his father's direction that both made Malachi feel incredibly uncomfortable, while at the same time incredibly, well, warmed by the way she seemed to care so much about his dad.

Of course, his dad didn't stop there.

"Perhaps you'd like the music a little softer?" his dad said, teasingly, with a grin and, sure enough a melody filled the air, slower and softer; "Or the lights a little dimmer?"

The lights followed suit.

Candles flickered to life.

Obviously, his dad had put some effort into learning wandless magic for the sole purpose of _seduction._

Malachi was going to _rip_ his dad something stupid for this.

The sound of a zipper made Malachi look sharply back in their direction.

His dad was, now, proceeding to snog Julia's face off and Malachi was careful not to look any closer than that, aware that the sound he had heard was a sign that someone might be getting a little underdressed really rather quickly.

 _That_ escalated out of nowhere.

His dad certainly didn't waste time.

Malachi rolled his eyes, pushing himself upwards from where he was lounging, figuring he'd better make his presence known before they – all – reached the point of no return. But, before he could, Julia drew back from his dad's embrace and spoke – alarmingly breathlessly – with a glance in the direction of the door; "You think we can lose the gatekeeper?"

"The gatekeeper?" his dad repeated, with a grin, brushing back the hair that had fallen over her shoulder and leaning down to press a kiss there.

Malachi averted his eyes.

"Is that the muggle way of talking dirty?"

Malachi looked back in their direction, sharply; intrigued by the new information that Julia had some sort of connection to the Muggle World. Muggleborn, maybe.

Julia was laughing, shoving his dad off of her; "I'm talking about Bozo standing guard at the door."

His dad was frowning and smiling at the same time; "Bozo? What are you –" he broke off, turning in the direction of the door with a frown before heading over towards it, pulling it open.

He peeked outside it for a second, before he vanished over the other side of the threshold.

Malachi snickered, then, realising that Julia was talking about _his_ assigned security guard who had obviously been waiting on Malachi re-emerging.

His dad walked back into the room a minute later.

His dad's eyes very quickly found him that time.

"Hey Dad!" Malachi called over.

His dad rolled his eyes, casting a look Julia's way; "I believe you know my son?"

Julia didn't seem offended or embarrassed or, even, all that bothered by what he'd obviously seen, composing herself, quickly, and giving a warm smile his way; "Hi, Malachi."

"Hey," Malachi smiled back.

It was easier, this time, in light of seeing how his dad was with her.

"What are you doing here?" his dad asked, as he approached him, his voice lowering; "You could have said something, you know."

"Oh. I wouldn't have wanted to interrupt, Dad."

His dad crossed his arms across his chest, looking a bit reddened and more embarrassed by the whole thing than Julia was. No wonder! Malachi had no idea his dad was so _whipped_ , and he gave a laugh to himself as he pushed himself up to his feet.

Malachi felt his dad's hand on his back – for reassurance, he supposed – when he looked at Julia where she stood. In lieu of smiling, politely, Malachi wasn't really sure what to do or say.

It wasn't like Julia was a stranger but, still.

It was awkward.

She obviously knew his dad really well. A side of him that Malachi didn't even know.

He glanced at his dad, a little uncertainly, and receiving a reassuring smile and that very-familiar twinkle in his dad's eyes and he relaxed, turning back to her.

He brought up the point that had very quickly got his attention about her a few moments ago.

"Did you grow up with muggles?"

* * *

Harry ran – he _ran –_ down the stairs to the dungeons.

Took them two at a time, so that he stumbled – threatening to fall and break his bloody neck on the concrete – but there wasn't a minute to waste. He'd seen Grace – Voldemort had Grace! – and it was exactly the way he had seen things in his nightmares – the very same that had revealed the earlier schemes of Peter Pettigrew - and he had to get to Snape, _now._

Harry banged on the door to the Potion Master's office, frantically.

There was no answer.

"Snape!"

Harry thudded against the solid wood, calling out his name again, before he reached down, grabbing and twisting and shaking the handle, in a vain attempt to get it open.

"He's not here."

Harry spun around, catching sight of Malfoy standing at entrance of the stairs to the Slytherin dorm rooms.

Harry drew in a breath, attempting to steady himself a bit; "Do you know where he is?"

"The Foundation," Malfoy stated.

Harry frowned; "The Foundation?"

That's where Voldemort had Grace! Did Snape already know? Had he gone to get her already?

Or, wait. Was…was he part of it? Was it all some sort of war strategy or something that was playing out, that Harry didn't know about?

No.

That was crazy.

Harry had seen it – it was pretty damn obvious, now, with what he knew – how protective Snape was over Grace and how even just the slightest mention of her was enough to set him off on one.

He wouldn't risk her. Not ever.

He obviously didn't know.

"Yes. For the Fundraiser. Everyone will be there."

Harry met Malfoy's eyes.

The New Year's Gala. Of course. Harry had known about it; it was one of the events that Mr Black had told him that he'd take him and Malachi to, when he had gone to stay for the holidays.

Harry turned away, hurrying back in the directions of the stairs – running, again – this time in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.

If he'd wanted any confirmation that what he had seen was true, then he certainly had it now. His mum would have taken Grace there; she would have been in the Phoenix Centre. It would have been _easy_ for Voldemort to have gotten to her, there, if he was within the facility, and he would have taken her down to the Lab – right underneath all of their noses – just waiting to strike.

She was obviously bait.

Harry knew that, he wasn't stupid. For him, maybe, but for her 'elusive father', as well, as Voldemort had called him. He was using her to get to Mr Black – Snape had said Voldemort thought it was him – but Harry knew better than to assume that his sister wouldn't be harmed or killed for it.

If anything, that was the whole point.

He remembered everything that Snape had suggested him about Malachi's circumstances – being the son of Regulus Black's – and what it would mean if word were to get out that Snape was her father and, hell, the circumstances were obviously the same if Voldemort thought she was a Black!

He was going to lure Mr Black down there, torture his baby sister right in front of him, kill her to make him suffer – he probably didn't even care about Harry and whether or not he'd show up – and Harry was panting, his heart and mind _racing_ when he finally reached the door to his Uncle Remus' chambers.

"Uncle Remus!" he banged on it with he same frantic urgency that he had done so with Snape's; "Uncle Remus!"

There was no answer.

Remus wasn't there.

Neither him nor Snape were at the Castle.

He wasn't in the Hall for the New Year's Festivities, Harry was sure of it. He'd looked in on the way by, as he'd been running for the dungeons.

Neither was Dumbledore.

He needed to get to one of them; to Remus, to Snape, to Mr Black, even his mum, she was in the Order too. She could alert them or something or even go and save her; she had come for him, after all, when Voldemort had managed to capture him that summer.

Snape would be at the Foundation. Mr Black and his mum, too. He had to get there. To them. To warn them.

"Mr Potter."

Harry spun around at the voice, coming face to face with Professor McGonagall.

"Professor!"

"You seem rather rattled, Mr Potter. Is something the matter?"

"Yes. I mean. No. I have to go to the Aurelius Foundation right now."

His Head of House raised an eyebrow; "Is that right, Mr Potter? It is almost midnight, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Yes. I did notice, Professor. I have to see my mum. She'll be there. She wanted me to come. Please Professor; it's important that I see her. _Right now_."

Professor McGonagall regarded him, carefully – it was obvious something was wrong – before she gave a single nod and said; "Come with me."

She led him in the direction of her office.

Harry followed – reluctantly – figuring there was going to be a whole bunch of questions and procedures and _waiting about,_ even if McGonagall was willing to get him to his mum. There was no time to be waiting, he had to get to the Foundation. And Harry was reluctant to burst forth with the reasons for it, lest Voldemort catch him revealing it and push forward with his plans for his sister – that he was trying this best not to freak out about – before he or McGonagall actually had the chance to warn the people who could actually do something about this.

Harry was steps from the door when he suddenly remembered it.

The little book that Mr Black had presented him with at the beginning of the holidays. His portkey. The portkey that had been enchanted to take him straight to Mr Black's office at the Foundation.

Harry stopped walking, abruptly.

McGonagall followed suit, turning to face him with a frown; "Mr Potter?"

"Nevermind Professor. I'll just catch her tomorrow."

"Potter –"

"Thanks anyway!" Harry said, backing up; "Happy New Year, Professor." He turned and hurried away from her, ignoring his Head of House's call for him to come back, and ran in the direction of his dorm room.

* * *

Severus peered through the large doorway of the barn.

It was a place Severus had never set foot upon – the Farmstead – what with it being acquired in the Foundation's expansion during his absence. It wasn't somewhere he would, in all actuality, ever need to.

Until this night, it seemed, now that he had learned his daughter was to be spending the night there.

Severus has scouted the grounds of it, first, and, only when he was assured of the adequate security measures in place, had he made his presence known. Mrs Gillan, the Headmaster of the Phoenix Centre, had greeted him – with obvious surprise – but had easily swallowed his excuse that 'the boss' had insisted he assess the defences.

He made a show of it, until the tutors no longer took any notice of him – too tied up dealing with the children still awake and running riot, even at this late hour – and he had taken his chance to peer in upon the sleeping ones.

It didn't take long for his eyes to settle upon his daughter.

She was not sleeping, no, but she was settled; lying propped up against the hay between two other girls. One of whom was sleeping, soundly, and the other with whom his daughter was engaged in quiet, but animated, conversation.

Severus knew better than to linger; forcing himself to turn away and make his way back to the Foundation now that his doubts had been put to rest.

Secure in the knowledge that Grace was both content and entirely safe.

* * *

"Have you ever flown like them?" Malachi asked, eyes wide; "Like, in an aeroplane?"

Julia smiled, giving a nod; "Sure have."

Malachi sat upon the couch in Regulus' office, entirely enraptured with Julia's answers to the question after question that he had about the muggle world.

Regulus, on the other hand, was not so engaged by the conversation – as much as it both warmed and delighted him, to see the two of them getting along so splendidly – and offered to head on back to the Ballroom to get them some drinks to bring in the New Year come midnight, barely ten minutes away.

He headed on back into the party, the atmosphere abuzz with the anticipation of the New Year's countdown, as people continued to dance and drink and be merry.

Regulus spotted Narcissa up ahead, at the bar – which just so happened to be where he was headed – and he approached, first addressing the barman.

"Daisy Root, firewhiskey and a…" Regulus hesitated, giving a nod; "Make it two firewhiskeys."

"Right on it, Boss."

The barman – Aldrick – set about making up the drinks, while Regulus turned to his cousin with a smile and a nod in the direction of the bar; "You good?"

Narcissa lifted the Champers glass she held.

"Brings you back, doesn't it?" Regulus remarked, eyes going out to the dancefloor.

Narcissa got a small smile, giving a nod but not quite meeting his eyes when he looked at her, going on; "I mean, if there's one thing people can't deny about our family – they sure knew how to throw a party."

Regulus grinned at the recollection of it, leaning against the bar, as his mind wandered back to all those grand occasions that he and his brother and his cousins were dragged along to by their respective parents to the others that happened to be hosting that year. All the mischief and the mayhem that they would wreak upon the other guests. Or, rather, that he and Sirius would wreak upon their older cousins, whenever they could get the chance.

Regulus chuckled, almost lost in the memories of it; "Sometimes I think –"

"Regulus."

He looked at her, sharply, at the urgency in her tone. An urgency that was reflected in her eyes, when he looked at her.

Regulus simply stared back at her – though he had a fair idea of what it was she had to say – as if daring her to do so.

Narcissa shook her head, her voice quiet; "Get out of here."

Regulus lifted his chin, eyeing her.

Narcissa only met his look, squarely, saying no more.

He raised an eyebrow; "Now?"

She nodded. Not looking away.

Regulus drew in a breath, stepping backwards, away from her – knowing, exactly, what it was that she meant – and he turned just as the countdown to New Year began – _of course,_ the Dark Lord would want to make a good show of it – and his eyes sought those of the lead security personnel as the collective voices of the guests rang out.

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven."

The Security Supervisor's eyes met Regulus' and he made to nod, to give the signal, but it was unnecessary.

As the countdown hit ' _three'_ the room was suddenly filled with the shriek of the sirens; the alerts that the defences had been breached and the fireplaces lining the walls flared up, green, coming to life as per the evacuation procedures, and there were yells and screams and thudding footsteps – despite the briefing of what to do and to remain calm in an event such as this – but Regulus couldn't blame them because even _he_ felt that rush of fear and adrenaline come upon him as everyone began scrambling for the exits, when he had been pretty much expecting this and had spent all week arranging the response.

Guests grabbed the candlesticks lining the ledges – the portkeys – vanishing off to safety, as others headed out through the floo in a slow, steady stream and Regulus was walking, briskly, breaking out into a run from the Ballroom, back in the direction of the offices.

His heart was thudding as he rounded the corner and, there, Julia and Malachi were standing just outside his office – uncertainly, as if they were considering whether or not to head in the direction of the Ballroom – but Regulus gave them a reassuring smile, as he approached, not stopping in his steps.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Oh; just a little defence breach. Nothing a little portkey won't sort out for us," Regulus ushered them back into his office.

"Regulus?" Julia looked at him, in concern, as he pushed the door shut and hurried over to his desk, for the portkey he had stashed there earlier that week.

"Dad; is it him?"

Regulus met Malachi's eyes, as he lifted the portkey – wrapped in a cloth, so as not to initiate the magic before due time – and headed back to them; "Yes. And we'll be long gone before he gets here." He took out the portkey – his touch triggering the twenty-second countdown he had instated upon it – and held it out to Malachi and Julia.

Both took it.

There was no need to wait the twenty seconds; Regulus opened his mouth to speak the word to enact the magic – jump – but, before he could, there was a stir and then a distinctive thud at the back of the room.

Harry – appearing as if from nowhere – suddenly sprung to his feet from behind his desk.

"Harry!" Malachi was the first to express surprise.

"Harry, get over here!" Regulus burst out, panic very quickly rising within him at the sight of him.

"Mr Black!" Harry hurried over; "Mr Black; it's him, it's Vold – he's _here!"_

"I know he's here, that's why we have to go," Regulus grabbed Harry by the wrist.

"He's got Grace!"

"What?" Regulus shook his head – that was impossible – pulling Harry closer; "Here, grab the portkey –"

"He's got my sister!"

"We'll get the Order –"

"I can't leave her –"

"He doesn't have her –"

"I _saw_ her! I saw it in my head, just like Pettigrew!"

"Harry –"

"We have to save her –"

"Harry, in a second this place is going to be crawling with Death Eaters! This is the _only_ way out. Now take the portkey!"

"I'm not going without Grace!"

"Harry!"

Regulus felt the beginning pull of the portkey – twenty seconds up – and his eyes met Malachi's for the briefest of moments. And Malachi's face dropped, the realisation there when their eyes met, and Regulus tried to apologise or make his son understand or make him realise _why_ but a millisecond wasn't enough to convey any of that.

Regulus let go.

"Dad!"

Malachi and Julia vanished.

Leaving Harry and Regulus behind.


	61. December 1994: All Out War

Mr Black stood at the window of his office, staring out at the grounds.

Harry could see them from where he stood behind him; the dark silhouettes of the arriving Death Eaters hurrying into the Ballroom in the distance.

Mr Black took a step back, turning and walking, briskly, in the direction of the cupboards behind his desk, flicking his wand as he did so.

A bright silvery otter – a patronus – formed from the edge of it and spun from the room in a flash. Harry frowned, watching it go, but pushed any curiosity about it aside – his mind still entirely on Grace.

"Mr Black," Harry hurried after him; "Mr Black, please –"

"Can you duel?" Mr Black turned to him, abruptly.

"What?"

"Can you duel?"

Harry hesitated, uncertainly; "I…I've been getting lessons with Unc – with Professor Lupin. He's taught me some stuff."

Mr Black's eyes averted, ever so slightly, and Harry caught the almost-hopelessness in his eyes at the less-than-confident assertion.

"Yes, I can duel," Harry said, more firmly.

Mr Black's eyes closed as he shook his head, turning and yanking the doors to the cupboards open before reaching inside; "Where did you see her?"

"In the Lab."

Mr Black continued talking to him, as he carried on rummaging amongst the boxes in the cupboard – half his body inside it - as he did; "It's not possible, Harry. If he were here, if he'd managed to get in without detection, the Death Eaters wouldn't have triggered the alarms."

"Maybe they did it on purpose."

"Why would they do that?"

"To clear the place out? To let you know he was here? I don't know, you tell me. You used to be one of them, didn't you? Maybe it's a trick."

"Of course, it's a trick, Harry!" Mr Black snapped as looked over his shoulder at him, sharply; "And we're the suckers."

He got to his feet, clutching folded black robes in his hands that he shook out, before shrugging into them. He lifted something silver – a mask, one of the ones Harry recognised from his nightmares and his witnessing of Voldemort's resurrection – though he didn't put it on, yet.

"If she's here –" Mr Black began, doing up the fastenings of his Death Eater robes, sounding entirely sceptical as to the possibility of it; "- then the Order will have heard about it by now, and they'll come for her. But Grace _isn't_ on the grounds, Harry – she can't be, there's been Personnel posted at every doorway of this building since lunchtime this afternoon – and if the Dark Lord _were_ to somehow get his hands on her why, _why_ would he bring Grace here, of all places?"

"To get to you. He thinks she's yours, he thinks you'll come for her –"

Mr Black looked at him, shaking his head; "Harry; if Grace were taken, don't you think her _father_ would know something about it? That something would already be being done to recover her?"

Mr Black drew in a breath, as if trying to get his temper in check, and then reached back into the cupboard, drawing out another set of robes and handing them over to Harry; "Put these on. There's only one mask so, just keep your head down, stay behind me." He stepped forward, pulling back the chair behind his desk and reached down, tossing back the rug that had been beneath it; "Lets just hope my cousin hasn't revealed the –"

"I know what I saw, Mr Black!" Harry insisted, frustrated by Mr Black's refusal to even consider that Grace might be in danger; "I've been seeing things all year; things that Voldemort –" Mr Black flinched at the name; "- things that's he's been doing. And I'm telling you, he's got Grace!"

Mr Black opened his mouth to speak but Harry was having none of it, he had to make him see, and he reached into his pockets, pulling out the mirror that had been failing him all evening and yelling into it; "Grace Potter!"

He held it out to Mr Black, to make him look, shoving it into his hand; "I gave Grace the other one for Christmas and she's been on it every day all week to me – she's treated it like bloody gold dust, and if she was safe, she'd answer me! She's here, at the Foundation, I know it!"

Mr Black released an exasperated breath, as he shook his head, looking down at the mirror in his hand.

And then he froze.

Harry frowned, eyes going to the mirror.

It wasn't either of them staring back through the surface. It wasn't a reflection. It was a window; through to the other side.

And, from it, a gleaming silver mask stared straight back up at them.

The mirror slipped from Mr Black's fingers; falling and shattering on the floor. But the Death Eater on the other side was still there – the mirror and mask in fragments – and the voice was silky smooth when it spoke from them.

"That's seven years bad luck, Regulus."

Mr Black took a step back, his wand swiftly drawn.

"Not that you're going to be around to see it, I'm afraid."

Mr Black's voice was a whisper; "Dammit."

The windows of the office were suddenly blown out in a crashing shatter and Mr Black and Harry hit the floor under the force of the impact, glass showering down upon and around them.

* * *

A jet of purple light flew at him where he was on his back on the floor and Regulus barely deflected it, another firing his way on the heels of it and he only just rolled out of the way in time to avoid being hit.

"Harry! Harry get down; run!"

His instructions were contradictory, making no sense, but he couldn't even see Harry and Death Eaters were pouring into the room and it had been thirteen bloody years since he'd duelled for his life against _one_ damn adversary – nevermind all of these! – and he was pretty certain that his chances were minimal.

Regulus sprung to his feet, aware of the fact that he couldn't just _lie_ there and expect to bloody survive and he fired curse after curse at the figures in the room and most of them were deflected, but it was a distraction, at the very least – and it was startling, how easily the spells came to him, the hexes, the curses – but he couldn't hold them off for long, no, and he was almost struck, deflecting it at the last moment so that the force of the colliding magic sent him flying backwards with an ' _ompfh'_ and he hit the shelves, and crumbled to the ground.

His duelling attempts were almost pitiful; rusty and unpolished but, even then, flashes of light still fired forth from his wand as he scrambled for cover – and wasn't it funny how the threat of impeding death could so effectively ignite a person's self-preservation instincts – and voiceless spells sprung from him, never forgotten – _'incarcerous, 'impedimenta','stupefy'_ – and he _got_ one, then.

But the moment of triumph didn't last long as another attempted to engage him and Regulus fired out a ' _protego'_ , taking cover with a dive behind the couch as an _'avada kedavra!' –_ from the _very_ familiar voice of his oldest cousin – was yelled out and a flash of green light was fired his way.

"NO!"

It was Lucius' voice. The very same voice that had spoken from the mirror.

The utter bastard.

"The Dark Lord wants them alive!"

Regulus could have almost sighed with relief – he'd surely be dead within the next two minutes, otherwise – not that it was anything to be excited about.

The Dark Lord - of course - had far more _satisfying_ intentions towards he and Harry.

Regulus put his cheek to the floor for the briefest of seconds, eyes scanning the carpet for any sign of Harry, and he could see his feet up ahead, evident of the boy taking cover behind his desk, but Regulus was not the only one taking fire and he could see flashes of purple and then orange and then yellow lighting Harry's hiding place, as a Death Eater engaged him.

Thankfully, it seemed as if Harry was actually able to respond and fire back a few defensive spells of his own and keep him at bay. Though, obviously, Regulus couldn't count on Harry holding out so, for much longer.

Regulus quickly tried to figure out who it was that was attacking him – noticed one of them advancing on the desk past his own returning jinxes on those focused upon _him_ – and fired out a stunning spell as soon as he got the chance, flooring them when he did; not much of an accomplishment, considering the Death Eater's back was to him.

It was all Regulus could do for Harry before he was suddenly engaged again; Lucius, this time, and Regulus fired back from where he was taking cover – firing two spells, each on the heels of one another, that he knew would be deflected – before blowing up the bookcase to the side of where Lucius' stood and forcing him, as well as the nearby others, to instinctively lift their arms to take cover.

Regulus took the opportunity of distraction to dash from the couch to the desk, throwing himself down next to Harry where he was huddled, his wand clutched tight in his hand.

"Mr Black!"

"Blow up the furniture, Harry! Confringo!"

Harry did as he was told, blowing up the nearby shelves and bookcases and the chair and the couch – everything he could – while Regulus fired out curse after curse with one hand – it was sloppy fighting and it probably wouldn't do much damage but he was only fighting for time – as he grabbled at the floorboard with the other – the one he had been going to lift before Harry presented him with that damn mirror - and threw it aside; the same for the other two lined up next to it, exposing the escape underpasses below.

Another spell from him, from Harry, fired forth, keeping the Death Eaters at distance, and then Regulus grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and shoved him down the gap into the tunnel.

Lucius was suddenly upon him at the desk, firing forth a hex and Regulus lifted his wand, deflecting the offending spell with one of his own – and he was getting the distinct impression that Lucius was actually pulling his punches more than necessary and that was probably the only reason they hadn't captured him by now – before he fired out another, a non-lethal that he verbalised, unnecessarily - 'stupefy', and he got him, that time – almost as if the man didn't bother to deflect knowing what it was that was coming – and Lucius hit the ground.

Regulus jumped down the gap in the floorboard – the tunnels were dark and narrow, so that only one person at a time could walk through, which could work to their advantage, so long as they weren't corned - and then he realised that Harry had _waited_ for him and he grabbed him, roughly, shoving him on ahead.

"Go! GO! Run!"

Harry did.

* * *

Harry ran on ahead, and he could hear Mr Black hot on his heels.

For a second, Harry allowed himself a tiny flicker of hope that they were actually going to get away.

Until the tunnels were suddenly filled with flashes of light, that is, and Harry's running slowed as he turned to glance over his shoulder, seeing Mr Black engaging a Death Eater who was advancing towards them at alarming speed – and not the only one, at that – purple light flashing back and forth between them and colliding and the tunnels almost seemed to s _hake_ around them with the force of it, and Harry stopped several paces back, turning fully and raising his wand to help.

"Don't stop running, Harry!"

"But –"

"Straight ahead. GO!"

Harry turned and ran for it; running deeper into the tunnels.

He had no idea where he was going. Just carried on running and running, until the lights and the sounds behind him faded and he was running in silence and darkness – he daren't light his wand - the only sound in the tunnels his thudding footsteps and his thudding heart in his ears and the gasps of his breaths.

* * *

Regulus burst through the floorboards of what he guessed – correctly – was the Research Centre, clambering up and out of the channels beneath them.

By some absolute _miracle_ he had managed to floor a few of his pursuers. Not many of them, mind, but enough to slow down those behind as they attempted to climb over the fallen. And he had managed to lose them, somewhat, for a minute before Regulus had then come to the fork in the road – four different ways in which Harry could have run, and he had told Harry to go straight, which would lead to the exit, but there was no telling if he got it, if he'd actually run that way – and it was surely better to split up, the two of them, then, and Regulus could draw the Death Eaters out of the ground and away from where the boy had run.

Even if he hadn't reached the courtyard, Harry could take cover in the tunnels until help came for them.

The Order would be here any minute, his patronus sent long enough ago, that Dumbledore would have surely received the message and given the orders to step in by now.

Regulus left the blown open floorboards – an obvious sign that he had left at that point – so that the Death Eaters would follow and hurried deeper into the Research Centre, flicking his wand and plunging the room into darkness.

But he wasn't alone for long.

A flash of yellow light was suddenly fired his way, lighting the darkness and the silence, and only just missing him, hitting the ground in front of him and blasting a crater in the floor that he had to dodge to avoid stumbling into it.

It made him lose momentum – and bloody balance – as he ducked, a flash of purple behind him and hitting the shelves to his side, before he was forced to turn; engaging the Death Eater on his heels – he recognised the details of the mask, it was Barty – and spells fired forth between them.

It seemed as if Barty were the only one at that moment.

But not for long.

Regulus could see others emerging and hurrying towards where they stood – one breaking off and taking a left – while Regulus mustered up all of his strength to blast back a spell that sent Barty stumbling backwards under the force of the collision between it and the shield charm, giving him the second he needed to dart right and take some cover as he ran.

Regulus carried on with the same tactic as before – blowing the bookshelves behind himself as a means of creating a distraction – and then he turned, abruptly, wand pointing at the fallen debris rather than his pursuers – there were three of them, which were less than what there _should_ be – uttering; _"Turbinis vasti!"_

When he did, the debris on the ground lifted and began to swirl around them, forcing their attention onto avoiding the blows, and the distraction allowed Regulus the chance to disable two of the three within the inflicted vortex with various impediments and stunning spells, flooring them, while the other stepped out and fired spell after spell – obviously not happy with Regulus beating them over the head with all of those books – with such ferocity that Regulus was forced to dive to take physical cover by the tables.

The lower number was alarming – there was only this one, now, and the elusive figure who had ventured off – evident that some remained in the tunnels and had continued to go after Harry. But Regulus forced himself to focus on the remaining one before him; he was no use to Harry dead, after all.

"Does itty bitty cousin want to play?"

The familiar voice spoke from behind and he spun around from where he was crouch on the floor – she would have gotten him if she hadn't wanted to taunt him a bit first – and he only just fired back as her first attempt fired towards him, before he rolled across the floor and jumped to his feet.

Regulus drew in a breath, hand tightening around his wand, knowing full well that there was no chance of family ties softening up Bellatrix, in the way that they had managed to with Narcissa a short while ago. If anything, the very fact that he _was_ family – and a traitor – would only make her attack more ferocious and she proved that within the first second; her first curse sent his way barely deflected and the force of the will behind the spell knocking him back when he met it with a counter of his own.

Bella was merciless, eyes glinting will the full force of manic hatred; another spell fired forth that he deflected, once more, and another and _another_ and he had to dodge it, physically, before another hit on the heels of it, all in such quick succession that he could barely muster up an attack of his own – forced into the defensive, from the start – and, even then, he barely got the shield charms up quick enough, and then an _'impedimenta'_ , that floored him, before a _'crucio'_ fired forth and, oh hell, she _got him._

Regulus had forgotten it – how could he _possibly_ – and the relentless, unyielding, sheer excruciation of the Unforgivable tore the scream from deep within his bloody guts, even if he was entirely unaware of sight or sound or _anything_ beyond the curse being cast upon him as he writhed on the ground, utterly at her mercy.

He felt his wand being torn from his hand – he was vaguely aware of the need to hold onto it, that to let go would be the end of him, but it was impossible under the intensity by which his cousin could inflict the Cruciatus – and he could faintly hear the screech of her manic laughter past the agony and over his wails.

And then the pain and the screams and the laughter abruptly stopped.

There was a thud; the sound of a body – Bellatrix – falling to the floor.

And then the only sound in the room was that of Regulus' heaving breaths as he lay there in a boneless heap and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

For barely a second, that was, before the sound of thudding boots on the floor approaching snapped him out of his trance and had Regulus grasping for traction against the wooden floor as he pushed himself upwards and scrambled backwards on his hands and his heels away from the approaching Death Eater until –

"What the hell are you doing here, Regulus?"

Regulus stopped in his backwards retreat, eyes closing, and he collapsed back onto the floor.

"Severus."

* * *

Harry hurried along the passageway, in an utter blind panic, knowing that the voices he could hear in the distance behind him did _not_ belong to Mr Black and he felt around the dirt walls, for anywhere he could hide, but they were perfectly formed and seemed to lead nowhere.

He didn't even know the Foundation had underground tunnels! Malachi had never mentioned as such but the distant voices behind him kept him scurrying on through, each step that he took losing any and all hope that Mr Black was still following.

He was alone.

They must have gotten Mr Black, somehow, there was no way he could have fought them all off by himself – there must have been a dozen of them that had invaded the office – and he felt a jolt of grief and of guilt when he realised it, that Mr Black was probably captured – he refused to think that he might be _dead_ – but those feelings were quickly overrun by fright when the voices were no longer only behind him but up ahead as well.

No. No. No.

They had him surrounded; closing in on him from both sides. Almost as if they _knew_ the tunnels and the way through and out.

Harry drew in a breath, feeling himself begin to panic even more, as he lifted his wand – figuring it was better to be _up there_ than cornered down here – and he spoke quietly as possible, not that the spell would be _quiet – "Confringo!" –_ and the top of the tunnel blew out.

Harry jumped, grasping the ledge created, and pulled himself up and out of the passage, crawling and collapsing in a heap in the room that he found himself.

It only took Harry a second to realise where he was.

It was the Lab.

Harry scrambled to his feet in the darkness, turning slowly where he stood, his eyes taking in the large, empty room before him. The very one that he had seen in his mind only an hour or so beforehand – entirely certain that his baby sister had been in this room – and Harry walked towards the spot that he had seen her.

The place was utterly deserted. Not a soul in sight nor any sign, even, of a disturbance. No chair in the spot where it should be, where Grace had been sitting in the middle of the floor.

It made no sense.

"Grace?"

Harry felt sick.

Harry had seen it.

He had _seen_ it. Just like he had seen everything else, all year.

He had the vague thought in his mind that he ought to be running – the Death Eaters behind him would have heard the explosion, they would be closing in – but he _couldn't_ just keep running, not when he knew, he _knew_ that his little sister was here somewhere. He couldn't just run and leave her behind.

And then, suddenly, Harry remembered the conversation he had had with Snape months ago, at the end of the summer; their first lesson together after the holidays. Snape had told him that Voldemort knew about the mind link; that he was occluding him – that he _could_ occlude him from anything he didn't want Harry to see – that if Harry _did_ see anything that it was because…

"… _no matter the content, you must assume it is an attempt to manipulate you. Do not respond to anything that you see…"_

Snape's warning from months before.

"Grace?" he called out, again, refusing to believe it. Refusing to believe he had been that stupid.

Grace was here, he knew she was.

Even if it had been a trap, even if Voldemort _had_ wanted him to see it – the vision – it still would have had to be _real._

"Grace, it's Harry!"

Utter silence greeted him.

And then, there was a snicker.

Harry turned, sharply, in the direction of it; the Death Eater who stepped out from the shadows at the back of the room.

Then another, from the other side.

"The Dark Lord always knows," one of the Death Eaters said, laughingly, to the other.

The other nodded in agreement, as they advanced upon him, and Harry gripped his wand tight – eyes darting around the room – searching for any sign of her, so he could grab her and run. But they'd obviously moved her, and Voldemort wasn't even here, so she must be with him.

"I want to know where my sister is."

His voice came out strained – belying the terror within him, as his chest constricted, making it difficult, even, to breathe – and he shook his head, while the Death Eaters he faced made low grumbles of laughter.

"I know you've got her."

"It is time you learned the difference –" a voice spoke from the doorway and when Harry turned, the Death Eater there was unmasked, and he recognised the face of Draco's father from the Prophet articles he and Malachi had read; "- between life and dreams, Mr Potter."

Harry swallowed, as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room; another Death Eater was on his heels. And another.

Which meant that Mr Black had fallen, for sure, if they were all now coming to the Lab. The Lab where, Harry realised, they had been trying to lure him to all along.

And if Grace wasn't here – if it had really been a lie, a fabrication that had somehow been sent to him through their minds – then Mr Black had died for nothing…

His scar burned, making him flinch, and he felt an excitement course through him; an excitement that he was sure was not his own. And it could only be one other person's, then, and Voldemort was obviously in there, in his head, and watching this in glee as his followers encroached upon him, ready to deliver Harry up to their Master.

Harry could feel each and every one of his hairs on end as he stood there completely surrounded; more Death Eaters beginning to filter into the room, this time from the gap in the floor that he had just emerged through, himself.

He'd played right into Voldemort's hands; Voldemort had lured him, him and Mr Black – believing him to be Grace's father – there, under the guise of kidnapping Grace and Harry had _fallen_ for it and they were both as good as dead – if not already - now.

The excitement that was not his own was totally at war with the terror that he felt, as he realised it, what had happened – what he had done – and his scar was on fire and –

"It was almost _too_ easy, Harry Potter."

The cold, high voice from his nightmares suddenly spoke up from behind him and Harry spun around.

Voldemort was here.

Grace wasn't there; but Voldemort was.

That white, drawn face, the red, slit-pupiled eyes boring into his and a slow, sinister smile on his lips as he regarded Harry where he stood – before him, utterly at his mercy.

"Where is Regulus?"

The question was not for him.

"We are still in pursuit of him, My Lord."

Harry felt a tinge of relief – a tiny one, considering his own circumstances right now – at the confirmation that Mr Black had evaded them, so far.

"Come for his precious child, did he, then, Potter?"

Harry's hands shook as he gripped his wand tight – not that it would help, he had no chance! – but he wouldn't just die without fighting.

"No need for you to be around to see it. And I quite have nothing more to say to you," Voldemort said, softly, as the scarlet eyes glinted dangerously.

Harry started to raise his wand – to the howls of laughter of those around him – when, suddenly, the doors on either side of the room burst open and the windows smashed, and people were flooding into the Lab and the room came alive with flashes of light and roars of incantations, and the circle that had been around upon him broke, as the Death Eaters were suddenly distracted by the appearance of the intruders.

A jet of green light – an almost desperate cry of ' _Avada Kedavra_ ' from Voldemort's lips – hurtling in his direction had Harry dive to the ground for cover.

There was Remus and Tonks and his mum and others and _more_ than those whom he recognised from the summer that had come for him then.

And it was obviously more than just the Order who had come, that night, but the Ministry's Aurors, too.

And Harry dodged and ducked, as a jet of purple light flew by him – not meant for him, maybe, but it came hurtling in his direction all the same – and he scrambled along the ground, taking cover from the ferocious spells being flung back and forth overhead.

He was suddenly seized by the collar, and a rough voice spoke in his ear as he was pinned to the ground; "You're not going anywhere, Potter."

Harry didn't recognise the voice, only the threat within it, and he was only glad it was not _Voldemort,_ and he felt the whoosh of a spell pass by inches from his head as he was yanked upwards.

Harry caught sight of Remus duelling one of them a few feet away, and another was fighting three at once, and Tonks was engaged with another and they were so fast, so ferocious with their spells that their movements were blurs. And none noticed that he had been caught and that Voldemort – who floored two opponents, almost concurrently, and with unbelievable ease with two jets of green, lethal light – was advancing upon him once more, lips drawn back in a snarl.

And Harry was sure this was the end, as he scuffled against the Death Eater who held him, in a vain attempt to free himself.

Though, suddenly, Voldemort froze, eyes going beyond him, and Harry turned his head to look and _Dumbledore_ was standing there in the doorway.

A spell was fired forth with almost laziness, slicing through the air faster than any Harry had ever seen, in Voldemort's direction and a physical shield was suddenly conjured up, the jet of light colliding with it in a blast of sparkling lights.

Harry kicked his legs back, fighting harder for freedom, when he felt the Death Eater who held him loosen his grip, ever so slightly, just as taken in by the sight of the beginnings of Voldemort and Dumbledore's duel – but it was just as futile as before.

Until, that is, his captor was suddenly struck by a bolt of orange light – the distractions of the duel and Harry's scuffling allowing it – and dropped to the ground.

"Harry!"

His mum had him by the arms, eyes looking over him, frantically.

"Mum!" Harry burst out, as his mum tugged him back down to take cover, just in time to dodge another spell whiz on by; "Mum, I think – I thought –"

Before he could say anything, before he could tell her that he had thought Grace was here – that she might, maybe, be there, despite his increasing doubts – the bench behind them exploded as a deflected spell hit it and his mum's arms were around him, pushing him down and sheltering him from the debris.

There was a thud – someone landing on the ground behind them - and then his mum's arms were gone and there was a flash of light and when he looked up his mum was deflecting a spell from the Death Eater who had come down upon them, their wands flashing as they duelled – his mum advancing towards the attacker, pushing him back and away from Harry, spell after spell firing forth until they were out of sight.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, keeping himself low as he attempted to run, to move, to get away from where the Death Eaters and Voldemort knew that he was. He caught sight of Voldemort and Dumbledore towards the back of the Lab, now, Dumbledore having pushed him back.

A long, thin flame hurtled from the tip of the Headmaster's wand, wrapping itself around Voldemort as it reached him before it transfigured into a thick, hissing serpent that released him and turned Dumbledore's way.

Harry hurried from the cover of the bench opposite, passing by Tonks and the Death Eater she was duelling, a burst of flame firing towards her that she deflected, sending it flying in Harry's direction and he threw himself up onto the nearest bench on his arms and knees to avoid it.

"Harry –" Remus had backed up, though he was still engaged in vicious combat with one of the Death Eaters as he spoke, quickly; "- you need to get out of –"

Remus was suddenly struck square on the chest with a jet of blue light and he flew backwards – he seemed to be flying on, forever – until he collided with the shelves at the entrance to the Lab and crumbled to the ground.

Harry's jaw dropped, as he stared at the limp form of his uncle on the ground.

He made to go to him, to run towards him, when a flash of green light whizzed on by, inches from his arm, hitting the bench beside him and making it burst into flames and he whipped around, catching sight of Voldemort's taunting smirk in Dumbledore's direction.

The two of them continued to engage one another – magic like Harry had never seen before as spell after spell fired back and forth – while casting out spells, almost carelessly, at stray Death Eaters and Order Members and Aurors, respectively, between engagement with one another and bringing them _down_ and Harry stared in horror at the litter of bodies – some who were surely lost forever – and had _he_ really been the one to have done this, to have fallen for this; to have drawn all these people into this bloodbath?

Harry stumbled towards Remus – keeping low and darting and dodging the spells that continued to fly through the air – who still hadn't risen, feeling stupid and then sick and then _numb,_ as he reached him and shook him; "Uncle Remus."

He was still breathing.

Maybe the others were, too.

Before Harry could do anything more, before the guilt could utterly cripple him, he was suddenly seized from behind, a hand clamping firmly over his mouth, and he was dragged, roughly, through the doorway from the room.

Harry fought and grabbled with the arm that was wrapped tight around him, trying to scream, trying to escape, trying to tell someone that he was gotten – that they had him – when he heard a familiar, furious voice in his ear.

"Enough."

Snape.

It was Snape.

Harry went almost limp in his arms, allowing Snape to drag him down the corridor, faster and faster, almost in a daze at what had happened, before they came to the exit and the door burst open, he and Snape stumbling out onto the grounds.

Snape released the bear hold he had upon him, then, but he kept a tight hold of his arm as they hurried up the grass – moving further and further away from the Lab – and Harry gasped out; "Grace. I thought…I thought he had Grace."

Snape's grip tightened; "She is safe."

"How do you know? How can you be sure?" Harry burst out.

"Because I know where she is and she's not here."

"We…we can't just leave everyone back there," Harry said, looking back in the direction of the Lab, of the Foundation – they were almost at the gates, now, where the boundaries of the anti-apparition charms ended – though he knew, logically, that there was nothing he or, even, Snape could do; "Remus and Mum and Mr Black, they're all in there –"

"You'd be hard-pressed to name anyone not within that build –"

There was a sudden, deafening _'BOOM'_ and the ground shook and the whole damn world seemed to reverberate around them and he and Snape were thrown to the ground, a blast of orange light washing over them and _blinding_ him and, then, utter silence.

Harry rolled over onto his back, looking back in the direction of the Foundation.

The whole West side of the building had cracks all up the side of it and the East – the side from which they had just run – and the _Lab –_ it teetered on the foundations before all of it slowly crumbled to rubble.

Snape stood, slowly, as if in a daze, jaw slackening at the sight as he took a step towards it.

Harry could only stare.

And then the reality of it hit; "MUM!"

Harry lunged forward to his feet, desperately, throwing himself in a sprint back towards the building – trying to – but he didn't get far before Snape's arms were suddenly tight around him, holding him back tight against his chest, as Harry cried out; "Mum!"

"Harry!"

"Mum!"

His cries were a mix of screams and of sobs and he scuffled, frantically with Snape, needing to go to her, to make sure she was alright. And his Uncle Remus. And Mr Black. And he sobbed, calling out for his mum and he felt Snape's grip tightening upon him, pinning him back against him and his voice in his ear but Harry didn't know or care what it was he was saying.

And then Snape's voice stopped talking and he straightened but he didn't let up his grip, still holding him tight, and then a cold, high voice spoke off to his side.

"Ah. Grief, Potter, is this? What a pity. Only you need have died this night."

Harry raised his eyes from the rubble in the distance to Voldemort, who now stood before them, eyes glinting, and he cast a satisfied smile in Snape's direction; "Excellent work, Severus."

Harry felt Snape's grip tighten, impossibly, further.

He vaguely wondered what Snape was going to do but he couldn't muster up the energy, the sentiment even to _care_ what happened to him, to either of them, now as the grief came over him and he tried to tell himself, futilely, that if Voldemort were standing here, if he had survived – and some others had, too, Harry could see figures trickling out from the building, from the rubble in the distance, too far for him to make out who any of them were though some began to flee from the grounds and he could see the swirl of Death Eater robes as they made their escape beyond the boundaries – he told himself that his mum could have too, and Remus and Malachi's dad.

"Don't worry, child; your grief shall end. You have been a thorn in my side long enough –" Voldemort lifted his wand.

But he turned, suddenly, with a snarl as a spell hurtled through the air towards him that he only just mustered up a physical shield in time to protect himself – striking it with a 'gong' that sounded out through the night.

" _Dumbledore."_

"It's over, Tom," Dumbledore stated, as figures began running in through the gates – more Aurors, Harry realised.

Voldemort's eyes glinted as he tilted his chin upwards, almost as if in a challenge, and then he lifted his arms – both of them – before flinging them downwards and there was a gust and a chill and then he was suddenly gone.

For a moment, Harry thought he had fled.

And then, suddenly, his scar burst open and he knew this was it; he was dead. He was dying; it was agony beyond imagination, beyond endurance, and he tried to scream, to cry out, but it was all in his mind and he could see and feel nothing past the excruciation of it, but he heard his own voice, a creature not himself forming the words;

" _Kill me now, Dumbledore…"_

Everything within him screamed for Dumbledore to do as it said; to kill him, to end this pain, this agony…

" _If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…"_

It didn't matter now, anyway. Not if his mum was gone. And Remus. He would be with them, then. Death was nothing compared to this; if it could only be over…

His heart filled with guilt and grief and longing and _love;_ and as it swelled within him the pain was suddenly gone, lifting from him.

It took a second for everything to come back to him; for him to come back to _himself._

There were voices and lights and Voldemort was gone, he realised, and Aurors were running on by them, onto the grounds, and he heard theirs voices - _'Did you see him actually fly?' -_ and he vaguely wondered how Voldemort had managed to evade them, to escape, but his mind was hazy and he knew that he was grieving for something, before the pain had come, and that everything was all _wrong._

Harry was still held tight back against Snape's chest and Dumbledore's face was inches from his own.

"Harry. Are you alright?"

Harry stared back at him, for a second, before his eyes went by him, in the direction of the fallen Foundation, to the Aurors who had come rounding up the stray Death Eaters who had survived but hadn't yet fled, to the others, the Order members, and Harry could see that his mum wasn't among them, that she was still inside.

Harry could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

But then, no, that wasn't _his_ heart he was hearing.

It was Snape's, where Harry was pressed back against him.

This was it.

This was the beginning of the long-promised war.

And Harry was quite sure that he, that none of them, were ever going to be quite alright ever again.

* * *

Severus paced the floor of Dumbledore's office, trying in vain to get it together.

It would do no one any good for him to lose grip, now, and fall apart.

He had waited at the Foundation – what was left of it – along with Dumbledore and Harry, as the wounded were rolled out by the first responders; had watched, heart in his throat and his chest constricting, as Regulus was brought by and, then, not long after, Lily.

Neither had looked good.

No.

That was putting it mildly.

They looked as good as _dead_ and if it hadn't been for Harry's immediate, utterly distraught response at the sight of his mother's beaten and broken body being carefully removed from the rubble, he was sure everything of what he felt in that moment – not at all unlike the wails of her son – would have been entirely evident, written all over his face, and Dumbledore had implored him to come back to the Castle, to wait here, while he learned the details of their condition.

That had been almost five hours ago.

The door to the Headmaster's office swung open and Dumbledore walked, slowly, into the room, seeming to wear every one of his years on his face in that moment as he cast Severus a look – a look of alarming empathy – and passed by him to sit behind his desk.

"Well?" Severus didn't beat around the bush. He wasn't waiting. Screw propriety or politeness; he needed to know, _now_.

"At the moment, Regulus remains unconscious," the Headmaster began, indicating that Severus take the seat opposite and he did, right on the edge of it; "Though the Healers are confident that their treatment of his injuries were done in a timely enough manner, that they are no longer life threatening. They expect that he should regain consciousness within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

Severus nodded, slowly, at the welcome news, but his eyes remained on Dumbledore's; asking about another for whom he had to know about.

Dumbledore's voice softened, as he went on; "The same cannot be said for Mrs Potter –"

Severus released a harsh breath, getting to his feet and turning away from him.

He pressed his palm to his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut, as Dumbledore went on and he tried, desperately, to listen, to take in what it was he was telling him.

"As yet, the Healers continue to treat the injuries sustained. But they are substantial enough, that her condition is expected to remain critical, once their efforts conclude."

"There must be something else," Severus said, eyes closed and his back still to him; "Something more that they can do."

"They are doing everything possible –"

Severus rounded on him with a snarl; "Evidently not!"

And when he did, oh hell, there was such tenderness and compassion, such bloody _sympathy,_ in the old man's eyes that Severus wanted to draw out his wand and hex him, then and there, for _daring_ to come to him with news such as this.

It couldn't be true.

It couldn't be.

Severus turned away, once more – he couldn't bear to look into Dumbledore's, into _anyone's_ eyes any longer – and he tried, futilely, to get himself in check; to get a hold of his breathing that was coming out in rapid gasps, and his bloody hands that were shaking, as he braced himself with one of them against the beams in the middle of the office.

"Harry is taking it particularly hard, as you can imagine."

Severus closed his eyes.

"He refuses to leave her side, on the occasions that it is possible for him to be with her. At the moment, with the school year in session, his care remains under the responsibility of Hogwarts."

Severus tensed – further than he already was – turning only his head from where he stood to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

The Headmaster nodded, slowly – that same damn compassion in his eyes when he did – and told him; "Harry's younger sister, however, has been taken into the care of the Wizarding Authorities for the time being. As her brother is not of age, they refuse to grant the release of her to him. And to anyone else, not considered family."

Severus turned away, leaning his forehead against the back of the hand that was braced against the beams, eyes squeezed shut, as his stomach churned, and he felt utterly _sick_ with it all and he released a sound, so soft, so quiet, that was not quite human, but it was reflective of everything that he couldn't quite hold back, and he was certain that the Headmaster heard it.

He could hear no more of this and keep himself together.

He would surely fall apart if Dumbledore said another word.

Severus drew back, straightening up, and he noticed his hands were shaking as he did, and he drew in another breath, making to speak, but it came out as silence, for what could he possibly _say_ and what could he possibly _do_ but break.

But he would not do that _here,_ not with Dumbledore and his ever-increasing pitying eyes upon him, and he tried for a stride – but it was more of a stumble – down the stairs and he uttered an almost inaudible ' _excuse me'_ – his voice a hoarse, broken whisper that revealed it all – as he walked, briskly, from the room.

* * *

He could hear voices.

They sounded far away, and he felt light, lighter than air, the world spinning, and when he squinted, it was all so bright, so bloody _blinding,_ that he flinched but then they focused, slightly, and he could see the blurred forms of, who he recognised to be, Julia and Malachi, at the foot of the bed, their voices soft and he couldn't quite make sense of them.

Julia's was speaking to him, to his boy, gently; "Harry…wondered…something to eat?"

Malachi's voice was quiet, a grief-stricken whisper; "No."

"…maybe talk…he's just outside."

"No."

Regulus blinked.

They were gone.

Some time must have passed. The curtains were drawn, this time.

But the world was still so bright, so blinding, and his eyes flickered throughout the room, not moving his head or his body or anything but his eyes, and then he felt the mattress beside him dip and Julia was sitting down beside him, her gaze smilingly upon him; "Welcome back."

Regulus gave a weak smile.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," he said, his voice rough and his throat dry, and Julia _'accioed'_ a glass and a pitcher, pouring him a glass of water that she held to his lips.

He lapped it up – the water and the nursing – and when he was done, she put the items upon the bed stand at his side, lifting her wand and muttering something under her breath as she waved it over him.

"Malachi?"

Julia met his eyes, her serious expression becoming a small smile, and she turned to look to her left – and he followed her gaze – to where Malachi was curled up asleep on a chair nearby.

Regulus' heart swelled at the sight of him. Of the both of them; here, with him, in the same room.

Julia's expression had become serious again, as her wand was waved above him, doing various checks and rituals; "Is there pain?"

"Right through the heart, Miss Bradbury; Cupid's arrow got me good."

Julia shot him a look; "Any _other_ shooting pains? Your chest, your ribs? There was a significant impact upon –"

"Merlin, you're sexy when you're in Healer mode," Regulus flashed her a wide grin.

Julia fought a smile, rubbing her fingertips against her forehead; "Regulus."

"Don't I even get a kiss to welcome me back to the land of the living?"

Julia smiled, then. She didn't kiss him, no, but her hand found his where it lay upon the bed, entwining their fingers amongst the folds of the sheets, and he squeezed, affectionately.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days."

"How bad is it?"

"Do you remember anything that happened?"

He shook his head, no, not much of anything after he'd hastily related the details of the disastrous turn of events to Severus when he'd saved his skin from Bellatrix.

"You're going to be fine. When the building collapsed –"

"I meant out there," Regulus interrupted; "The casualties. Did anyone… _who_ died?"

"Three Aurors, an Order member – Hestia Jones – " Regulus closed his eyes, nodding, knowing her; "No Death Eaters, though some were rounded up to Azkaban. The casualties, though, there were a lot of them. The vast majority of the people there that night ended up in here; some got away pretty soon. Others…"

Regulus lifted his chin, looking at her carefully, when he sensed the slight change in tone before her statement teetered off; "Julia?"

She drew in a breath, meeting his eyes; "Lily."

Regulus released a slow breath; "How bad is it?"

"It's bad, Regulus. Even now, her condition's critical. The Healers assigned to her finally managed to get her stabilised last night, but she hasn't regained consciousness since they brought her in. Some admitted that they don't expect that there'll be a change –" she broke off, voice wavering, and he took her hand, fully, squeezing it tight and, hell, what must Severus be thinking and going through, right now.

Regulus knew it well, that grief. That loss.

He shook himself, internally - it wasn't as if Lily was actually dead, he reminded himself – before he asked; "Will she… _is_ there a chance that she'll pull through?"

Julia met his eyes. She didn't look as if it were hopeless, no, but she didn't look entirely convinced that Lily would make it, either.

Regulus closed his eyes. His heart going out to them. To Severus. To Harry and to Grace.

He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, before a quiet, groggy voice spoke from the chair.

"Dad?"

Regulus pushed down the heaviness that had arisen with his and Julia's conversation, and it was easy to smile when his eyes met that of his boy – particularly when they widened in relief and utter joy at the sight of him awake – and he raised an eyebrow; "Hey, Beansprout."

Julia stood, as Malachi hurried over; "Dad."

His voice was filled with emotion, wavering as he sat down on the bed and – ever so gently – wrapped his arms around him.

Regulus embraced him in turn, even if the movement and the weight of his son when he pulled him down further made him wince at the unexpected – though it _shouldn't_ be unexpected after having a building fall down on him, he supposed – pain.

Malachi's voice was a whisper near Regulus' ear when he spoke; "I'm so glad you're still here."

Regulus pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Me too, Son."

* * *

The door to Mr Black's room in St Mungo's was open and he could see Malachi speaking animatedly with his dad - who looked _awful_ lying beneath the covers on the bed, though he was putting on a good show of a smile and a laugh – but Harry still knocked.

Both of them turned his way.

Mr Black smiled.

Malachi didn't.

Malachi pushed off from where he was sitting on the bed, heading over to him where he stood at the door, as Mr Black spoke to him, his voice weak but jovial when he did; "Good morning, Harry."

"Hi, Mr Black," Harry smiled, both relieved and uneasy with guilt at the sight of him; "I…I'm glad to see you're awake."

"He just woke up this morning," Malachi stated, standoffishly, as he reached him; "The Healers don't want him getting over-excited; he needs to rest."

Mr Black shot Harry a cheeky grin, rolling his eyes at Malachi's fussing, and Harry tried to smile back but he didn't blame Malachi for it, considering how weak and beaten up the man appeared to be.

"We'll just be a minute, Dad," Malachi said, his tone softer when he spoke to him, and Mr Black responded with a ' _take your time, Son',_ that was only just heard before Malachi pulled the door shut behind him.

Neither of them said anything for a second.

Malachi didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

Malachi crossed his arms across his chest, still not looking at him.

"I'm sorry!" Harry repeated himself, more desperately this time; "I didn't think…I didn't know…I wouldn't have…"

Malachi shook his head, finally meeting Harry's eyes, and he almost shrunk back at the look of betrayal in his friend's expression when he did. But, still, Malachi didn't say anything; offering him neither censure nor forgiveness.

"It was about Grace," Harry explained, hoping he was listening, at least; "I saw Grace, in my head, he made me see her. I thought she was in trouble, I thought she needed me! I had to do something. I had to –"

"I get it, Harry," Malachi interrupted him, sharply, looking at him, squarely now; "I do. But that was my dad."

"I…I know. I didn't mean for him to get hurt –"

"How could you think he wouldn't get hurt?" Malachi looked at him, incredulously; "I thought he was gonna die!"

Harry swallowed, looking back at him, his guilt swelling within him.

Malachi looked away for a second, drawing in a breath that wavered as he did. And then he looked back at Harry, and there was a distance that had never been there between them before when he did.

"Next time you wanna forge a two-man army against the people who want to skin him alive –" he shook his head; "- don't go to my dad. Go to one of your _own_ parents. Go to your mum, or to Professor Lupin or to Severus. Go to one of them, just leave my dad alone."

Harry could only stare back at him, no words coming at all.

But he wouldn't have been able to say them, even if they had, for Malachi simply turned away – nothing left to say to him, either, now that he'd said that – and he pushed open the door to his dad's room and went back inside.

Closing the door behind him, this time, as he did.

* * *

Harry sat in the chair of his mum's room, staring at her almost-lifeless form where she lay on the bed.

She won't die.

She won't die.

He kept repeating it to himself, over and over – because it was utterly impossible that she _could_ – and he swallowed the rising lump in his throat, as the minutes, the days ticked by, with no change, no indication that she was going to wake up. And he was growing tired of seeing the Healers – whom he had been so desperate and eager to see working on her, before – coming into the room, doing their checks upon her, hearing the soft tuts, seeing the sympathetic looks they cast his way when they thought he wasn't looking.

It didn't mean anything, he told himself.

His mum was going to be fine.

She _had_ to be.

The door to the room clicked open and, then, shut.

Harry figured it was time for another look over.

But when he – reluctantly – lifted his eyes from his mum to the person who had entered, it wasn't a Healer who was standing there, no.

It was Snape.

Harry looked at him where he stood.

It shouldn't be a surprise to see him there. Obviously, the man would come.

But, then, maybe not. Because Harry _was_ surprised. And it was surely a risk, wasn't it, for him to be there; but, then, Harry couldn't muster up the energy or the will to care if it was and if he felt like that, then surely Snape must feel the same way, too.

For a minute, Snape didn't even acknowledge him. He simply stood there, staring at his mum, with an expression entirely unreadable. Even now, when his mum – the woman he loved – was lying there, like that, Snape didn't let Harry see it; whatever it was that was going on inside.

It didn't take much to guess, Harry supposed.

And then Snape drew in a breath, taking a step towards the bed, but rather than going to her – as Harry expected – the man took a seat upon the bottom of it, facing Harry instead.

Looking into the man's eyes, then, at the guarded concern that he offered him, it was impossible for Harry not to feel it. For him not to feel _everything_.

"Guess you were right about that whole grief thing, huh?"

Snape's chin lifted ever so slightly at the attempt at snark.

Harry lowered his eyes, not feeling the sass at all above everything else – or anything else – that was almost crippling him, right now; "Most things."

Snape still said nothing. Stoic as ever. Just sitting there, as if inviting Harry to talk – finally – but Harry didn't know what to say. There was nothing _to_ say, nothing to defend or excuse it, what had happened that night.

"This is my fault."

"No," the man finally said; "It's not."

Harry didn't understand why Snape wasn't angry with him. He'd been furious at him for far less.

"You told me this would happen," Harry went on, as if begging for a lecture, for a bawling – for _something_ to be normal, and familiar, from the way that things were before; "You told me he'd use it, that he'd try to manipulate me with it. And then he did, and I did exactly what he wanted. I totally fell for it!"

"Of course, you fell for it, Potter. He preyed upon your darkest fears, the person you cared for most. That is what he does. He finds our weaknesses, he exploits them."

"You told me that, too. That he'd use the people we loved."

"And so, he will. There is nothing too far above or beneath him; there is nothing that he would not do."

"Mr Black almost died!" Harry burst out, the excuses that Snape was offering up on his behalf only increasing his guilt tenfold – he didn't need understanding, he needed a damn walloping for this! – and he shook his head, pushing on, trying to provoke it. He knew how much he cared about Mr Black, too; "I took him into a bloody death trap and then the Order had to come and save us and then they started dying, too! Uncle Remus, he only just made it. And, Mum…How can we even win against someone like that?"

"We will."

Snape didn't break. He was as silent and still as ever. And, looking at him, now, Harry finally saw it for what it was – a strength that he couldn't even begin to imagine having, himself – as the man sat there, inches from the – oh, hell, maybe _dying –_ woman that he loved, that he had remained true to through all of this crap, trying to offer comfort to her son, while asking for none of it back for himself.

Harry lowered his eyes, so he didn't have to look into the understanding that was in those black ones staring back at him.

Even if Harry could accept it, could let him offer it, he wasn't the one who Harry needed forgiveness from, here.

His voice was a murmur, filled with all of the regret and vulnerability he daren't let show to the man ever since he'd found out all of this; who he really was to them.

"I was so awful to her," Harry bit down on his lip, when his voice wavered, willing for even a smidgen of the strength that Snape had in that moment; "What…what if those are the last things I ever get to say to her? What if she's gone –"

"She's not gone."

"What if we lose her –"

"That will not happen."

"Look at her!" Harry snapped, lifting his head finally to look at him.

Snape didn't. He kept his eyes firmly on Harry's when he answered him. Voice full of determination, of _belief_ in the truth of it when he repeated;

"It will not happen."

Harry swallowed, looking back at him, and wishing, with everything within him, that it _were_ true; that sheer will and wishing could make it so.

"The Wizarding Authorities took Grace."

Snape was the one who looked away that time. Grace was not only Harry's greatest weakness.

Harry shook his head, a lump rising in his throat and his eyes filling as he thought on it; how afraid his baby sister must be, right now. Knowing nothing. Knowing no one. Just waiting and hoping that someone she knew and loved would come for her.

"I went there because I thought Grace needed me and, now, they've taken her away. They won't let her come home. They were talking about placing her somewhere, somewhere that you know she won't be safe – not while _he's_ out there – and then they were saying something about mum having a sister –" Snape looked at him, sharply; "- and how she was the only family she had left and we've never even _met_ her. _We're_ her family. They can't take her away from us. They can't make her live with strangers."

Snape shook his head, slowly.

"No. They can't."

Harry stared back at him, at the unspoken promise there. That Snape would handle this. That he would do something.

And, then, Snape got to his feet. But he didn't move for a second, didn't make to leave the room. And then he turned, taking a few steps further up the side of the bed, his eyes going to his mum's face.

He didn't look quite so strong now.

He looked almost…broken, as he looked down at her. He lifted a hand, as if reaching out, to touch her, but it curled before it got far. A loose fist that shook, ever so slightly, where it was suspended in the air. And then Snape turned away, as if he could look at her no longer.

But, as he passed, the hand that he had been unable to reach out to her with, touched Harry upon the shoulder. A brief but firm grasp - even if Snape didn't stop in his steps - as if he could find or offer comfort to him, instead, before he strode from the room.

* * *

A knock at the door had Remus lifting his head from the book that he was reading, where he was lying in his hospital bed in St Mungo's.

"Yes?"

The door opened.

Of all the people who might come to his bedside – he'd had several most welcome visits from Nymphadora Tonks each of the four days that he had been in here – Severus Snape was _not_ one Remus would have bet even a knut upon.

Remus lowered his book.

Snape didn't wait for an invitation to come in – he just did – pushing the door shut behind him as he walked up the few steps and took a seat in the chair next to his bedside.

"Is it Lily?" Remus asked, with rising concern – for there was surely only one reason why Snape, of all people, should be here – and shook his head; "She's not –"

"There has been no change."

Snape's voice was clipped and to the point, offering nothing at all as to indicate the reason for this surprise visit.

The two of them just sat there, in silence, the awkwardness of which increasing enormously as the seconds ticked on – even if he had only been there for less than a minute – and Remus finally drew in a breath.

"Is there something I can do for you, Severus?"

Snape met his eyes.

It was perfectly obvious that Snape would rather be anywhere but here right now; that he would rather eat his own boot than say to him whatever it was he had come here to say.

"The Wizarding Authorities are holding Grace in custody."

"So, I've heard," Remus stated, guardedly; "Harry told me as much. Seems rather an extreme measure, no? Most fathers would have made it a priority to go and get their daughters, even in the wake of disasters such as these."

Snape glowered at him; "I am not registered as her father. I can't."

Remus lifted his chin, realisation coming over and suitably cowing him – diminishing his previous, less-than-flattering assumptions about the matter – as he said; "Oh."

Snape didn't look triumphant or gleeful at all by Remus' defeat. Rather, it was defeat of his own he was offering up in his expression, when he finally got to it.

"As her Godfather, they would release her to you."

Remus nodded, slowly; "Of course. I'll bring her to you."

Snape shook his head, averting his eyes.

"Or is that not the plan?"

Snape met Remus' eyes.

There was a vulnerability there that Remus hadn't expected.

"You have seen what the Dark Lord is willing to do. There is no low to which he would not stoop."

Remus crossed his arms, leaning back against the pillows.

"He has been interested in Grace for some time. He has – for the time being, particularly considering recent events – settled on the belief that she is the daughter of Regulus. An assumption that cannot go on."

Remus only looked back at him, as the realisation – the shocking, startling realisation of what, exactly, it was Snape was asking of him here – became clear.

"I have to bring her to the Castle. It is the only place that she will be safe. The Services are speaking as if they mean to send her to Lily's sister; a gross misjudgment, for reasons even beyond the very fact that there is no way that she would be safe there. The Dark Lord would come for her, no resistance whatsoever, he is probably already waiting for it."

"What about you, Severus?"

"I cannot have her with me. To do so would make her no more safe, than it would be if she were considered Regulus', only if the truth were to come out – which it would, she is far too young to be able to keep this quiet and too old for her stories to be passed off as childish imaginations – then I would no longer be in place to offer the necessary information that could, very well, diminish the damages of this war. You saw it yourself, only days ago, why I need to be where I am."

Remus nodded, albeit with reluctance, as it was not only Harry who was beginning to understand the value, now, of having Snape by Voldemort's side.

"You want to bring her to the Castle, Severus," Remus pointed out; "Even if I took her, what do you expect me to do? You'll be there too, for her to see and recognise at every possible turn. Do you expect me to keep her locked up in my chambers, a prisoner?"

"No. I think you are very aware of the fact as to what we would have to do."

Remus sat up, straighter, as the magnitude of what Severus' was proposing became clearer. For a minute, the two of them just stared at one another. Snape utterly serious, utterly resolved in what it was he was suggesting, while Remus was entirely _floored._

"You want to…you would do that?"

It wasn't accusatory. It was, almost, admiration. Remus wasn't young and foolish enough, to not understand that this would be a sacrifice. That Severus was telling him that he would do this; that he would give up his daughter, forever, all that he had and loved of her, if it would only mean she were safe.

"I have turned it over, all the possible scenarios. There is no other way. Even if we were to allow the Authorities to place her, at random, in the hopes that she would go undiscovered, become randomised by the system – even if it worked – she would be among strangers. She would be – " Snape faltered, averting his eyes, and there was vulnerability there now, Remus could see it, even if the man did not meet his eyes when he went on; "- frightened and alone. At the Castle she would have her brother. She would have…others. Better she lose only one, rather than all."

Remus released a breath, leaning back on the pillows, knowing that it was true. That everything Severus was proposing was the only option; the only thing that made sense, now. Now that Lily…

"What about Lily? What would she think about it?"

"It is something we have already discussed. Extensively, in the past. It is not an 'obliviation'. Orion – an almost forgotten project, following the first attack on the Foundation – grants the user with the power to restore memories. It's counter – not widely known, as it's creation was only undergoing trials at that point – grants them with the ability to suppress them."

Remus tilted his head; "So, you could suppress her memories of you."

"And return them, at a later date, when it becomes safe to do so."

"I see. It sounds rather elusive, as if you are the only one who knows how to restore them."

"That is likely the case. The other would be a Healer Eugene Hopkins whom, for obvious reasons, I would rather not be involved."

"And what if you don't make it, Severus?" Remus asked, bluntly; "She'd lose it all of you."

"If I were dead, would it matter?"

Remus shot him a look.

Severus nodded, getting a wry smile and looking away; "Yes. It was…a thorn, shall we say, of Lily's. How her son could never quite grasp that connection with his father."

Remus was startled at the unexpected mention of James.

"You must have wondered _why_ I remained with them so long."

Remus lifted his shoulders; "I assumed that the three of you were a family. That you saw yourselves as such. And were unwilling to make a choice to either have it or give it up."

"We always knew we would have to give it up. With the intention in place that we would take those memories from her, Lily considered it the best of both worlds. Grace, so long as her stories could be dismissed as those of dreams – which _your_ very suggestion allowed – would be able to form an attachment to her father, a bond that Harry was not able to form with his own, which would eliminate those difficulties, later on for her, if her father were to return. She called it a mistake of hers, that she did not allow Harry the same opportunity to know Potter."

"It wasn't exactly the same thing."

"What she was asking of them both would be. If either were to return into their lives, after a substantial period of time, without knowing them. Expecting a bond."

"And if you don't return to her life? Those memories would still offer comfort. Something precious, no doubt; you saw it yourself, when you gave them to Harry."

"I could advise you of the procedure, if you feel so strongly about it. So that you could restore them, if I were to meet my demise."

"And if I were to meet my own, also?"

Severus smirked; "I highly doubt the deities should see it fit that _both_ of us should not survive this war."

Remus drew in a breath. The course of action clear, obvious, unavoidable.

"I know this is no ordinary request," Severus went on – very, very reluctantly, Remus could tell, as his eyes were everywhere but on his as he said it – shifting in the chair; "- and it would not be without…gratitude, that you would be expected to undertake it."

Remus released a breath, an almost laugh, at Severus' way with words. His continuing refusal to say please, or thank you, and Severus met his eyes.

After a second, Remus nodded; "Of course, Severus."

Severus held his look. Even if the man wouldn't speak it, the thanks, the gratitude that he had just implied, was right there, in his eyes.

And then he nodded, getting to his feet and heading, briskly, to the door.

"Severus. The procedure," Remus reminded him; "I am not familiar with it."

Severus stopped where he stood, back to Remus, facing the door.

"I will do it," Severus didn't turn around; "Your chambers at the Castle. Tomorrow night."

* * *

Severus drew on every morsel of strength, of resilience that he could muster, as he knocked on the door to Remus Lupin's chambers.

It had been months – _months_ – since he had seen his daughter. Since he had looked into those bright, adoring eyes of hers. She was the only person who ever, truly, looked at him that way; entirely unaware of who he was and what he had done and what a pitiful, wretched being she had for a father.

The door drew open, immediately, and Lupin stood there.

There was sympathy in his eyes. An understanding that had never been there before.

But Severus wasn't there for Remus Lupin's understanding.

He was there for only one person.

Severus stepped across the threshold, into the chambers, and his eyes were all for his daughter.

Grace was sitting in front of the mantle – playing and giggling, happily, with a doll, one that _he_ had given to her, the year before – entirely unaware of all the darkness, all the gloom that surrounded her.

He forced any and all dark thoughts away. His daughter deserved him, all of him, even if just for a little while, without all of that weighing down upon them. He could offer her that much, at least.

"Grace."

Grace looked up sharply from where she sat on the floor, recognising his voice instantly.

Her eyes widened; a bright, delighted smile spreading upon her face as she took him in, where he was standing there, in front of her.

"Daddy!"

She was on her feet and running to him in an instant and he scooped her up, holding her close.

"Daddy!" she laughed, hugging him tight before drawing back, to look at him, a little hand touching his cheek as she declared, triumphantly; "I knew you'd come back!"

Despite the heaviness in his heart, Severus smiled.

Grace, she could always do that; tear it out of him, the little bit of happiness, of joy than lingered there, in the depths of him.

"I know you did."

"Can you stay?"

"For a little while."

"Uncle Remus said I get to stay with him now, here, at the Castle. Harry's here too, you know! And Malachi. I'll get to see them, now, every day!"

"So you will."

"But Mummy went away."

Severus swallowed, nodding; "Yes."

"Will she be gone for a long time? Like you?"

"Hopefully not as long as that."

Grace's eyes lowered, almost sadly, but then she met his eyes with another smile – as if it were _normal_ to her now, to be left behind, and it struck him, hard, that she should ever consider such to be normal.

Severus pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Did you come to read to me, goodnight?"

"I did."

Grace wrapped her arms around Severus' neck, once more, hugging him tight, and said to Lupin – a smile in her voice when she did – "Goodnight, Uncle Remus!"

"Goodnight."

Severus glanced at Lupin over his shoulder and the man indicated with a nod in the direction of the single bedroom – he supposed Lupin had opted for the living area, until his request for a double chamber was granted – and he headed on through.

Severus basked in it.

In the smiles and the chatter and the giggles of his daughter, as they sat upon the unfamiliar bed, Grace tucked up tight against him as he read through the first book. And then another. And another. Giving in to every request of hers for 'just one more' not caring that he was spoiling her, that she was pushing boundaries, walking all over him and that he was letting her do so, in a way he had never done so, before.

She wouldn't remember any of this, anyway.

They carried on, it seemed, long into the night – but, even then, it didn't seem long enough – until Grace could keep her eyes open no longer, and she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

It came to him, then.

The grief. The utter devastation of what had happened that appalling night some days before and he held her tight, finding rare comfort there, even as she slept, entirely unaware of his anguish – as it should be – and he felt a tear, maybe more, slip down his cheeks and into the soft, red hair of his little girl.

His voice was a whisper, as he pressed a final kiss to the side of his sleeping daughter's head; "Goodnight, Grace."

And then he lifted his wand, touching the tip to her temple, speaking the incantation.

Suppressing the memories – those memories of utter gold – for now, until, it seemed, forever. Even if he tried to tell himself it were not so. That they would pull through this. That he _would_ hold his daughter, again.

And then he drew away. One long, last look at her sleeping face, before he slipped from the room.


	62. March 1995: Black and White

There was a strange sort-of emptiness within Harry, as he went about his days at Hogwarts in the weeks that followed the incident at New Year.

He only saw Malachi a couple of times, from a distance, and neither had yet crossed the divide that had opened up between them in the aftermath. That, alone, would have shaken him enough in the past but, of course, that wasn't the worst of it.

No, the worst of it, was that his mum was still laid up in a hospital bed in St Mungo's and, while he was granted allowance to go and see her whenever he wanted, he couldn't help but be reminded whenever he did of what had happened to his dad, before her, and how horribly familiar all of this was and what the eventual outcome of his dad's circumstances had been.

Harry did his best to push such thoughts away.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Snape was invested enough and – urgh – brilliant enough that he would, surely, be able to find something, anything of a solution and bring her back to them. He was certainly confident enough of that during the encounters they had had with one another in the weeks that followed but, mostly, the two of them didn't really talk about anything.

It was almost… _polite,_ for lack of better word, with Snape encouraging him to focus only upon keeping his mind closed during their occlumency lessons – no time for any other discussion – which was beyond frustrating, as Harry had plenty of things to say, right now, if not about his mum, then at least as to what was going on with Grace, or with them – all of them – which really, all seemed incredibly trivial in light of the fact the war was now in full swing.

Nonetheless, Harry's mind continued to dwell on it. Over and over again in his mind, all that had happened and what was said and done in the lead up to New Year, twisted and turned, and, now that he wasn't so very angry about it all, he needed to talk to _someone_ about it and, well, there was really only one person that he could.

"I assure you, there is no doubt in my mind that Professor Snape loves your mother very much."

Harry wasn't really sure what he expected Remus to say, when he had dropped on by his office after class, but _that_ didn't even come close.

There was so little he knew about Remus and Snape, just a little bit of history. But he knew enough to know that they didn't like one another, even now. For obvious reasons, Harry supposed, now that he knew – he hoped – everything that had been going on in the background while he and Grace had been growing up.

"What about my dad?"

It was strange, how different his dad and Snape were to one another; how his mum could love both of them.

Well. They were both arseholes, Harry supposed.

Remus smiled, as if hearing his thoughts; "She loved him, Harry, don't ever question that. But we lost your dad a long time ago. And, while the idea of remaining devoted to another even after losing them is a romantic notion, in theory, such a life is a lonely one. And that is not a fate which I would wish upon anyone. Least of all your mum."

"But why him? Why Snape?" Harry asked, genuinely bewildered, for knowing and, even, _understanding_ Snape's position in the war; "It's not exactly the best chance Mum had of being happy, right?"

"The heart wants what it wants."

Harry rolled his eyes; "How could anyone want _him_?"

"He may not be the doting, larger than life character you are used to when it comes to father-figures – Sirius certainly raised the bar in that regard – but he does have his moments. He adores your sister, I've had the privilege of seeing that, and I'm quite certain he would do most anything to keep you safe, also."

"Because of my mum."

"Would you rather it was because of attachment to you?"

Harry frowned, suddenly feeling caught out. For what reason, he didn't really know.

"What? No," Harry denied it, because it made no sense for him to think the alternative; "No, of course not. I wouldn't care… _I_ don't want him!"

"Your mother does, though," Remus said, and the way he did so made it clear to Harry that, actually, Remus' thoughts on the matter probably were more along the wavelength of _his_ than they were of that of his mum's. Still, he didn't say that, instead going on; "And she has built a life, there, with the hope for a future that most definitely includes you. And I believe it is that hope that gives them the strength they need to keep fighting; what they have had to do can't have been easy for either of them. But yet they go on. Which says a great deal about the depth of your mum's feelings; that she has stayed for so long. Particularly considering your mum could have had any other man that she wanted."

"Any man including you?"

"Ha. You cheeky little sod."

Remus laughed and so did Harry, and Remus didn't seem either offended or bothered by the suggestion, even if it was something that actually seemed pretty possible, and not just by Harry, going by how quickly everyone swallowed the ruse that Grace was his.

"You never wanted to?" Harry pressed.

"Oh, you're Uncle Sirius would have had my head for even _thinking_ it."

Harry frowned, wondering what at all Sirius had to do with it, and he wondered if maybe Remus did, or _had,_ wanted to go somewhere with his mum – somewhere better than where Snape had taken them, anyway – and Harry thought he'd much prefer _that_ somewhere, than this reality. Odd, now, considering how horrified he had been by the notion that he could have been Grace's father just the year before.

"Maybe you shouldn't always be worrying about what other people think."

"Hm. Yes. And that, right there, Harry, is the rub of it all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Harry. You mum has always wanted a man who will stand up."

Harry frowned. His Uncle Remus couldn't really think he was a lesser man than his father, or than _Snape,_ surely.

"You stand with them too, Uncle Remus," Harry said, more sincerely than ever; "You're the best man I know."

Remus gave him a warm smile, clearly touched by the assertion; "Thank you, Harry. Thank you."

"Well. It's me that should be thanking you," Harry said, wanting to make him see how much he _did_ appreciate him, and all that he had done – especially in light of how he had treated Remus after what had happened last year – and he elaborated; "I mean, for everything, obviously. But especially for Grace. If you hadn't –"

"Harry," Remus interrupted him, shaking his head; "You don't have to thank me for that."

Harry hesitated, wondering why he _shouldn't_ be grateful that he had taken Grace in and brought her here. But then, it only took a second for him to realise why, and then he smiled and nodded; "Right."

Harry stepped around his desk, giving Remus a hug where he sat, even if he was getting a bit too old for this, and Remus chuckled, hugging him in turn.

"I'll come by your chambers after dinner," Harry said, as he stepped back and slung his school bag over his shoulder; "No practice tonight so I can take care of Grace if you want."

"No need, spend the evening with your friends."

Harry's smiled faltered, but he pushed away any thoughts of Malachi; "I'll spend it with both of you, then."

Remus opened his mouth to speak, as Harry headed to leave, but before he did there was a knock and the door to the office sprung open.

"Tonks."

Remus was suddenly on his feet, where he was behind his desk.

Nymphadora Tonks – Malachi's cousin – smiled at his uncle; "Hi Remus," her eyes turned to Harry; "Hey, Harry."

"Hi," Harry smiled, politely, glancing back at Remus as he continued on his way out; "I'll see you later, Uncle Remus."

Remus smiled, nodding a dismissal, but his eyes were quickly all for the young woman who had entered, and Harry watched the two of the with interest as he slowed in his departure from the room. He could hear them, faintly, from where he was heading out the door – " _…brings you here…" "…Ministry. Crouch insisted…Dumbledore…" "You're kidding." "Nope…so, here I am…"_

Harry couldn't made all that much sense of it, the words, but he was far, far more interested in the exchange not because of the words, but because of the way the two of them were _looking_ at one another as they spoke, Harry's presence long since forgotten.

Harry realised with a smile as he headed on out the room that, actually, he had never seen Remus look at his mum that way, in all the years that they had all been a family together.

Well. At least, maybe, one of them would get to be happy.

* * *

The last in a long line of impossibly quick-fired spells hit Regulus square on the chest, sending him flying and twisting in the air across the room in the direction of the bookcase.

It was transfigured, mere millimetres from impact into a cushioned mattress, and he hit it and bounced down onto another mattress – his new couch having been transfigured, also – on the floor of the office with an ' _oomph!'._

The bookcase-mattress then proceeded to tipple over and land on top of him.

Regulus flicked his wand, throwing it aside, and got to his feet – albeit awkwardly, atop of the bounce of the mattress springs – his wand lifted and ready to go on.

Severus, however, was fighting a smirk and merely crossed his arms across his chest, as he regarded him with triumphant amusement.

"Thanks," Regulus muttered, with a glance at the two mattresses

"I cannot claim it was entirely for your benefit, Regulus. The furniture does tend to take a bit of a walloping, whenever you decide to get your wand out."

Regulus' lips twitched at the joke – glad of Severus' ability to find his sense of humour, considering his friend's current unsavoury circumstances – and made his way back in the direction of the desk, flicking his wand as he did so, transfiguring the mattresses back into their previous forms.

" _Goes without saying I'm a little rusty,"_ Regulus had remarked to him, a couple of weeks before, with reference to the, somewhat, embarrassing display of his lack of skill with a wand.

" _So, I noticed."_

Regulus had avoided it for years, combat too much of a reminder of his time in the ranks, but even then it was not only the passage of time that attributed to his poor performance at the Foundation at the beginning of the year. He wasn't, exactly, spectacular at duelling when he _was_ running with Death Eaters – although he was much better then, than now – but he had been far too cocky and certain of his own abilities back then to even consider that _practice_ might be needed.

Not so now, though. And foolish, when one considers that he ranked very highly on the Dark Lord's current 'must-kill' list.

As such, what with Severus in need of letting off some steam and Regulus is need of learning some decent defence skills, duelling sessions had become a regular engagement between the two of them since the Foundation had finished reconstruction a fortnight past.

"Dare I say it," Regulus remarked, as he lifted a bottle and poured them both another glass of firewhiskey; "You're in a good mood." He held out Severus' drink towards him.

Severus lifted his eyes heavenward but said nothing to dispute the statement, as he took the offered glass; "The Foundation is close to opening its doors?"

"Pending Ministry approval," Regulus clarified, with a shake of his head, as he lifted and downed his own drink in one swig: "Ministry personnel on the door. Log sheets of the comings and goings. Waiving of the confidentially rights of the patients in the Counselling Department." Regulus broke off, pouring another drink.

Severus reached into his robes, pulling out a phial and placing it on the desk; "For Julia."

Regulus glanced at it, the lone phial, aware of the unspoken truth – _'for Lily' –_ and got a small smile, realising the reason for the apparent good mood of his friend.

"Almost there?"

Severus glanced away; "It is too soon to know for certain."

"But there's reason to hope."

Severus did not grasp the opportunity for optimism – though, obviously, it _was_ something he felt, his demeanour prior making that clear enough – and instead simply said; "If she could keep you informed of the results, I'll be able to make any necessary adjustments to guarantee success."

"Sounds like good news to me. Harry will be –"

"Do not say anything to Harry," Severus warned him, before he could even finish; "It's too soon to make such promises and with circumstances such as they are the last thing he needs is to be distracted by further...disappointments."

"Well, with the boys still being at school I wouldn't have the opportunity to do so," Regulus pointed out, dialling back his own enthusiasm a notch, as he quickly picked up on Severus' meaning. Regret, even, at what had transpired, though Regulus knew better than to expect such a sentiment to be admitted out loud.

He indicated the middle of the office, once more, instead; "Another opportunity for me to embarrass myself?"

Severus' lips twitched and he shook his head, finishing off his glass and placing it on the desk; "Dumbledore has requested an audience with me."

"Finally managed to get something sorted out with Crouch?"

"I suppose we're about to find out," Severus conceded; "I do believe their previous point of contention was whether or not Defence Against the Dark Arts was a subject which ought to even be taught," he paused with a scoff; "Suffice to say, it seems Dumbledore's argument in favour was, perhaps, a little too convincing."

"How so?"

"You haven't heard? Well. In lieu of eliminating the students' knowledge of the Dark Arts completely, Crouch has now taken Dumbledore's assertions of the need for a strong defence a little further than intended and believes that a strong offence from our 'future soldiers' is most invaluable. He has mandated the introduction of a more rigorous Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum with compulsory combat instruction to those in years three and above."

Regulus could only stare back at him, as he attempted to digest the information, and whether or not he thought this was a good idea or otherwise.

"Something you may have benefited from, Regulus, had it been mandated during our years at the school," Severus jibed, as he shrugged into his outer robe.

Regulus shot him a look, exaggeratedly offended.

"He has assigned one of his aurors – your younger cousin, in fact – as overseer of the project."

"Dora?"

"The very one."

Regulus could feel himself visibly relax at the information.

"Well. They're in good hands, then."

"She's practically a child herself," Severus stated, as he made his way to the door; "But, then, you and I both know that Dumbledore prefers the company of the easily influenced."

"I thought you said Crouch assigned her?"

Severus smirked; "And I'd bet he's under the impression that was his own idea."

Regulus released a breath, a sort of scoff of agreement before, with a nod to take leave, Severus made his way from the room.

* * *

Grace bounded from one step to the next, before launching off the last of them onto the stone ground at the bottom of the stairwell.

She loved it here.

Living at Hogwarts.

A real castle, like something from the fairy tales her mummy had told her, with passages to explore, and new people to meet – and not just human people, either! – and there was _magic_ here, everywhere she looked. But the best part, as much as she had always longed to be amongst the magic, was that Harry was there too and they could see it all together.

Well. They _could_ do, if Harry wasn't always so busy _._

Quiddich practice and classes and homework and private lessons all kept him away from her for most of the day.

But that was fine.

Grace was happy to go and explore alone, sometimes, and have adventures of her own. On the rare occasions – like now – that she managed to sneak out from under her Uncle Remus' watchful eye, that is.

She walked with a skip and a smile for anyone she passed. It was daytime so there was a few of them, but classes were in session, so it was just the odd stray prefect, a professor, a ghost. They barely gave her a second glance, her presence so commonplace now after these past few weeks, except for a smile and a nod or an 'afternoon, little Potter'.

There would be more people up ahead, though, if she carried on her path towards the Great Hall, so she took a turn and, instead, ended up in a corridor with walls lined with portraits and hanging tapestries and Grace grinned, excitedly, as the portraits sprung to life with chatter as she walked by them.

She turned in circles as she moved, giggling at the display, once again enamoured by the magic of the castle – she had never seen so many talking portraits at once before! – and she was feeling dizzy and giddy when she made her last spin and began to bound on further down the corridor but, instead, found herself colliding with an array of dark robes and a solid person beneath them and ending up on her bottom on the floor with an;

"Umph!"

Grace gave herself a dramatic shake, to shake off the confusion and the dizziness, before peering, sheepishly up at the person she had run into.

It was a man – a professor, Grace supposed – that she hadn't seen before and he was looking down at her, strangely, neither scolding nor greeting her. Just staring.

He was tall, hair black and long, and his nose was crooked, and his eyes –

Grace felt weird, all of a sudden, when she looked into his eyes and she had to look away; a feeling of both eery familiarity and disconcertedness washed over her, as if she had been here before, but it was there, and then it was gone, and when she managed to shake that weird feeling away she noticed there was a hand in front of her, waiting to pull her back up.

Grace grasped it, immediately, and allowed the strange man to pull her to her feet and she shot him a bright smile; "Hi!"

He let go of her hand, his own falling to his side, and he gave a slight nod but said nothing. Oops, he probably was expecting an apology! Her mummy would expect one – Grace pushed away that thought. This wasn't a time to be sad.

"Um," Grace glanced down at the floor, shifting on her feet, before giving him another sheepish look; "Sorry. I wasn't looking - there's talking portraits you see! – I mean, I _should_ have been looking where I was going. Uncle Remus always tells me to. He's a teacher here! Are you a teacher, too?"

The man nodded. Barely, though, so Grace found it hard to notice.

But he didn't look like a _mean_ man, even though he wasn't speaking, and he didn't even really seem cross with her, that she had run into him, so she smiled, brightly, before her eyes caught sight of the room from where he must have come.

Her eyes lit up, as she spotted the shelves within that were lined with brightly coloured glass bottles and phials and jars; "Woah!" She looked excitedly up at him, then back at the shelves; "Is that your room? Oh. It's a storeroom," she realised; "It looks like my basement at home! There's all these jars, just like those ones. It's my…"

Grace trailed off, a further feeling of disorientation coming over her, just like the odd one she'd had a minute ago, and, for a second, it felt like she wasn't really there, or she was spinning. But it was only a second and, by the time it was over, she couldn't remember what she'd been saying and she looked up at him with a smile.

"I'm Grace," she said and held out her hand.

The man was looking at her with a frown.

Grace raised an eyebrow, expectantly; "You're supposed to tell me your name and shake my hand."

It took a second, and Grace wasn't sure if he was going to do as she asked, but he did and he took her hand in his, watching her closely as he did so.

_That_ felt weird.

The feeling from before, even stronger, came back. There and then gone.

"Are you alright?"

It was the first time the man had spoken and Grace looked up at him, quickly, because that time, the strange feeling was accompanied by one of safeness, as if this man could be trusted, as if she knew the voice and she nodded, before asking:

"What's your name?"

She wanted him to talk again.

Before he could, though, another, very familiar voice, called from up the corridor.

"Grace!"

Her Uncle Remus was upon them, before she barely had a chance to turn around, and she felt his hands on her shoulders pulling her back towards him; "Severus, I am so sorry –" he sounded almost _panicked_ , which wasn't something Grace was used to when it came to her always serenely calm uncle, and she looked up at him with a bemused frown.

"I'm okay, Uncle Remus," Grace said, confused at the seeming line crossed; "I was just exploring the castle, like always."

But Remus only glanced at her briefly, his hand squeezing her shoulder, before he looked back at the other man. The other man who looked a little bit different now, colder, or maybe just annoyed. Grace wasn't sure, it was difficult to tell. But he didn't look annoyed in the brief moment he looked back at her, before he spoke again.

"No harm done."

He stepped by them, beginning to walk in the direction Grace had been coming from, but he glanced over his shoulder as he passed, his eyes meeting Remus' and they just _looked_ at one another but didn't say anything. Grace quickly realised that the two of them weren't friends.

A flick of his wrist – a wand – and the door to the storeroom clicked shut before he carried on his way.

"Wait!" Grace called after him, and the man came to an immediate halt. But he just stopped where he was, not turning round.

"You didn't tell me your name," Grace said, crossing her arms, expectantly.

The man still didn't turn, only looked back over his shoulder at her.

Grace raised an eyebrow. She knew it was _rude_ not to tell someone your name during an introduction, after all, and although her Uncle Remus had addressed him when he got there, it was a strange name, that she wasn't able to pick up from his hasty interruption.

The man drew in a breath before he said:

"Professor Snape."

Grace got that funny feeling again at hearing his voice, of disorientation and of warmth, and she gave him a smile when it passed; "Pleased to meet you, Professor Snape!"

There was a slight tilt of his chin, before he said; "And you, Miss Potter."

Grace felt her Uncle Remus' hand squeeze her shoulder, the kind of way you'd do for comfort, through the strange feeling that came over her again at the sound of Professor Snape's voice.

And then, suddenly, both it and he were gone.

* * *

Severus had managed to dodge such an encounter for a full two months.

He'd sought Grace out, himself, of course and stolen glances from afar whenever the opportunity surfaced – and had, quite successfully, managed to suppress the rising resentment at just how close she evidently _was_ with Lupin – but such moments were nothing compared to the experience of actually standing before her, a stranger, as she chattered on in a way that was so very _Grace_ that his chest constricted with every word, every bright smile she sent his way.

She was far too innocent, too trusting for this world.

Severus had spent the rest of the afternoon, into the evening, rattled by the experience: haunted by the smiles and giggles and dramatic antics of his little girl.

It was almost a blessed distraction when Dumbledore's summons had been revealed to be regarding the ongoing crimes and misdemeanours of a certain, well-known group of students within his House.

A group that had, quite recently, found itself graced with the presence of a certain Malachi Black.

"Is this about Grace?" Malachi said, before Severus even had the chance to speak upon summoning his Godson to his office the next day.

Severus drew in a bracing breath; "I beg your pardon?"

"Grace," Malachi repeated, as if Grace and his fathering of her were an entirely acceptable subject of conversation; "Is she why you've been watching me all the time? You're not doing it with anyone else."

"I have been watching you, along with the other involved members of this House," Severus stated, before clarifying; "For obvious reasons, I cannot intervene in quite the same manner in their case as I can yours – as you have just indicated, you are well aware of my position – but rest assured, Malachi, intervene in your case, I will."

"I'm not going to tell them who she is."

"I know."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Malachi," Severus put a hand on top of the items that Filch had confiscated, pushing them in Malachi's direction; " _This_ is the reason that I have called you into my office. Statute propaganda; banned books; breaking curfews; the practicing of dark magic – I could go on, but I think the implications are quite clear."

Malachi sighed, shaking his head, a vehement denial of the accusation; "I already told you, last year, Professor. I _don't_ want to be a Death Eater. I don't even think _they_ really want to be Death Eaters' either. Not all of them, anyway."

"If you suspect that _any_ of them do so, then why associate with them at all?"

"Because I'm one of them."

"What?"

"Not the Death Eater part, obviously," Malachi clarified, "But the thinking part. And most of them are really smart, you know. The Slytherins. They see how damaging the statute is to us, to _our_ way of life, making out that _we're_ the freaks, the ones who have to hide who we are. It's not right, having to spend your whole life hiding who and what you are just to stop people from killing you."

Ah.

Severus lifted his chin, in a slight indication of understanding, as he realised that, perhaps, his Godson's view was more shaped by that of his own experience of being hunted, rather than the influence of his peers.

Still.

"Muggles don't want to kill us, Malachi."

"Because they don't know we exist. Because we don't give them a chance to even know us. To understand us," Malachi said, becoming more and more impassioned with each statement; "The Statute, _we_ make it a secret – magic – something to be ashamed of; to be scared of. So, why are we even surprised when they _are_ afraid and _do_ want to hunt us, like they did before?"

"You want us to live among muggles."

Malachi looked hesitant at the statement. Though whether he was actually unsure or just uncomfortable to say so, Severus wasn't certain.

"I guess. Eventually," he shrugged; "We're not ready yet, I know. But…I don't think they're so different from us."

"I see," Severus said, before the two of them fell silent.

While it wasn't what Severus had been expecting to hear – though, he supposed, there had been hints of such a viewpoint – it was, nonetheless, reassuring that the severance of his friendship with Harry hadn't thrown him down a path that was just a bit too familiar in circumstances to his own as a boy for comfort.

"I suppose you're aware that such a _revolutionary_ stance is likely not one that is shared by those of your housemates?" Severus finally said, as way of warning; "Particularly the ones with whom you're associating."

"I know you think it's stupid. Lots of wizards do."

"No. It is not stupid," Severus conceded for, really, it was admirable, particularly for one so young to come to such a strong-held conclusion themselves. Even so, it was a particularly _naïve_ stance; "It is just…unattainable. As is always the case in such matters in nature, one must always be the superior – or, at least, believe themselves to be – and, as such, we find ourselves at war. The Statute protects us all, Malachi."

"Well. It's not doing a very good job of that right now, is it?" Malachi countered, with a raised eyebrow.

Severus' lips twitched – almost a smile – but before he could offer a retort of his own there was a knock at the door to his office before it opened a crack and Regulus' head popped in through the gap.

He shot them a wide grin; "Am I late?"

Malachi rolled his eyes and slumped down further in his chair.

* * *

Grace looked up, eagerly, when another tall figure in black robes strode into the Great Hall.

But it wasn't Professor Snape, so she sighed and turned her attention back to the picture she had been drawing.

"Hey, Grace."

"Harry!" Grace beamed, for her brother was an even better person to see, even if she _was_ really looking forward to seeing the man – the professor – who she'd met the day before.

She didn't even, really, know _why_ she had liked him so much or why she was so desperate to see him again, but she'd asked her Uncle Remus, anyway, if she could spend the afternoon in the Great Hall that day – close to the corridor of talking portraits – just in case he came back. She didn't tell Uncle Remus that was the reason, of course. She could tell right away that they didn't like each other.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked, taking a seat on the bench beside her; "Where's Uncle Remus?"

"He's teaching," Grace said, politely not pointing out that _obviously_ that's where their uncle was; "I didn't want to sit in the back, so he said I could sit here –" she glanced in the direction of the top table, " – as long as Hagrid can see me, wherever I am. I'm just drawing pictures."

"Aw, yeah, that looks great," Harry said, with more enthusiasm than the picture really deserved, but Grace just smiled, enjoying her brother's approval, anyway; "Is that the basement? Do you miss it?"

"It's the potions jars and stuff, see," Grace explained, pointing them out; "I remember where everything is, even though we haven't been home for so long."

"Well, yeah, no surprise there. You're _awfully_ smart, Grace."

Grace shot him a look at the exaggerated praise and Harry chuckled.

Grace grinned; "You can show me magic instead, though." She put the colouring pencil down; "Something you did in class."

"Boring. Here," Harry flicked his wand and all her coloured pencils turned into coloured feathers. He gave a blow and they all scattered across the table.

"Hey! Bring those back!" Grace laughed, reaching out and grasping for the feathers.

Harry laughed, flicking his wand, and transfigured them back into pencils.

"Can you help me write something?" Grace asked, handing him the blue one.

"Sure."

"Okay, here," Grace pointed to the top corner of her picture and Harry smiled, obliging by pressing the top of the pencil where she indicated; "To Professor Snape."

The pencil lead snapped.

"Oh no! Harry!" Grace looked at the offending mark left in its place.

"Um, sorry," Harry muttered, looking confused and worried and glancing all around them before he leaned in closer and spoke more quietly; "Professor Snape? This is for him? Wha…why… _how_ do you know Professor Snape?"

"I saw him yesterday. He was in a storeroom, it looked just like that," Grace explained, as if that were a good enough reason, pointing at the picture; "I wanted to show him what _our_ basement looks like, so he'd see it looks just like ours."

Harry looked at her, strangely; "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to show him what our basement looks like?"

"Because I do."

"Snape doesn't care about our basement, Grace."

"It's _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Grace pointed out, making her voice higher in the way she knew Harry hated; "Mind your manners."

"Look, just…just stay away from Professor Snape, Grace, alright? Leave him alone."

"Leave him alone? Why?"

"Because…well, because he's…he's…"

"He's what?"

"He's a Slytherin."

"Malachi's a Slytherin."

"Yeah, well. Stay away from him, too."

Grace crossed her arms across her chest, defiantly; "I will _not_ stay away from Malachi. He's my friend, too."

"Look, Snape doesn't like pictures. He'd just make you upset. Please, Grace, just – just stay away from him. And don't talk about him. Not to anyone."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not right. You're not my…"

Grace broke off, suddenly, when that strange feeling she'd gotten the day before came back.

"Grace? Grace?"

When the feeling passed, Harry's face was even closer to her, his hand on her shoulder; "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just…felt funny, that's all."

"Funny how?" Harry pressed his palm to her forehead, fussing like their mummy would do.

Grace swatted him away; "It's okay. It's just a funny feeling. Not a _sick_ feeling. Kind of like…like I've seen everything before or been here before. I dunno."

"Déjà vu?"

"Day-what?"

"Déjà vu, it's…well, it's like what you said. Feeling like you've experienced something before. Something happening right at the same time."

"Yeah. That's it," Grace nodded in agreement, mouthing the new phrase, quietly, under her breath; "I got it when I was talking to Professor Snape yesterday, too."

"You had déjà vu? You…did you have any other feelings? Or – I dunno. See things? Things that weren't there or something?"

"No. I'm not _loopy,"_ Grace went cock-eyed, making a face, because Harry's silly questions and meanness about the nice professor were starting to annoy her now.

"Grace."

"I had nice feelings," Grace said, lifting a pencil and finishing off her drawing, in the hopes her brother would shut up if she just told him; "Safe feelings, his voice made me feel. He was nice. I like him."

When Harry said nothing, Grace looked up at him from the paper, but he wasn't looking back at her. Instead, he was looking out at nothing with a frown and a thinking face and Grace realised;

"Oh. You don't like him, do you?"

"What?"

"Uncle Remus doesn't like him, either."

"Grace, who told you that? They like one another fine. They…they probably don't even know each other – look, just stop talking about Sn – Professor Snape, alright?"

"Only if you give me a good, proper reason."

"I'll give him the picture for you, alright? If you promise not to talk about him again – ever – to anyone except me?"

Grace's eyes lit up; "Done!"

"Done," Harry repeated, with a sigh, taking the picture she eagerly handed his way.

* * *

Severus was muttering something to his dad just over the threshold to his office and Malachi could see the tension leave him as they did, before he nodded, his familiar smile returning, and he gave Severus' arm a pat as headed in Malachi's direction.

His dad looked fine. Great, even.

"How's your leg?"

"Good as new," his dad said, giving it a firm slap as if to prove it true, before he took a seat in the chair beside him. The door to the office clicked shut behind them, signaling Severus' departure.

"Good," Malachi mumbled, shifting under his dad's watchful gaze; "Julia, she's been looking after you?"

"My own personal healer, Son," he grinned as he said it, before reassuring him; "You don't have to worry about me."

Malachi gave him a small smile, more than just a little glad to hear it and, despite the circumstances of the visit, he _was_ glad to see his dad. If only to see that his letters were true, and he was getting back to himself – his _full_ self – after what had happened.

"So," his dad began; "Severus tells me –"

"Aw, Dad!" Exasperation quickly snuffed out his gladness; "I _know_ what Severus has been telling you. He's got it wrong, alright?"

"Is that right?" his dad said, eyes glancing over all the books and Statute journals on Severus' desk, his skepticism obvious.

"Yes," Malachi insisted; "I just spoke to him – he shouldn't have dragged you here, you should be in bed."

His dad snorted; "You're so much like your mother, sometimes, Son. I've long since recovered. I'm even practicing my dueling now; let's try and avoid a repeat of that embarrassing performance at New Year."

Malachi shot him a look; "Fat load of good being better at dueling is going to be, if another building falls on your head, Dad."

His dad's laughter was something he missed like crazy these past few weeks, ever since _that_ night, so it was a welcome sound, even if what he'd just said was bang on right. His dad was _lucky. He_ was lucky.

"How's Harry?"

Malachi averted his eyes.

"He's fine."

"He is, hm?"

"Yes."

"Mind telling me how you know that?"

Malachi shot his dad a look; "You know, it's not _me_ Severus is supposed to be spying on."

"He's not spying on you, Malachi. He's concerned. As am I."

"I can choose my own friends."

"Oh well, yes. Of course. And you made a good choice _there,_ you know. You two have been running me ragged for years, now. It'd be…well, a bit of a pity to let that go over something that…well. That was nobody's fault."

"How can you be so _calm._ Weren't you scared?"

"Of course, I was scared, Son," his dad sighed; "But that wasn't Harry's doing."

Malachi looked away, gloweringly, the subject only igniting the furiousness he had been feeling for months – even past any regret or missing of Harry that swelled up from time to time, especially now Grace had turned up – but he said nothing to his dad about that.

"Malachi."

Malachi shifted where he sat, leaning back further, and avoided his dad's – infuriating reasoning look – because he was determined he was right about this.

"Well," his dad finally said, with a roll of the eyes; "You certainly are a Black."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, we Blacks, we know how to nurse our grudges."

Malachi met his eyes then, more than a little confused at the statement. That wasn't his dad, at all. He was everyone's friend. A smile for anyone. He never even seemed angry at Voldemort, for Merlin's sake, or even _Hopkins_ for trying to kill him and killing his mum.

"That's not you, Dad."

His dad held his look and for an alarming moment the spark, the one that Malachi was so used to, the one that was always there except during _those_ moments, was gone. Those rare ones where he actually _told_ him stuff; things like his mum was dead or that he was Death Eater.

This, Malachi realized, was going to be another moment like that.

His dad drew in a breath before he spoke, but his eyes were on the floor not on him when he did.

"My brother died for me, thinking that I hated him."

Malachi hesitated, the rawness of his dad's revelation knocking him back for a second. It wasn't what he had been expecting; the admittance or the pain that was evident behind it.

"Uncle Sirius didn't think that. How could he?"

' _After all that he had done for them'_ , it went without saying. But, then, maybe _that_ explained the palpable regret in his dad's expression when he finally looked at him.

"He did."

"How do you know?"

"Because _I_ did."

Malachi could be nothing but silent in face of the admittance. He never knew that. Or. Well. Maybe he _did._ He remembered, now, how he used to think they didn't even really act like brothers.

"I have a, rather, _endless_ list of regrets, that I think you're getting pretty familiar with, by now. I wasted a lot of time – most of the time – I had left with my brother, holding onto past hurts that, quite frankly, didn't hold up against how that all ended up."

Malachi met his eyes, his resolved softened, somewhat, by what his dad was saying, and shook his head; "It's not the same. Me and Harry. It's not the same."

"No?"

"No."

Malachi looked away, because talking about Sirius dying only reminded him of how close his dad had come to _joining_ him there – wherever _there_ was – his Uncle Sirius, and Auntie Andie and his mum and that was a thought that was just unthinkable and incomprehensible to him.

Malachi only looked back at his dad when he felt him grasp his wrist, a look of such concern and of _love_ there, that he finally just said it.

"Dad. Dad, if you died…" Malachi swallowed, irritated that he could feel the prickle of tears; "I wouldn't have anybody. There wouldn't be anyone for me to even _be_ here for."

The grip on his wrist tightened and his dad leaned in closer.

"Malachi. That is _not_ true."

"Who'd I have?"

"Harry."

Malachi looked down at the assertion.

"Harry…he's…he's got his own family. Professor Lupin. Severus. He's got all these people who care about him. He's got all these people and he treated them like crap."

He finally said it, something he never would have dreamed of even thinking, never mind saying, the year before when it had all been happening because Malachi had been there and he'd understood and he'd felt sorry for him. But _now._

"He treated them like crap. And he pushed them all away. And when they were gone, like he _wanted_ them to be, like he _made_ them be, and he realized he _needed_ them, they weren't there anymore. So, then he came and he took _you_ and you almost _died_ for him. That's not okay, Dad, it's not."

His dad's arms were around him, then, and they just sat like that for a minute.

When they drew back, his dad looked at him, understanding in his eyes now but, of course, he wasn't done.

"I get it, Son. I do," he squeezed his shoulder; "So, would Harry. We all make mistakes. And Harry understands what's happening here, what you've been through – with everything, not just at Christmas – better than anyone. You know that."

Malachi lowered his eyes.

"Malachi. A friendship like yours and Harry's; bonded with someone who has shared the same experiences as you, who knows the same reality and really understands it and _you_. A friendship like that, it is rare and…well…"

He glanced up, noticing his dad's eyes glancing in the direction of the door, looking somewhat uncomfortable, and, despite the heaviness of the moment, Malachi's lips twitched when he realized why his dad had broken off.

"Precious?" Malachi offered up, teasingly; "Life- affirming?" – his dad looked back at him with a frown, while Malachi grinned – "Something to be treasured, for all eternity? Severus isn't here but I'm sure he'd appreciate the sentiment."

His dad scoffed, rolling his eyes, and shot him a grin.

"It's not something to be taken for granted. Least of all something to be thrown away. Especially now. Because time _is_ short. For all of us."

Malachi drew in a breath, as he mulled over his dad's words. After a moment he gave him a small smile and a nod, and that wide smile and the spark in his dad's eyes was back, before he stood and went to give him a hug.

"Uncle Sirius knew you loved him, Dad," Malachi said, quietly, into his shoulder; "If I could see it, so could he."

His dad said nothing, only the tightening of his arms around him indicating that he heard at all.

* * *

"Did you give it to him?"

Harry jumped, startled at the sudden presence of his sister at his side and quickly shushed her, with a look around at the congregated third and fourth years; "Yeah."

He headed further into the room, Grace on his heels, glad he wasn't late enough to actually miss the beginning of the called assembly.

"Did he like it?"

Harry nodded. It was only a white lie, really – _obviously_ Snape was going to like it, or he had better, unless he really _did_ have a heart of stone – as while Harry hadn't given the picture to him yet, he would do, later that day, at their next occlumency session. But Harry figured it was better to just concede he already had, rather than deal with Grace's wrath in the middle of the Great Hall for anyone to hear.

"What did he say?"

"He said 'thanks', Grace," Harry said, giving her a smile; "He liked it a lot. Maybe you could do some pictures for the other professors too?"

"Um," Grace thought about it and then shrugged before giving a nod, but it wasn't with the same enthusiasm that she had had for Snape's; "Yeah, okay. I'll do some now, while you're practicing."

"Be careful, make sure you stay back, okay? No wandering."

"Uncle Remus already set up that desk for me," Grace indicated one in the corner of the room, which Harry guessed had a barrier spell placed around it and he gave her a smile and ruffled her hair, before she bounded on over, obviously pleased by the confirmation of Snape's approval.

_Why_ did she care about Snape's approval?

If what Remus had told him were the case, the whole point of this situation was that Grace wasn't supposed to have any attachment whatsoever to Snape, much less be drawing him pictures and professing her admiration while addressing him by name.

Any further thoughts on the matter were pushed from Harry's mind when Remus – with Nymphadora Tonks at his side – addressed the room.

"Alright, everyone. I'm sure you've all heard by now that the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum is undergoing some changes and, well, this is one of them. Combat tutorials, four afternoons a week after classes –" there were murmurs amongst the listening students, some of discontent, some of excitement; " – which are compulsory and, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear, in lieu of final exams in the subject. You'll be expected to meet a certain level of understanding and of combat abilities and graded accordingly, before moving onto the next levels."

Remus glanced to the side, at the woman who was standing by him, and smiled; "This is Nymphadora Tonks, an auror. She'll be assisting me –" there was a little smile from Tonks, which made Remus avert his eyes – "and _us_ in these sessions, throughout the rest of the year."

Harry snickered at their obviousness.

"So, if you could all pair up," Remus indicated; "We'll begin."

Harry hesitated for a second, eyes scanning the hall and looking for any sign of Ron, but just as he caught sight of him – appearing to be pairing up with Hermione – Malachi stepped into his line of sight.

The two of them just looked at one another for a second before Malachi headed towards him.

"Hey," Harry said, uncertainly, when he reached him.

Malachi shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable; "You wanna pair up?"

"Um…do you still want to kill me?"

"A bit."

Harry gave a little smile, lowering his eyes, because he knew Malachi wasn't looking for another apology. He just wanted Harry to know that while he might be _here,_ he was still mad, but this was a start and a scrap that he was willing to take, so Harry shrugged.

"I'll take my chances."

Malachi smiled and the two of them headed off to find a better spot in the room.


	63. April 1995: A Place Called Home

They never told him.

Remus and Snape.

They never told Harry what they were going to do to his sister.

When Snape had left him that day in St Mungo's - still a mess, sure – there was the flicker of hope, of comfort even, that he had left behind in the wake of their conversation. A resolved reassurance that Snape would protect them, him and Grace, and he'd bring Grace back to him and he would save his mum, and the colossal mistake that Harry had made wouldn't have had quite as colossal consequences as he had been tearing himself up about.

And – foolishly, obviously – Harry had wondered, for a second, if the three of _them_ were going to be a family for a little while. And how would that have even worked? Harry had pictured awkward breakfasts, tentative smiles, uneasy truces; he and Snape brought together by this mutual love for his little sister. Which all seemed so ridiculous, now – although, really, they always were – and Harry was glad that he had never spoken the words out loud to anyone.

No, instead, Snape's great _plan_ was to take himself out of the picture completely.

And Harry was torn, then, because, frankly, that was everything that _he_ could have ever wanted – aside from his mum waking up – and, if anything, Snape should have done it sooner.

They were better off without him.

They were better off without him.

Harry kept repeating it, over and over again in his mind, since that night he'd gone to his Uncle Remus' chambers – his old chambers, now – and the situation had been explained to him. By Remus, obviously, for Snape had long since washed his hands of them, and it was up to Remus, _again,_ to cover up his mess.

And Harry was _mad,_ so mad and offended and outraged on Remus and Grace's behalf, even if Remus didn't seem to be, and how did he even come up with this stuff, Snape, anyway?

But Harry was glad, too, for _himself_ that Snape was finally gone. But rather than feel any sort of triumph in that, he just felt awful and guilty and selfish for thinking it. Because…well…that was Grace's _dad_.

Harry mashed it down, the guilt, the cold-hard reality that he had basically _orphaned_ his baby sister, telling himself he could be everything she needed. He and Remus, they could protect her, make her happy, bring her up, and she'd never have to know what an arse of a father she had.

And why, _why_ did it have to be Snape?

But Harry mashed that thought down, too, because he knew, now, how important it was that he get a handle on himself, on those thoughts, and focus on the _real_ problems that they faced. And, to do that, he needed occlumency.

And Snape to teach it to him.

So, he kept coming to these lessons and kept doing as Snape instructed and kept his mouth shut – even if he was, he couldn't help it, desperate to say something about it – and just focused. And, with Snape being so _Snape_ , he was quite happy to just get on with it and teach with nothing personal – much less Grace – even coming up, other than Harry's enquiry at the start of every session into what progress has been made helping his mum.

And it was _working_. He was learning and Grace was happy and Snape was just his teacher, nothing more, and when his mum woke up she would finally see just how _fine_ everything was, how much _better,_ even, their lives could be without him.

Finally, things were settling down.

And then Grace started talking about Professor Snape.

"You're distracted tonight, Potter."

"I'm fine."

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to remain calm and drew upon what he'd learned from the meditation exercises Snape had been assigning to him; tried to focus on the quiet, the stillness – that did not exist – and then drew in a breath, two, three times, focusing on that.

And when he felt suitably calm he opened his eyes only to find himself looking directly into Snape's – even from a distance that was unnerving enough – but what _actually_ unnerved him, this time, was that little slither of concern present. It was there and then gone in a second, but the second was enough because he looked like _Grace_ in that moment _,_ and Harry released an exasperated breath, turning away.

"I beg to differ."

"Okay. Okay fine. I'm not _fine_. We're not fine. This isn't fine. Everything that's going on with my mum, with Grace; not fine."

"Potter."

It was more concern than agitation in Snape's voice when he said it – another reminder that Snape wasn't _just_ his teacher – but that, _that_ was not at all welcome. Not now. Not when things were beginning to unravel all over again and Harry had to put a stop to that now, before it was too late, and weeks and weeks of suppressing the thought finally burst forth.

"We don't need you, you know."

Snape only stared back at him. Emotionless, as ever.

"Mum," Harry went on; "When she comes back, she won't need you."

"I won't contest that. Your mother is the strongest person I know."

"Then why are you with her?"

"That is not a matter that is up for discussion."

"Why did you do it? You and Mum? It's crazy. A relationship with no chance of it _ever_ going anywhere and then bringing an unwanted child into the world."

Snape's eyes flashed, unexpectedly, and Harry found himself unconsciously bracing himself for what came next.

"Let me assure you, Mr. Potter," Snape's voice was quiet, but it was clipped and short and left no room for argument; "that my daughter is not now, nor has she even been, unwanted. And I caution you against ever referring to her again as such, in the future."

That damned picture Grace had given him was burning a hole in his pocket, a reminder of her ever-lingering attachment to this man – her father – in front of him, and that only ignited Harry's furiousness over what had been done to her, further.

"Then what are you doing? Now. What are you doing to Grace?"

"Potter."

"Because that's what she's going to think. When she finds out what you did to her, she's going to wonder why and _how_ you could have done this to her."

Snape said nothing. He was just as silent and infuriating as he always was, giving nothing away, and refusing to admit any wrongdoing, any culpability in what was happening.

"You can't go around, messing with people's heads – with _our_ heads – just because us knowing things is _inconvenient_ to you. You can't. And I'm not going to do to Grace what you made my Uncle Remus do to me. I won't."

That did it, it seemed; Snape's stoicism finally giving way to impatience and leading him to finally _saying_ something, other than the polite back and forth that had been going on since what had happened at New Year.

"Potter, you spent the better half of last year insisting that this knowledge was something that you were not only willing to have, but that you were entirely capable of comprehending and protecting in these times of – and this is no exaggeration – _mortal peril_. And now, knowing it, you have decided otherwise?" there was the slightest, humourless upturn of the lips – of expected disappointment – before he went on; "Well. I assure you; I will not stand for that. You will not prove my reservations from last year right, you will not bow under this pressure and you will not throw everything that has been done and sacrificed to the wind."

Harry finally snapped.

"I'm not the one throwing everything to the wind."

He reached into his robes, grasping for and yanking out the picture Grace has given to him the day before, and stepped towards the desk to shove it in Snape's direction.

Snape eyed it for a second, before taking it.

"What is this?"

"It's from your daughter. She wanted you to have it."

Harry couldn't have kept the bitterness from his voice if he tried. And, maybe, he _was_ angrier than he'd thought about all of this than he'd allowed himself to believe. And maybe he didn't really think they'd all be better off without him.

Maybe he was angry and bitter and _disappointed,_ that the – seeming – promises made while they were in St Mungo's were broken, the words misleading and empty, and that Snape hadn't meant that they'd make this work. That he'd be there for Grace. That he'd be there for him – and where did _that_ thought come from – but Snape didn't seem bothered by his tone.

His attention was all for the drawing in his hand.

"You told her _your name_ ," Harry said, as if _that_ was the stupidest thing the man had ever done.

Snape met his eyes, before he placed the item atop of his desk, resuming his stubbornly stoic stance; "To not have told her would have only piqued her curiosity."

"You shouldn't have spoken to her at all. Isn't that the whole point? Now she won't shut up about you. And, what, I'm just supposed to _lie_ to her about it? No."

"Potter –"

"Lying to Grace was never the plan. Taking away her _memories_ was never the plan."

It was _outrageous._ After everything Harry had told him about his own father, after he had all but _begged_ him to give him some relief and restore a memory – just a single memory – he had the nerve to _rob_ his sister of hers.

"You just expect me to accept everything that you do and you say. As if I should be grateful, or something, to know the truth," Harry finally erupted; "So, what, now you and me – and mum, when she wakes up – we get to work together –" _work together_ , not be a family, his treacherous mind added; " – and Grace gets to be shoved to the side – like I was – and you thought I'd be okay with that?"

Snape's expression softened, slightly, in understanding but not enough to placate him, so Harry went on, unable to stop himself now that he was finally able to say what it was that he'd mashed down all these weeks.

"Grace won't _ever_ feel the way you made me feel, never. I won't do it. So you make up your mind and _you_ stop screwing up – because it's not _always_ me doing it – because it's not fair on Grace for you to make her feel something for you when you can't be there for her. It's not. It wasn't fair on her before when you knew you could never be what she needed and it's not fair now, _now_ when she finally had a chance to just forget about you."

Snape's nod was slight, so much so that Harry almost missed it, but it was the first sign – ever – that the man was actually _listening_ to what he had to say about this. About Grace and his mum and this whole mess.

"You keep acting like the war and you being a spy is the only thing that matters. Well, it's not. _We_ matter. Me and Grace we matter, alright? And what you do and how you treat us, that matters, too."

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, it is not my intention to cause suffering to either of you."

Harry shook his head; "I don't think you want us to suffer. I just don't think you care that we are."

Snape's lips pursed together at that and he held his look for barely a second before his eyes lowered to the ground. After a moment, he drew in a breath and spoke, calmly, not engaging with the accusation.

"You are overwrought, Mr Potter. We will get no further with the lesson tonight."

A blunt dismissal it was then.

Snape stepped away from his desk, rolling up the picture Harry had given to him and tucking it into the inside pocket of his robe, as he began to prepare to leave.

"He's not going to give me a free pass if he notices I'm overwrought."

Snape met his eyes at that.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Harry wasn't sure if he was going to entertain it. If he'd just take it as snark and head on his way. But after a moment, with the slightest tilt of his chin, Snape indicated he go back to the centre of the room.

* * *

Severus hadn't been called to the Dark Lord's side in weeks, the last encounter just a few days into the New Year. He had managed to hold it together, then. But only just.

And he was beginning to doubt whether he would be able to do so, indefinitely, particularly in light of recent events and, so, it was with relief that Severus had accepted the instruction that he was to remain at Hogwarts, undisturbed, until Easter, entirely within Dumbledore's sights, so as not to arouse any suspicion from the Headmaster as to his loyalties.

With the war weighing heavily, and Lily's condition and Grace being so close and, yet, untouchable, Severus' grasp of his own self-control was beginning to wear thin. At a time when he needed it most.

And, it was for that reason, that Harry – who had so suitably _rattled_ him earlier that lesson with his accusations – was able to turn the tide against him and reverse the legilliemency spell cast upon the boy some twenty minutes later.

It could have been any memory. There were many of them, in recent weeks, from those days long past. Days when even their worst imaginations could not have conjured up the scenario they had actually found themselves in now: memories full of smiles and whispers and tender touches and foolish promises.

Those and, of course, the arguments that came beforehand.

" _And what could_ I _give_ you _, Lily? Nothing. A life of lies and deceit."_

" _What do you think I want?"_

" _I think you want a family…Something that I could_ never _have."_

Both Severus and Harry were startled at the one the boy managed to break into.

It was one from long, _long_ ago; another lifetime, it seemed, when Severus had been adamant that nothing could ever come of the two of them. That nothing ever should.

_A life of lies and deceit._ Of course, that would be the one that Harry would see.

When Harry just stood before him, dumbfounded, Severus brushed it off; "Very good, Mr Potter."

Severus turned away, making a show of tidying up his desk. That would be the end of it now, the lesson, for he had had more than enough for one night.

"Why'd you show me that?"

Harry's tone was accusatory, which should not have been surprising considering how he had come to the lesson so eager to pick a fight, but, by this point, Severus was out of patience. So much so that the tone finally led his resolve – carefully maintained for weeks – to snap.

"I _showed_ you nothing."

"What, so it's just a coincidence that _that's_ the memory I manage to break into, right after talking to you about Grace?"

"A coincidence that such a memory may be evoked in light of our recent conversation? Certainly not. Which only serves as a prime example of the benefits of being able to control ones emotions, should circumstances arise which may provoke them."

Harry could only stare at him, in a way that belied his scepticism that Severus was capable of even _having_ emotions.

Severus sighed, shaking his head, and walked around him to stand behind the desk. A physical barrier needed, for what was to come next.

They had skirted around the subject long enough. And if it had come to the point that Harry's – that _his_ – occlumency was becoming compromised then it was something that had to be addressed. The consequences of _not_ doing so, too high of a risk.

"I am at a loss, Mr Potter, as to what it is that you expect of me," Severus began, his voice belying a calmness even if he was, inwardly, just as overwrought as the boy in front of him; "In one instance you claim that if I cared for my daughter I would forgo all reason and abandon my post in order to be by her side; in the other, you claim that to do anything other than maintain my distance is a cruelty. So, what is it to be? If I were willing to bend myself to the will of her brother, what is it that you would have me do?"

Harry seemed entirely flummoxed by the question. And no wonder, for it was unthinkable that Severus would not only ask, but actually take his direction, and any answer he _could_ give was unacceptable. No solution would ever live up to what Harry – to what Severus – believed his sister deserved.

When the silence stretched, Severus went on; "To be ruled by ones emotions, it is a foolish man's weakness. You, Mr Potter, are _entirely_ ruled by your emotions."

Harry glowered at him, but he still said nothing. Not denying the statement and still unable to come up with an acceptable response – to him – to the question that Severus asked.

"But no man is immune to weakness," Severus conceded; "Only once, have I defied concrete logic in favour of following one's desires, and, while I would not go so far as to call it a mistake – I'm sure you know from what you witnessed, to what I'm referring – I am willing to admit the consequences of that decision has led all involved to circumstances which have been…trying."

Harry no longer looked furious. Instead, he seemed to struggle to process what Severus had said.

"Trying."

"Indeed. And you demonstrate one of your _rare_ moments of rationality in your assertions that, in actuality, my daughter would, indeed, be far better off without my presence in her life."

Harry's shook his head, immediately launching a denial. For that was no good answer, no. Not good enough.

"That's not what I said."

"No?"

"I only meant that if you can't be there for her, the way that she needs –"

"Which I can't. You know I cannot. That is the reason you are unable to give me a straight answer to my question; your frustrations are bourne out of a response to a decision that I made years ago. A decision that cannot be undone."

What's done is done. And what _had_ they done?

It was the first time that Severus had really, truly, allowed himself to think it. To regret it. Not Lily, not _them,_ no. How could he? But everything else that had crumbled in the aftermath; ultimately leading to this. Lily gone, for goodness knows how much longer, and Grace, his little girl, left the bear the brunt of his mistakes. And Harry. Even Severus, in all of his certainty that he and Lily would have been a disaster back then, had underestimated just how severely affected this boy would be by that one night. That one choice.

"There is no _good_ solution to our current circumstances, that is why you cannot find one. There are two options, one driven by emotion, the other driven by reason; and I have gone against reason once before," it was the closest Severus would ever come to admitting it, out loud, since he had chosen it; "And that is not a course that I would choose again, especially not now, with the cards stacked so highly against us, and the costs of choosing wrongly too high to possibly bear."

Harry simply stared back at him and Severus wasn't sure if he understood – he supposed he must, to have been rendered speechless – but he wasn't done.

"I cannot cast reason aside and do as I should wish to, now," Severus stated, making his own feelings, his own wishes clear – though, surely, they must have been, for he was a _father,_ despite what else Harry thought of him – "But do not stand there, Harry, and accuse me of not caring for my own child."

A heavy silence fell upon the both of them.

"Consider that your dismissal," Severus finally said; "We have had quite enough revelations, this night."

He did not wait for Harry before he simply strode from the room.

* * *

She was so peaceful, that if Severus allowed himself to forget for a moment, then he could fool himself into believing she was only sleeping.

That this was simply like all those other times before; better times when he would return to their shared home and he would linger, long enough to wait until sleep took hold of her – always against her will – before he would slip back out into the night.

It was in those moments of quiet, of contentment, as she lay at peace beside him, that he was reminded - reassured, even – that everything they were doing and fighting for was worth it. It was a strength that only Lily by his side could provide.

But the world was waiting. Always waiting.

Well.

The world could wait, tonight.

He'd taken to St Mungo's some hours after Harry had lain it all at his feet; his crimes and misdemeanors, his failings as a father. He had tucked the drawing – so innocently created for him – away in his chambers, unable to bear to look at it another moment, and he had come to Lily.

Severus didn't speak. He only looked. He never saw the point in it, of speaking one's thoughts aloud to an unconscious loved one. Particularly when it was trying enough to do so during their waking moments. And besides, what could he say that Lily did not already know?

She already knew it all of him.

And so, he simply lingered, as he had done countless times before, in the shadows by her side.

He did so, as long as he dared – which would never be long _enough_ – before he sighed and turned away, but not before he reached out, hand grasping hers, tightly, in his for a moment.

Severus headed back out into the still darkness of the St Mungo's corridor, ensuring he was alone before he ducked into the quieter passage – one he knew was used almost-exclusively by the House Elves – that lead down to the courtyard, from where he could slip away, unnoticed.

Severus' mind was on Lily – on _them_ ; their memories, their mistakes, their children – as he made his departure which was careless, sloppy – something he could not afford to be – an error that quickly made itself known when he found himself run almost physically into another as they rounded the corner to, unexpectedly, face him.

Both he and the woman stopped, abruptly, each of them startled at the other's unexpected presence in the rarely-used passage.

"Professor Snape!"

Severus only vaguely recognized the woman before him – for it had been years since he had seen her up close – but it took only a second for him to recall and get his bearings.

"Miss Bradbury. This is a surprise."

"Um. Creepy passageway in the middle of the night, yeah," Julia glanced around with a bewildered smile; "Are you lost?"

"I had business with Healer Clay – a project we have been conducting – and must have been turned around."

It was the slightest of flashes – an uncertainty in her expression – that would have easily been missed if Severus were not suddenly on his guard.

Julia gave a smile. One Severus knew was not genuine.

"Well. You won't find him up here, I'm afraid. This is a restricted floor, Sir."

It was basically a dismissal and Severus accepted it; "My apologies, Miss Bradbury."

Julia gave a nod and stepped by him, heading back in the direction that Severus had just come from, but he stayed put and watched her go; stayed long enough to see her glance at him, sideways – an uneasiness in her eyes when she did – as she rounded the corner. The pace of her footsteps increased – ever so slightly – once she was out of his sight, until he heard the open and shut of the door to Lily's corridor.

He should obliviate her.

Severus made to go after her, took a step, but he paused in his intentions – for he would surely have something to say about it if Regulus were to dare raise his wand to Lily – and considered it a moment. Whether or not this was a danger or, as Harry so put it, an inconvenience.

Severus lingered only a moment – it was simple, child's play, even, to explain away – before he carried on with his previous path, down to the courtyard.

Julia was one of theirs, after all. Even if she didn't know it, yet.

* * *

She wasn't alone.

She knew it, even in the darkness.

There was a familiarity. A warmth that surrounded her.

She wanted to reach for it, but she could do nothing but lie still. Lie still until she felt a large, strong hand clasp hers; she tried to grasp it back.

_Don't let go._

But it did and then it was gone.

There were voices, then.

"…a guard on this door, at all times…"

She knew the voice.

" _You_ are just a magnet for trouble, Honey."

Trouble.

The word lingered, over and above anything that came next, as the voice went on, the rest of her senses suddenly coming alive, all at once. She heard and felt the hum of enchantments surrounding her. Smelt the vapours of the potions. The sound of footsteps. The tweet of the birds.

But there was trouble.

She couldn't shake it. There was a panic building within her now. And she shook, and she gasped and she couldn't _breathe._

"Lily?" a hand was on her shoulder; "Lily, Honey. Hey - hey, you're alright. Lily."

She could _see_ all of a sudden, darkness giving way to bright, bright light. And there were dark eyes that she knew, that she trusted, but the panic was still there.

She tried to speak, she managed, but it should have come out as a shout, a cry, a warning, but, instead, it was only a croak.

"Harry."

* * *

Regulus looked up from the parchments he was studying, at the welcome sound of the door to the cottage open and shut.

"Today is a good day," Julia declared, walking in from the hallway and shooting him a smile as she shrugged out of her cloak; "Today is _the best_ of days."

Regulus grinned at her infectious enthusiasm, as she plonked down onto the couch beside him; "Dare I ask, Miss Bradbury?"

"Lily woke up."

Regulus' eyes widened; "She's awake?"

"Well. No, she's back under now. But – hey – that's not unusual. It is a _good_ sign," her smile was bright as she gave him an affectionate push, clearly delighted by his – ahem, _Severus'_ \- contribution; "It's working, the remedy Heart's been giving you."

"I'll get more for you for tonight," Regulus assured her; "I'm going into the Foundation this afternoon."

Julia looked thoughtful at that.

"You still work with Severus Snape, right?"

"Severus?" Regulus frowned, at the unexpected – but not unrelated, even if she didn't realise – mention; "He's a Head in the Research Department."

"So, he's straight up?"

"Straight up?"

"You trust him," Julia clarified, leaning her head in her hand and looking at him – with complete trust in _him_ at the answer; "I mean, you're mates, right, or at least you used to be?"

"Oh. Um. Yes. I trust – why?" Regulus gathered up the parchments on his lap and tossed them onto the table at their feet; "Did something happen?"

"Yeah. It was the weirdest thing; I caught him in the House Elf passage coming out of the restricted ward last night. Goodness knows how he got past the security clearance, but when I spoke to him he said he was there on business with Healer Clay."

Regulus' chin lifted, slightly, because Clay's connections to the Foundation were tight and he knew the error even before she went on.

"But Clay's been on sabbatical ever since New Year. I don't know, don't you think that's weird? He was obviously lying. And Lily's on that ward."

Regulus shifted where he sat, avoiding her eyes for a second, but he knew that was a give-away – Julia was getting good at reading him, now – and forced himself to look back at her, come up with some half-truth, so as to not have to outright lie to her about it.

"Most likely he was there on classified business," Regulus said by way of explanation; "Being the middle of the night, you'd have caught him off-guard. I'm not sure exactly what it is Severus is working on, right now, but it's not unusual for his department to be involved in trials at St Mungo's."

"At 4am?"

"I'd just forget about it," Regulus waved a hand, in what he hoped was a reassuringly dismissive way; "It's probably nothing."

"I don't know, Regulus," Julia was undeterred; "I think you should…I mean, Sirius –" Regulus couldn't help but start at another unexpected mention; "– sorry – but Sirius, he told me that Severus Snape was a Death Eater. Lily rubbished it, back then, but with what's going on with Harry right now…well, there's something not right about it. And what if Sirius was right? Someone with Death Eater connections, hanging around Lily's room? And, I'm guessing you'd probably know if he _did_ have connections, so I'm probably way off…"

"Yes. I would," Regulus conceded, for Julia was well-aware of his own past indiscretions; "It's…I don't think it's something to be worried about."

"Well, I do," Julia said, in a rare show of seriousness; "That's Lily in there. The security's been increased further on the ward, now, but what about the Foundation? I mean, it's a bit of a coincidence, Severus Snape turning back up there the same year that You-Know-Who shows up and manages to blow the roof off the place."

She was so untouched by the war that Regulus forgot, sometimes, how little she knew about any of it.

"Julia. Listen," Regulus said, unable to deflect any longer; "It's not anything you have to worry about."

Julia regarded him, carefully, realising he knew more than he'd let on; "It's not?"

"No. But…I can't say any more than that. It's…"

The tension in her expression relaxed, slightly, when she realised; "It's war business."

"It's war business," he confirmed, with a nod.

"Order business?" her eyes narrowed, curiously.

" _Confidential – "_ Regulus tapped her on the nose, eliciting a smile;" – war business."

"Black – "

"Miss Bradbury," he touched his forehead to hers; "You don't have to trust him. Trust _me_."

Her expression softened at his imploration – even if there was still a hint of concern, there – and she smiled, warmly; "Alright."

He kissed her, welcoming her home – to _his_ home, his rational, pessimistic mind reminded him – and reached for the parchments he had put aside, before he leaned back into the couch and drew Julia back towards him, tucking her up into his side as he always did. It had become a delightful habit, by now; Julia falling asleep in the crook of his arm after a shift at St Mungo's, while he dealt with the monotonous administration required for getting the Foundation back up and running.

It was so – impossibly – domestic.

A circumstance that had been born out of necessity – for he, embarrassingly, was in no fit state to live independently in those early weeks after being discharged from St Mungo's – when Julia had offered to play nursemaid to her ailing…well. Him.

And when he had found his feet again neither he nor she had suggested that things return to the way they were – that she leave – and, so, here she had stayed and he, most definitely, was not complaining.

Nope.

Regulus was quite content to live out life in this fantasy-bubble of their creation a little while longer – a _long_ while longer – and ignore all of that which would chip, chip, chip away at it. Until, finally – unavoidably – the time came when they could ignore it no longer.

* * *

"Parental objection was surely not unexpected, given the nature of the new curriculum Crouch has seen fit to foist upon their children," Severus pointed out, declining Dumbledore's offer of sweets with a raise of the hand.

"Hm. Indeed. And would you have such objections, yourself, Severus, if you were in the shoes of said parents?"

Severus shifted where he sat, not entirely sure if Dumbledore's question was hypothetical or if he was – in his irritating way – prodding at his connection with Harry.

"I do not believe that censorship – or wilful ignorance – is a valid way of maintaining order. If the Ministry had not been so keen to eradicate all knowledge of the Dark Arts in the first place following the First War, we may not have found ourselves in quite so precarious a situation as we have, now."

"Ah. Then you approve of the new curriculum requirements?"

"I might if I were privy to the details –" _and if the students in question were not such dunderheads,_ his mind added; "Though whether or not I approve is redundant. The curriculum outline is a matter for Lupin."

Lupin, who – along with the Heads of Houses – had been bombarded with owl post from concerned parents demanding to know what, exactly, Hogwarts hoped to achieve by filling their children's heads with this knowledge of the Dark Arts, while – at the same time – suspending the Quidditch season for the remainder of the school year. Indeed, it was unlikely that the sport would resume at all, until the war concluded, if the Ministry-mandated Duelling Club were to continue at the current pace.

"As it so happens, Remus' experiences of the Dark Arts are not quite so developed as to match the new Ministry requirements; I am sure some assistance in any areas of weakness would be most welcome."

"I can only presume you are joking, Headmaster, considering you have continuously rejected me from that post for years on end. And if you honestly believe Lupin – one of your own soldiers, I might add – to be so incompetent in defence as to need my input, then I question your judgement in assigning him, in the first place."

Dumbledore handed him a parchment, one that had been lying between them unnoticed on his desk, for the duration of the meeting; "As you see, the new Ministry requirements for the course are, somewhat, challenging. Even to the most experienced of wizards."

Severus eyed the list, reading off a few of those that stood out the most.

"Unforgivable Curses; Necromancy; Maleficium; Sacrificial Rituals and Blood Magic," Severus cleared his throat, placing the parchment back upon the desk, quite certain that some of these branches were unknown, even, to the Dark Lord, himself; "Well. Clearly, Crouch has lost his mind."

"Indeed?"

"No thirteen-year-old should be exposed – must less trusted – with such knowledge. Frankly, Crouch would be hard-pressed to find _anyone_ with such an extensive awareness of the Dark Arts living, following the Ministry purges."

"Unfortunately, he is not above trying. It was initially suggested by him that a Ministry-appointed teacher of the subject be brought in to do so, alongside Miss Tonks; as is, he is currently satisfied with my reassurances that Remus is more than capable."

"Which you, yourself, have just stated is not the case," Severus pointed out, but, much as he did not want to admit it, it was hardly in his – or, rather, Harry and Grace's – best interests for Lupin to be cast out of his teaching post and removed from Hogwarts at this point in time.

A fact which Dumbledore was entirely aware of.

Not that Severus would be foolish enough, in the first place, to believe that this was merely a request.

"A syllabus which meets the new Ministry requirements, while maintaining the integrity of the school; I'm certain it is a challenge yourself and Remus can overcome," Dumbledore stated.

"Splendid. I shall be sure to prioritise that, over and above my duties on the field and Potter's occlumency schedule this Easter."

"Ah. There will be no need to trouble yourself on the latter of those, Severus. In fact, your focus ought to be entirely upon the field mission throughout the duration of the holidays. We are unlikely to have another such opportunity for close observation until the summer."

"I hardly think allowing Potter to go a full two weeks without these tutorials is wise at this time, Headmaster, particularly now that progress is actually being made."

"Quite right, Severus. I shall take over Harry's lessons for the duration of your absence."

Severus was silenced by the statement – an offer which Lily would be less than thrilled about, for certain – as it made perfect sense.

"Very well. If that is all?"

Dumbledore gave Severus a smile and a nod, another offer of a sweet, before Severus headed from the room – the Headmaster having got what he wanted, as ever.

The Dark Lord was likely to want to keep him close those two weeks of leave from his teaching responsibilities and, with the occlumency lessons taken care of, that, at least, meant there would be one less thing to be concerned with.

But there was another, somewhat, peculiar circumstance which also had to be dealt with regarding the holidays. A circumstance which – despite having been a father almost six years, now – Severus had yet to have to deal with.

* * *

"What with my expected absence and the Full Moon set to fall upon the Easter weekend –" Severus fired a curse, "– it makes the situation regarding Grace and Harry somewhat…undesirable."

"Undesirable," Regulus repeated with a grin and a quick, teasing lift of his eyebrows – obviously enjoying this – and Severus was quite happy to flick another curse his way, that the other only just managed to block.

Regulus' corresponding hex was blocked with ease.

"During these consultations with Lupin –" Severus blocked another hex, firing a curse back Regulus' way; "- I would be more than happy to enquire as to any available spots –" Severus cut off with a hiss, when a stinging hex got his arm, and shot a more ferocious one back; "- in his Duelling Tutorials, if you think that would be of benefit to you, Regulus?"

Regulus snorted, firing another spell his way and _ducking_ to take cover from Severus' corresponding one; "Have to say, you're not doing a – umph!" Regulus was thrown onto his back – hit – but he recovered, quickly, and fired one, two spells Severus' way from where he lay on the floor – the second hitting the bookcase behind where Severus stood and, of course, blowing it up – which made _him_ duck for cover.

"…a great job –" Regulus finished up, from where he was still sprawled on the ground; " – of convincing me here."

"Regulus," Severus said, straightening back up with a disapproving glare in the direction of the rubble-that-was-once-the-bookcase; "That was pathetic."

"Foolproof, actually. _Confringo_. It's never let me down yet."

Severus lifted his eyes heavenward, as Regulus got to his feet, wincingly.

"You will get nowhere if you do not break this juvenile habit."

"I'm using the environment to my advantage," Regulus said, with a sweeping gesture around the room, before grinning; "I call that holistic fighting."

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Harry and Grace, they're always welcome," Regulus finally put Severus out of his misery, walking in the direction of the desk in, seeming, defeat; "Malachi's birthday falls Easter weekend this year; timing's perfect."

"They cannot leave the premises. While Lupin's paternity of Grace has been an assumption easily made and swallowed by those at the Castle, we are not yet certain that the Dark Lord has followed suit. I'll know more at Easter but a suggestion that she and Harry have come to spend the holidays - even just a weekend - with you just might undo that progress."

"Then why send them? The professors remaining at Hogwarts surely wouldn't mind having Harry's sister accompany him for a few days until Lupin recovers. And Harry could keep Grace entertained. Or, more likely, vice versa," Regulus added the last with an amused, knowing smile.

"After what happened last Easter? Certainly not. Both need constant, adult supervision – someone whom Harry is willing to approach with honesty – and there will be no such person at the Castle that weekend."

Although, if one were to really think about, perhaps Harry would consider the Castle lacking in such a person even under normal circumstances. But Severus pushed that thought aside.

"No chance of Lily's recovery by then?"

Severus shook his head, even if he was reminded of the little spark of hope that Regulus had given him on arrival; "Even if she were to have regained full consciousness, she's unlikely to have been discharged. The full extent of her injuries will not be known until she wakes fully; even then, the care of Harry and Grace is unlikely to prove beneficial to her recuperation."

"Full house it is then. We'll make it a party," Regulus stated, clearly already warming to the idea of the Black Cottage filled with people that Easter. A rare occurrence, indeed.

Severus gave a nod of concession, or, he supposed, thanks before he indicated at the middle of the room.

"I hope you don't believe that was an adequate session."

Regulus poured a drink, smiling to himself as he did so.

"Oh. I'm just warming up."

* * *

There was an excited energy within the Great Hall when Severus stepped into it, as spells fired back and forth between the students who had been assembled for the last Duel Club session of the term.

"Look, Harry, I drew you a picture!"

Severus did his best not to turn at the sound of Grace's voice as he passed.

"Grace, you're supposed to stay behind the desk!" came Harry's response.

"But look, it's our house, see! And there's you and Mummy and me. I drew you on your firebolt, too."

"Yeah. It's real nice, Grace, but – you've gotta go back, okay?"

"But – hi Professor Snape!" her voice lit up.

Severus allowed a casual glance her way – saving face – but was saved from having to respond further by Lupin's appearance at his side; "Grace, you heard your brother. Back you go, now."

Grace looked at Severus – directly at him – and for a second her eyes were bright and pleased to see him, but then they glazed somewhat, the way they had the last time, and before she had a chance to refocus Severus swept away and made his way up to the top table.

"…mustn't come out from behind here, or you'll have to spend these sessions in the library with…" he could hear Lupin saying, as he led Grace back to her designated seated area.

Severus walked around the back of the table, where he was certain they would be out of earshot of the pupils - who were much too preoccupied tossing amateur curses and hexes at one another throughout the room to pay them any attention, in any case – and placed the wooden box of phials, parchments, and various other materials he had gathered upon the top table.

"I have gathered what I could in the short timescale we were granted," Severus stated, without preamble, when Lupin reappeared at his side a moment later; "I trust there will be enough to establish a curriculum diverse enough to cover the main areas highlighted by the Ministry, at least enough to do until the summer. Blood Magic and Ritual Sacrifice, I'm afraid, will have to wait until next year's timetabling."

It was difficult not to sound sarcastic, as he said it: Blood Magic and Ritual Sacrifice.

Good grief.

"Thank you, Severus, I appreciate this," Lupin said, in his newfound almost-obsequious way. He had been making a good show of deference towards him, ever since Severus had gone to him at the beginning of the year, and it was a behaviour that only served to grate. Immensely.

Severus placed his hand on the wooden box of Wolfsbane phials; "I trust you remember how to prepare this."

"I do. Thank you."

Severus shot him a scowl at the added thanks – as if the concoction were not something he had been providing Lupin with for years now – and went on, his volume lowering somewhat, despite their distance from anyone else in the room; "Regulus has agreed to accommodate Harry and Grace Easter Weekend – " Severus went on and he couldn't believe it had come to this, that he was discussing the _childcare_ arrangements of his children with Remus Lupin, of all people; " – he shall come to collect them the Thursday evening, after curfew, when there is little chance of their departure being noticed."

A clatter to the left of them drew their attention. Severus expected to see a student - or multiple students - and whatever carnage they had left behind in their wake of a spell-gone-wrong; instead, Nymaphadora Tonks - as clumsy now as she had been as a student, it seemed - was quickly picking up and mending the contents of a chest she had smashed into during a demonstration.

Severus rolled his eyes.

Lupin smiled.

"Has there been any news on Lily?"

Severus looked at Lupin, sharply, at the question, before his eyes darted back out at the students – who were much too preoccupied to notice that he was even there, much less attempt to eavesdrop – but he was immediately on his guard.

"You know better than to speak of it, Lupin."

"Surely there must be some change, by now, but Harry has heard nothing," Lupin wasn't to be put off.

"She woke."

Lupin stared at him a moment.

"She's awake?"

"No. She woke. Once. Last week. There is progress."

Severus pushed down the returning pang of disappointment that had risen the week before, when he had considered if he'd stayed just a little longer that night, he might have been there for it. But, then, that wasn't, exactly, practical. That she should see him and call for him, after he were gone, without realising what she was doing was too much of a risk.

The momentary delight, evident in Lupin's expression, vanished into bewilderment; "Harry didn't say anything –"

"Harry doesn't know."

Bewilderment dealt with; Lupin now looked annoyed. That was a welcome change – a taste of normality, even – after weeks of _'yes, Severus', 'thank you, Severus', 'as you please, Severus'._

"Why doesn't he know?"

"I thought it better to spare him the disappointment, should the current method of treatment fail to garner the desired results."

Lupin almost rolled his eyes – almost – but not quite, instead resuming his infuriatingly reasoning tone; "He would be disappointed either way, Severus. I hardly think concealment of facts – particularly ones that might offer him some hope or comfort – is conductive to establishing a trusting relationship –"

"Enough," Severus interrupted him, with a glance around the room before he straightened up; "While I concede that I have now found myself in your debt, Lupin, do not make the mistake of thinking that we have in some – in _any_ way, in fact – established a kinship. Particularly not one that warrants your opinion on – " _anything; " –_ how I choose to deal with this matter."

The 'my family' went without saying, and Lupin suitably - surprisingly - backed off.

Severus glanced in Grace's direction before he had a chance to stop himself, only to find her eyes entirely upon him and she smiled and waved in his direction when she noticed him looking. Severus inclined his head, slightly, in turn, unable to ignore her completely but he turned his back once he had done so, so as not to repeat the mistake.

Lupin glanced between the two of them, with obvious concern, which only served to make Severus bristle.

"Have you noticed anything peculiar regarding her behaviour?" Severus asked.

"Other than right now? Are you sure it worked?"

"It worked."

"Maybe it's wearing off."

"It does not wear off, Lupin. It is a suppression of memories. Any…emotional ties that had previously been established remain and can be triggered, under certain circumstances."

"They seem to have been quite easily triggered, in this case," Lupin pointed out, before giving a smile and a wave in Grace's direction, while Severus continued to present his back to her.

"That can be the case where the attachment is…" Severus broke off when Lupin met his eyes, he glanced away as he finished; "Particularly strong."

Severus cleared his throat, before indicating the parchments; "I expect to depart this evening, following Harry's final occlumency lesson. Should you require any further information, try Regulus when he arrives next week."

Severus didn't wait for Lupin to respond and made his way from the room, carefully keeping his eyes ahead and not on the little girl in the corner of the room.

* * *

"…therefore it is with regrets that this year's Spring Fling shall not be taking place…the situation will be reassessed with regards to the summer season…Summer Gala likely to go ahead…etcetera, etcetera," Regulus muttered and waved a hand, before handing the parchment over to Narcissa and taking the seat opposite her, on the other side of his desk.

"Well. It is only logical under the circumstances," Narcissa pointed out, just as a house elf appeared with a 'pop' at her side and set about arranging the refreshments on the desk; "It's unlikely that such an event, so soon after the Foundation reopening its doors, would garner enough of a crowd to offset the expenses."

"Well. Feel free to take the time, Cissy," Regulus said, forgoing the tea the house elf had just finished setting up, and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, instead; "I'm sure you must be eager to spend the time at home, now that the Manor is no longer the lonely place that it has been in recent years."

Narcissa met his eyes.

Regulus held her look as he lifted his glass for a drink.

It was the first time he had seen her since the incident at New Year – he was surprised she had turned up to the meeting at all, if he were honest, but, then, she was likely still under orders – and if Narcissa thought he would let it slide, what had happened go unmentioned, now that they found themselves reunited once more under the Foundation's newly rebuilt walls, then his cousin was not to be so lucky.

"Funny thing this; Lucius could have caught me," Regulus finally said, when the silence stretched, taking another drink before putting his glass back down on the desk; "He could have killed me. But, he didn't. Can't imagine why."

"Regulus."

"He had no qualms sending the Dark Lord after me, before, after all."

Narcissa glanced away, at the nod to the fact that she had – unknowingly, of course, but nonetheless – set about the events that landed her husband in Azkaban in her attempts to save him some years ago.

"I know you asked him not to, Cissy. I don't know why he _listened_. But I'm grateful; well, as grateful as a person can be, to someone complicit in trying to murder them and a fourteen-year-old boy."

"You know why I'm here, Regulus."

"I know why you're here, yes. What I don't know is why you're _there_."

"Regulus."

"Betraying the Dark Lord right beneath his nose? You're lucky to still be sitting here. I don't know how you managed to escape his scrutiny – I guess his plan worked out so well that it was unnecessary – but you can't count on being overlooked forever."

"Would you rather I had said nothing?"

"Of course not. Cissy, I meant what I said before; I can help you."

"You're so naïve. You think you can save the world. You can't save us, Reg; you can't even save yourself."

"I can get you out. I can protect you and Draco."

"My place is with my husband."

"You think Lucius wants you there? You think he wants his son seeing that?"

"All Lucius wants is for his family to live to see the other side of this war. Do you honestly think the best chance of that happening is with you?"

Regulus gave a wry smile.

Narcissa nodded. She looked regretful when she spoke, but the words were said with certainty.

"He is going to find you, Regulus. There's only so much that I – and Severus –" their eyes met; " – can do to delay that from happening. And don't fool yourself as to my intentions; my motives are the same as my husband's. I'm protecting my family, not aligning myself with the mudbloods and half-breeds you seek to appease. You just so happen to be part of that family, much as you'd wish to forget it, so, yes; I asked my husband to spare my baby cousin."

Regulus chuckled; "You say that as if I'm a foolish child who needs to be protected."

"Perhaps not a child; but a fool that needs to be protected, yes."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, smiling fondly at her, as she went on.

"You got caught. You should be out of sight. Instead, you taunt him with your Foundation and your success; throwing parties and funding research and plucking five-year-olds from the nest to educate them in the ways of the wizarding world, all in defiance of him and what he is attempting to do. Do you have any idea what he plans to do to you when he finally gets his hands on you?"

"Oh, I have a better idea of it than you, dear cousin," Regulus stated, lifting his glass, and taking another drink; "A fate that awaits me, regardless of whether or not I spend my life in shadows. And I do so like the sun."

"Oh, don't we all know it, Regulus," Narcissa rolled her eyes, exasperation at his antics showing; "But do not sit there and tell me that _I_ am the fool for taking a risk when you do all you can to ensure his ire can never be diluted by time or distance."

"The Dark Lord neither forgets, nor forgives," Regulus finished off his drink; "That is the way of it. Our best – our only – chance is his elimination."

Narcissa snorted – most undignified, most un-Cissy-like – and shook her head; "That will never happen."

"Hm. I wouldn't be so sure."

Narcissa was almost smirking now; "And are you to be the great hero to save us all? I needn't fear, then."

Regulus smiled at her, raising his eyebrows, but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he redirected their attention to other matters regarding the re-opening.

For with Malachi due back from school the next day, and Julia waiting for him, the last thing he wished to be dwelling on right now was his own certain demise.

Not when he had inadvertently found himself, finally, part of a life more than worth living.

* * *

With the term drawing to a close, Harry had spent the better part of the last week either in Duel Club, occupying Grace or in a state of deep meditation – he was, actually, not that bad at it by now – in his attempts to get his emotions in check.

He had felt rotten after his run in with Snape the week before.

It was the first – the only – time that Snape had ever let Harry see it; the grief he felt behind the – infuriatingly – stoic mask that he presented to him, to everyone, when he had finally admitted – shown, Harry, even – that he knew that he and his mum should never have gotten together in the first place.

It was something that his mum, that Mr. Black, even Remus, had never said out loud to Harry. Not once. Even the year before when he'd struggled – to put it mildly – to process it all no one had ever told him that what Harry felt was okay, that he was _right_. He was just told to deal with it. To get over it. There were far more important things to worry about than his little world, after all.

It wasn't a mistake, Snape had told him. It was a weakness. _His_ weakness. He'd loved – still did – his mum enough, so much so, that she – goodness knows _how –_ had actually managed to break past the stone wall exterior of him and made him defy all good sense and reason to be with her.

He loved and gave into it.

Until last week, Harry could see Snape only as the human _embodiment_ of all things good sense and reason – to the expense of all else.

Harry glanced at Snape, uncertainly, now as the Potions Master stepped passed him and made his way up to the desk at the front of the room.

Harry hadn't known what to do with it – at first – the glimpse that Snape had given him the week before. The revelation that Snape wasn't this emotionless robot, programmed only to care about Project War, who could drop any one of them – even his own daughter – with a wave of his wand and the utterance of a spell if it served to further that cause.

It was easier that way. It was easier to be angry, to blame him for all that had happened – he couldn't blame his mum right now, not while she was lying in St Mungo's – if he didn't care and if he thought that what Harry was feeling was stupid.

But Snape didn't think or feel any of those things.

He loved his mum so much he couldn't deny her. He loved Grace so much he had to walk away.

And, as Harry watched him gathering up the items on his desk, tucking parchments away into drawers, as he prepared to finish up for the holidays, Snape suddenly seemed very human.

Snape lifted his eyes from the desk, addressing him; "It has been arranged that you and your sister will spend Easter weekend at the Black Cottage."

"Oh," Harry frowned. Malachi had mentioned nothing of that during their – admittedly – brief encounters the past few days; "Why?"

"Professor Lupin will be indisposed that weekend," he indicated with a slight lift of his hand in the direction of the window, not looking at him as he reached and rolled up some parchments; "The moon cycle will not be in his favour."

"It's just one night. Why can't you?"

Snape met his eyes, looking duly unimpressed at the – apparent – suggestion.

"I mean, _I_ can look after Grace; if we need something, I'll come and get you. Like I would any other professor."

"I would have thought you'd be glad to spend the weekend with your friend."

Harry hesitated at that. Actually, while he and Malachi had finally – finally – started talking again, Harry wasn't so sure Malachi would want Harry anywhere near his dad after what had happened. Harry knew Malachi hadn't really forgiven him – maybe he couldn't – for it, even if he was making a good show of pretending he had.

"Just seems like a bit of a hassle. And I…I wouldn't want to bother Mr. Black. After…"

"Mr. Black is more than willing," Snape assured him, heading towards Harry and handing him the parchments he had rolled up; "And a change of scenery and company will do yourself and your sister some good."

"What are these?" Harry took the parchments held out with a frown.

"Assignments to be completed by your next occlumency session to commence with me in the new term; the Headmaster shall be taking over these lessons for the duration of the holidays."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry looked up, sharply; "Why not you?"

Snape looked exasperated at the continuing questions; "I will be indisposed."

Harry felt his heart sink.

"You…you're going back?"

Snape glanced in the direction of the door before answering; "I never left."

Obviously, Harry knew that. Otherwise there would have been no reason for Grace's memories to be wiped, if what had happened to his mum had finally caused Snape to snap and defect. A pipedream if there ever was one.

"Oh," was all that Harry could find to say in response, as he fingered the parchments.

"Do try and stay out of trouble, Mr. Potter," Snape said, an obvious dismissal, before brushing on by him and going back to his desk.

Harry watched him go for a second, unable to muster up anything further to say – a question or a retort – and so he just walked to the door, stopping only to lift his schoolbag up as he made his way out. He glanced back over his shoulder when he reached the doorway, at the man who now busied himself behind the desk, and Harry struggled to push down a sense of rising dread that was building up within him at the understanding of just where Snape was to be spending the holidays.

Harry headed out and made his way down the corridor; but his unease only rose with each step until, finally, at the end of the corridor he abruptly turned and marched back down to the office.

The door was still open.

"I'm sorry."

It was blurted from his lips the second he stepped over the threshold, before Harry could even really make sense of what it was that he had come back to say.

Snape's eyes flicked from the desk to meet his from where he was still stood at the front of the room, nothing about his stance betraying any surprise at Harry's return and outburst.

Did Harry want to say he was sorry?

He supposed he did.

Harry pushed the door to the office shut; "I'm sorry," he repeated; "I didn't mean what I said to you last week."

Snape glanced away for the briefest of moments, straightening up, and when he looked back at Harry his arms came up to cross over his chest. It was almost as if he were bracing himself for what were to come next.

"I don't think we'd be better off without you. I don't. And I…I've been mad at you, alright? I've been mad. And I didn't know why, because I kept telling myself that you didn't owe me anything. That I shouldn't be angry with you because it didn't matter; you and me. We don't matter to each other. But…that's not true."

Harry finally admitted it. A truth he had been denying for months.

"You're practically my stepfather. But, even before I knew that, I trusted you. Maybe I still do. But every time I think that I can, or that I do, you do something crazy – or something crazy happens – like you turn out to be a Death Eater using my blood for reviving rituals; or I talk to you about my dad and Sirius and you tell my mum; or you're Grace's _dad_ and you give me my memory of my dad back and you take my sister's of you away and you…you walked away from her. Mum's gone and you walked away."

Snape shook his head, clearly not unaffected by what Harry was saying, and made to speak but Harry carried on, stopping him because he knew what he was going to say.

"And I get it, okay? I understand _why._ I…It just blows, alright. I understand why you have to do what you do, but it blows. Because she needs you. _We_ need you. But I know…I want you to know, that I know it's hard for you, too."

Rather than taking any sort of solace or comfort from Harry's outburst, Snape looked more guarded that ever; eyeing him as if one would an angry serpent, as he stood with his arms across his chest at the other side of the room.

Harry sighed, glancing away, and tried to keep his own exasperation from rising; "Look. I'm going to ask you to do something and it's something that you have to do. No excuses."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the statement, clearly finding his feet in light of Harry's change of tone; "And what might that be, Mr. Potter?"

"Don't die."

The statement, the _order_ , hung over them in the silence.

Snape eyed Harry from where he stood – no longer so guarded, no longer so cold – and just when Harry thought that would be it, the man finally spoke.

"I'll do my best."

For the first time in months, Harry gave him a smile.

"I know you will, Sir."

Harry made to go, turned away from him, but then he paused, the wish to make Snape know that he wasn't _alone_ when he was out there coming upon him – strangely and suddenly – and then Harry drew in a breath and turned back around, heading up to the desk.

Snape just watched him, arms still crossed, as he approached.

Harry reached into his robes, feeling for the rolled-up picture that Grace had given him at the Duel Club just before coming here. It wasn't a big deal to Harry, really. Grace drew him pictures all the time – had done since she ever could – but it would be a big deal to Snape, Harry knew.

Harry unrolled it, placing it before Snape on the desk.

It was a picture of the house – as best a five-year-old could recreate, anyway – and stick people of his mum and him and Grace were in front of it.

Snape simply looked at it.

Harry watched him for a second. A second was long enough. He caught it; that little flicker of emotion in Snape's eyes as he looked at the place they both called home.

Snape met his eyes, slowly. Gratitude – _guarded_ gratitude, of course – was there when he did.

And Harry gave him another smile, before he turned and headed from the room.


	64. April 1995: Written in the Stars

"I suppose I should count myself lucky that our time together was not long enough for my heart to shatter completely upon your departure, Miss Bradbury."

Julia chuckled, rolling her eyes, as she zipped up the bag she had just finished packing; "That you should, Mr. Black."

Regulus placed a hand upon his chest, grinning at her from where he sat on the bed; "Whatever will I do with myself in your absence?"

"Oh, I'm sure your son will be happy to keep your hands tied," Julia remarked, as she stepped into the space in front of him, draping an arm over each of his shoulders; "I dare say you'll barely even notice I've gone."

Regulus laughed.

"I doubt the latter," he said, before stealing a kiss; "Not so much the first."

"I'd better go," Julia said, before reaching and hoisting the bag up over her shoulder; "Lest we see a repeat of last Christmas."

She began to turn around, as Regulus sprung to his feet, indicating for the bag.

"Here. I can get that."

"Ah. You have stalled this long enough, Black," Julia said, turning back with a smile and a hand to his chest, holding him in place.

"Well. You can't blame a man for trying, hmm?" he remarked, rocking forward slightly on his feet, and Julia gave a hum of laughter and the hand on his chest curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, before she claimed his lips with hers.

Now.

 _That_ was a kiss.

Regulus reached for her, keen for it go on, but Julia drew back with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile; "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

She turned and headed from the room – from the house – and left him to it, to get everything sorted out for Malachi's return.

Not that much sorting needed to be done.

And while he was less than thrilled that Julia had now moved out – not that they had ever really spoken about or properly acknowledged the fact that she had moved _in –_ to make way for his son's return, Regulus was more than just a little eager to have his boy back for the Easter break.

As such, the door had barely clicked shut behind her, when Regulus pulled on his cloak and made the short journey to Hogwarts to collect him.

There was a buzz in the air, the excitement of the start of the spring holidays filling the halls, as he made his way through and he gave polite smiles and nods to the students who looked his way – some with ire and some with awe – and did his best to keep his eye out for a certain Miss Grace Potter, so as to be able to avoid her if he spotted her nearby.

"Dad!"

Malachi was waiting just the other side of the door to the Great Hall, bag at his feet as if he'd been waiting for hours, and Regulus frowned and glanced at the timepiece, for he was certain he was early.

"Oh. You're ready to go?"

"Yeah," Malachi nodded, lifting his bag; "Let's go."

There was no time to waste for his son, it seemed, as Regulus was forced to quicken his pace to keep up with him; in and out of the Castle within minutes.

"What's the rush, Son?"

Malachi just shrugged.

Well. That wouldn't do.

Regulus put an arm around his shoulders; "What do you say we head on into muggle London for the afternoon?"

Malachi met his eyes, before giving him a smile.

* * *

Harry was nervous.

He didn't know why, really, as it wasn't as if he didn't know Dumbledore pretty well.

And obviously he could be trusted.

But the thought of another person riffling through his mind and memories at will – for Harry was certain his recent progress with Snape wasn't going to be enough to stop Dumbledore from getting in – made him uneasy. Almost as uneasy as he had felt at the beginning of the occlumency lessons, when Snape had first introduced it to him, which was odd as he didn't even really care anymore about Snape looking during their sessions.

He guessed from Snape, there wasn't anything he had to hide; they shared the same secrets.

Or maybe he just trusted him.

He'd already conceded as much, just the night before.

"How come you've got to go to lessons when it's the holidays? No one else does," Grace asked, when Harry announced it was time he get going.

Harry pushed aside the nervousness he felt, pulling his sweater over his head; "It's just extra stuff with Dumbledore. For fun."

"For fun?" Grace looked sceptical but before she could ask anything else, Harry ruffled her hair and got to his feet.

"I'll be back soon, alright."

He got to his feet, heading to the door of Remus' chambers to leave, but when he pulled open the door he was halted by the presence of someone else on the other side.

Nymphadora Tonks.

She had obviously been standing there for a bit, and looked surprised to suddenly be faced with him, as she shifted from foot to foot, arms clutching a few boxes of – what appeared to be – games in front of her; "Oh, Harry. Hey!"

"Uh…Prof…Miss Tonks," Harry was surprised to see her – though, he supposed, he shouldn't be, going by all the lovey-dovey eyes she and his Uncle Remus had been giving one another the past few weeks – and he called over his shoulder; "Uncle Remus!"

"Oh, I wasn't –" Tonks waved a hand, almost dismissively, looking reddened and almost like she wanted to bolt all of a sudden, but before she could Remus appeared behind him.

"Tonks," Remus smiled, obviously pleased to see her; "Um. Hi. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Everything's fine. I just…I just thought, maybe you'd like a hand, you know, entertaining Grace? I, uh…I brought board games," she held up the boxes she clutched in her hands, giving them a little shake as if to entice him to play.

One of the boxes slipped from her hands, falling to the ground with a clatter, and various bits and pieces from inside the box scattered at their feet.

Harry fought not to laugh – her real reason for turning up obvious – and stepped around her as she thrust the other two boxes into Remus' arms and knelt down to gather up the other, blushing so hard that even her hair had turned red.

"Well, I gotta get to this thing. But Grace would love that. Right Uncle Remus?"

Remus looked uncertain – even _shy –_ but he still smiled from where he was now crouched beside Tonks on the floor, helping tidy up the mess, and as Harry rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, he caught sight of Tonks following him and disappearing on into Remus' chambers.

Harry's unease has pretty much left him, driven away by amusement at Tonks' attempted courtship of his Uncle Remus, as he grinned and chuckled intermittently as he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

It was so odd, really, to even see Remus with a girl. He'd never shown any interest or ever mentioned any girlfriends in all the years that Harry had known him. Mind you, he realised, his mum had been involved with Snape all that time and Harry had been none the wiser; and Mr. Black hadn't exactly flaunted his relationship with Julia, either, and he'd seen them together tons since he was a kid.

Maybe Harry was just blind to stuff like that.

Or Remus and Tonks were just too slap bang _obvious_.

Within a few minutes, Harry was on the staircase and entering Dumbledore's office.

"Ah. Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore's smile was immediate, from where he sat behind his desk, and Harry couldn't help but return it. His smiles were always so kind and warm; not exactly something Harry was used to when it came to his occlumency lessons.

"Evening, Professor."

"I have to apologise for the inconvenience of imposing these lessons upon you, Harry, while your friends are free to enjoy the holidays," Dumbledore said, as Harry took a seat, and he lifted the jar of sweets on his desk, indicating Harry take some; "Unfortunately, present circumstances demand it."

"It's no problem, Sir," Harry shook his head, immediately, and took a few of the sweets, popping one into his mouth; "I want to do them. I know they're important."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, looking at him almost proudly, and Harry felt himself puff up, unconsciously, with pride and pleasure at having managed to gain the Headmaster's approval.

"Well. In that case, shall we begin?"

* * *

Malachi was glad to be home.

If he were honest, he hadn't even wanted to go back to Hogwarts at all once the winter break had come to an end. His dad had still been in St Mungo's – him sleeping in the chair by his side every night – but even that had been preferable to returning to school.

He'd never much liked Hogwarts anyway.

He didn't want to leave his dad.

He didn't want to go sleep in the dorms and hang out in the Common Room with the kids of the people who'd almost killed him.

And he really didn't want to see Harry.

But his dad had insisted and Julia had offered – _promised_ – that she'd take care of him while he was away – and his dad had done nothing to hide his own delight at _that_ offer – so he'd reluctantly packed his bags and gone back to school.

It was the _worst_ three months he'd ever spent there.

But at least – from what he had seen in the few hours since they'd arrived home from London – his dad was fine now. And things were, pretty much, back to normal.

Except, well, they _weren't_. The house seemed different. Weird, even, though not, necessarily, bad. The cups were put away facing down, instead of up; the blinds were pulled up, instead of slanted; the towels were actually folded; there was a faint, feminine smell in the bathroom.

And it was very, very clean.

"Where's Julia?" he asked his dad, as he took a seat at the kitchen counter opposite where he was preparing dinner.

"Hm?" his dad looked up from the carrots he was chopping.

"Julia. She's obviously been living here."

"What makes you say that?"

"The house. It's all girly."

"How is it girly?"

"It smells like flowers. And it's clean."

His dad touched the tip of the knife to his lips, making a show of thinking about it; "We do have a house elf, funnily enough."

"Kreacher doesn't clean," Malachi shot him a look and his dad grinned, carrying on with prepping the veg in front of him, which was only further evidence of their less than efficient house elf.

"You know, I'm not gonna forget about this, Dad."

"What's that?"

"How quick you were to send me back to school so you could have your girlfriend come stay with you."

His dad chuckled, shaking his head; "I sent you back to school because you belong in school," he put the knife down, looking at him properly; "And yes, Julia has been staying here. Does that bother you?"

"Has she been in my room?"

"Why would she be in your room?"

"Then why would I care?"

"You cared at Christmas, you cheeky little sod," his dad ruffled his hair, before giving him a playful shove; "Pass those onions."

Malachi did.

"Where is she now?"

"She's at home," his dad carried on chopping.

"Why?"

"Because that's where she lives."

Malachi glanced around the kitchen. It _did_ look different. Even his _dad_ seemed different. He wasn't so tense – not that Malachi had ever really thought he'd seemed tense before – instead, he seemed relaxed. Content.

_Happy._

Malachi had never really considered, before, that his dad wasn't actually happy.

But, then, he did wonder about it in the past, how his dad dealt with the time when Malachi was away at school, certain that his ever-playful father must have been lonely, here, by himself.

"You didn't have to send her away just because I was coming home," Malachi eventually said, more seriously this time.

His dad met his eyes, looking at him carefully; "Yeah?"

Malachi smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah."

His dad smiled.

"Um. Just make sure you put a silencing charm on your room at night or something."

"Malachi," his dad's previous warm gaze was replaced with a look of exasperation.

"What?" Malachi chuckled, laughing at his dad's blush.

"No jokes like that when she's here," his dad pushed the chopped vegetables into the pot at his side.

"Who's joking, Dad?" Malachi retorted. Because he certainly _wasn't._

His dad lifted the dish towel that was lying on the counter, chucking it at Malachi face; "Let's just leave it you and me, Son."

"I'm just messing with you, Dad," Malachi said, laughingly, throwing the dish towel back at him; "I wanted to see her, anyway; she's cool."

That part Malachi was sure about, even if he still wasn't quite so sure how he felt about his dad feeling the same way. Thoughts of his mum were never too far behind.

"That right, hm?" his dad put the pot on the stove, flicking his wand to start the cooking charm.

"Yeah. I wanted to ask her some stuff," Malachi shrugged; "You know. Muggle stuff; she's muggleborn, mind?"

"Mhm," his dad nodded, getting that same uncomfortable look that he tried to hide whenever Malachi brought up muggles; "Well, I'll see if she wants to join us next weekend then. Merlin knows, I could do with the reinforcements once Harry and Grace show up and you three are wreaking havoc on the place."

Malachi frowned; "Harry and Grace are coming? Why?"

"They needed a responsible, parental figure for the weekend, and I stepped up to the task."

"You mean Professor Lupin was desperate."

Malachi ducked his dad's swipe with a laugh.

"Didn't Harry tell you they were coming?"

"No but I hardly see Harry anymore; there's this new club they're making us do at school. The Duel Club. Four afternoons a week and it takes us right up to curfew. That's the only time I see him and we're just firing spells at each other. I think they're trying to get us ready to fight in the war. Well, some of us, anyway."

"Is that what they told you?"

"They didn't say it, it's just obvious. Did you hear that Crouch legalised the use of the Unforgivables?"

"Just for aurors, Son," his dad said, crossing his arms; "And where did you learn about the Unforgivables?"

"Professor Lupin taught us about them last week. It's part of the new defence program. We don't get to use them on each other, obviously. Just mice and spiders. I'm not very good, though."

"Hm. Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," his dad said, not quite meeting his eyes; "It takes a certain…baseness of character, to be able to tap into that kind of magic."

Malachi looked at his dad, carefully, for a second, knowing that it was the kind of magic his dad had surely been exposed to – used himself, even – in the past, before he went on.

"Well, they want us to be able to tap into it. There's this big drive for recruitment onto the new Auror Program the Ministry's setting up to start this summer. That and the Healer Apprenticeships. They've got them coming in to speak to us, some Aurors and Healers – well, mostly, to the sixth and seventh years – after the holidays. But I heard we can register interest now and once we turn sixteen, we can enroll onto the programs even before doing the NEWTs and we'll be credited based on the program's equivalent."

"Who told you that?"

Malachi shrugged; "Daphne. Mr. Greengrass is an editor on one of the papers. She overheard a meeting. They said if they couldn't garner enough voluntary interest, they'd have to look at conscription straight out of Hogwarts - maybe even earlier – and are keeping an eye on which students show the most promise; not just for healers and aurors, but apothecaries and legillimens, and well, anyone they can use, really, now that Vo – now that he's started killing again."

His dad was silent, though he was barely able to conceal his unease.

"They're not interested in Slytherins, though," Malachi went on; "Too much of a risk that they'd just end up training up the opposite side. Dumbledore's fighting it all, but Daphne's dad doesn't think there's much he can do to stop them. Crouch wants Dumbledore on his side but not if he starts causing him trouble; he sounds pretty nuts, right?"

His dad seemed to mull over the information.

And then he cleared his throat, before placing a hand on Malachi's shoulder and giving him a smile; "Well. Good thing you're back here to give you a little break from all of that."

Malachi smiled.

"Things are all a bit hectic, getting everything set up for the Foundation reopening," his dad went on; "But I've moved things around, so I'll be finished up by lunchtime while you're here."

"Sounds good."

His dad smiled – though Malachi could tell his mind was on what he'd just told him – and the hand on his shoulder slipped around, drawing him in for a hug and he felt his dad press a kiss to the side of his head.

"It's good to have you back, Son."

* * *

The lesson was going better than Harry had expected.

Much better.

Dumbledore was actually nice about it – which was _definitely_ not something Harry was used to – praising him when he did well and giving him tips on what to try next - which, he supposed, Snape did too, but it wasn't with the same smile and warmth that easily emitted from the Headmaster - and Snape would never comment kindly on certain memories that did come up now and again, as Dumbledore did, such as now when Grace appeared, again – _"she does have her mother's smile, doesn't she," –_ and Harry didn't mind so much, the Headmaster seeing it; - _"and a certain Gryffindor sense of mischief"._

"I dunno," Harry countered that point, with a roll of his eyes and a laugh; "I think she's more likely to end up in Slytherin like –"

Harry broke off.

Struck dumb for a minute, horrified at his own candour.

"Like Malachi," he tried.

But Dumbledore barely reacted, continued to simply smile serenely at him, and Harry frowned, realising:

"Oh. You know?"

Dumbledore lowered his eyes, neither confirming nor denying it, but even that was confirmation enough.

Of course, he did, this was Dumbledore, after all. And Harry supposed Snape might have been a bit more reserved about sending him to the Headmaster to continue the lessons in his absence, if he'd thought that the Headmaster having this access to his mind was a risk.

Harry smiled, relaxing further.

He found he preferred these lessons far more than he had done the ones with Snape. While they had reached an understanding now, Snape was always stern and down to business; Dumbledore almost made having his mind laid bare enjoyable. Almost.

It didn't seem like any time had passed at all, when the lesson was finally concluded.

"You did very well, Harry. Professor Snape has certainly seen to it that you have managed to develop an enviable level of ability in occlumency. Particularly for one so young."

Harry smiled, pleased with himself and the praise; "Thanks."

"It is no mean feat, considering the challenges facing us all right now; but especially yourself. You have had far more than your fair share of challenges this past year."

Harry swallowed, reminded of his mum, which he guessed Dumbledore was referring to; "It's no big deal. Not really."

"It certainly is Harry. Your sister is…very lucky, to have a brother so devoted and able to be a strength that she needs right now. The world has not been kind, to either of you."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head – he didn't need praise for that – as he said; "There's nothing I wouldn't do for my sister, Professor."

Dumbledore only smiled, saying nothing other than a simple; "Goodnight, Harry."

And Harry left the office more than a little pleased at his own efforts, that night. He was almost looking forward to the next one, two days from now, far more reassured leaving than he had been upon arrival.

Maybe Snape would come back and actually be _impressed_ with him – though Harry doubted he'd show it with the same enthusiasm the Headmaster had demonstrated – if he managed to make further progress with Dumbledore.

Harry stepped into Remus' chambers and had almost completely forgotten that Tonks had stopped by right as he had been leaving. Although, he supposed, even if he had remembered he would still be surprised to still find her there when he got back.

Grace wasn't there – it was too late, so she'd obviously been put to bed – and board games were scattered on the floor, that they had obviously been occupied with while he was away, and Tonks and Remus were sitting at the counter in the kitchenette, so wrapped up in their own conversation that they hadn't even noticed he'd come back.

"…when I lost my mum…I was a bit older than Grace was, but…yeah, my dad really struggled with it for a while. I guess I did too – I mean, obviously I did – and I didn't, exactly, make it easy for him," Tonks was saying quietly, as Remus listened, his attention all for her.

It was obviously a very private conversation – one Harry should not be privy to – and he felt guilty for even overhearing that small bit she'd said.

"…I mean, I couldn't have asked for a better dad; he did the best he could. Like you're doing. Seeing you and Grace, you're doing so amazingly with her."

"Oh," Remus sounded caught for a second; "Oh, Grace, she's not…."

Harry hesitated, having been about to reveal himself, wondering what Remus was going to say.

"I mean," Remus went on, glancing down; "Grace, she makes everything seem that much brighter than we can really dare to imagine right now. This time spent with her in her mother's absence, it's...it's no hardship on me."

Harry frowned.

Remus had lied by omission about Grace, pretty much for years. But, now, it was different. People _had_ to think Grace was Remus' daughter. It was the only way to keep her safe. Even Snape thought so.

It was the first time Harry had really thought about it, what Remus was doing for them – for Snape and his mum – and the first time he'd really thought about what that actually meant for _him._

"Oh, Harry," Remus' voice interrupted his thoughts; "You're back."

Harry smiled, giving a nod; "Uh, yeah. Just a second ago. Is Grace asleep?"

"Yeah," Remus smiled, sharing a look with Tonks; "Yeah, couldn't keep her eyes open by the end of the night. Tonks, here, she certainly knows how to get your sister's attention."

Harry smiled at her, warmly; "That's great. You should come by again, sometime."

Tonks smiled, glancing at Remus, almost coyly; "Yeah," she looked back at Harry with a nod; "Count on it. I'd like that."

She slipped down from the stool she was sitting on; "Better be off now, though. Order patrols starting up in – oh –" she glanced at the timepiece, as she shrugged into her cloak; "Ten minutes. Good thing you interrupted us, Harry. See you later, Remus."

She walked by, giving Harry a little nudge with her elbow and a smile as she passed, and then she was gone.

Remus' eyes were still on the door, lingering a few seconds after she left.

"Something on your mind, Uncle Remus?"

Remus looked at him, quickly. And then he cleared his throat, reddening somewhat, and he shook his head; "Ah. No."

He indicated in the direction of the stove; "Hot chocolate, Harry?"

Harry grinned and gave a nod – "yeah" – before making his way over and taking the seat that Tonks had just vacated.

* * *

It felt silly to be sneaking – he was in the muggle world, after all – but years of ingrained survivor-instinct meant Malachi had been sure to go up towards the back of the village when he had crept from the safety of the cottage not long after his dad had departed for the Foundation.

The center would have more hustle and bustle, much more to see, but he wasn't feeling brave enough – or stupid enough – to go down there just yet.

His dad would kill him if he found out he'd done this.

But it was just Crail. A muggle village. There was no magic presence at all, his dad had made sure of it, and Malachi was desperate to see them. The way the muggles lived, really, not just the way they partied and socialized at the events his dad was – occasionally, reluctantly – willing to take him to.

A car passed by.

He glanced, curiously, into the window of a merchant as he walked on up, at the couple of shoppers that browsed the interior.

He could hear children's voices in their gardens, laughing and squealing and playing, and Malachi chanced a look in at the muggles each house he passed.

They didn't look so different – just as he thought – as one little girl ran and jumped into her father's arms. They were just like them. Smiling and laughing and loving one another.

It didn't take him long until he had left the residential area completely and he was walking amongst the trees.

It felt safer there, a bit less exposed, and he no longer felt quite so nervous or, even, frightened to be outwith the confines of his home, alone, for the first time in…well, _forever_. If he didn't think for a minute, he could imagine he were actually free.

Malachi's eyes were on the sea, as he headed along the perimeter of the trees, at two of the little boats that ventured out onto the water. At the lighthouse.

So enraptured by the sight, he was almost upon the girl by the time he noticed her.

Malachi stopped when he did.

She was sitting on a swing, which hung from the branch of one of the trees, and her eyes were on the ground – not noticing him yet – as she moved ever so slightly back and forth, tracing the dirt with the toe of her shoes.

Long blonde hair tumbled forward over her shoulder when she leaned down further and, for a second, Malachi just stared at her.

Harry always teased Malachi about Daphne, insisting that she fancied him – or, rather, he did her – not believing that it wasn't true and insisting that she was pretty.

Malachi had never looked and thought that Daphne was pretty.

But _this_ girl was pretty.

He must have moved because a twig snapped beneath his feet and her head lifted so that she looked at him.

She smiled almost instantly. Now she looked even prettier. Malachi glanced away, suddenly shy.

"Hi," she said.

He looked back at her, smiling in turn; "Hi."

When he said nothing more – just continued to stare at her like a complete idiot - her expression changed, and she glanced up at the branch from which the swing was suspended; "Oh. Sorry. Is this yours?"

"Oh. Um. No," Malachi shook his head, glancing up at it; "I don't really…I don't come up here."

"Yeah. I thought you were new. You looked a bit lost down there."

"Oh. You saw me?"

"Mhm." She tilted her chin in the direction he had come and when he looked back he saw how very open the path he had taken had been.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Ma…x. Max."

"Cute," she smiled, brighter this time, and Malachi got a flutter – what was _that_ – before she added; "I'm Emma."

Even her name was pretty.

"You want me to show you around?"

He probably shouldn't.

"Yeah."

* * *

The agonized wails of the man on the floor filled the room.

Severus barely even flinched where he stood.

The only movement he made was the slightest of twitches - those unable to be controlled - the after-effects of his own punishment that had been endured some hours before.

_Don't die._

Well. That was certainly easier said than done.

Even if Severus was fully committed to ensuring that – on that front – he would not be letting the boy down. Not any time, soon, at least.

It was difficult not to think about it – the appeal that Harry had made to him the night he had left – and to deny that he had been affected by it.

But Severus buried that thought deeply – down into the darkest recesses of his mind, along with all the other wonderful and dangerous memories of Lily and of Grace – as the last thing that ought to be on his mind right now was how he had been moved by the plea of his – practically – stepson, as Harry had put it.

This was hardly the place for Severus to be thinking of Harry Potter as _his_.

The Dark Lord was as furious upon his arrival at the end of term as he had been upon his departure, some months before, his followers still bearing the brunt of that fury; that Harry Potter and Regulus Black had slipped through his fingers. That his hand had been forced; he and his supporters pushed out into open warfare long before he had planned and was prepared for. It had not been worth the cost – his gains far too meagre that night to offset them – and Crouch was fighting hard and fast against him, mobilizing the Ministry response with a swiftness and heavy-handedness that even those who opposed the Dark Lord were struggling to digest.

Death Eaters had been dispatched with haste – an increased focus on recruitment – and the werewolves hadn't been much trouble, nor the giants, as far as Severus was aware, but even their support was not enough to placate him.

Crouch was making gains, also, and he had trialed and convicted the three Death Eaters that had been apprehended at the Foundation at New Year, just that morning, along with the announcement that their children, of whom they had four between them, were to be expelled from Hogwarts with immediate effect.

As would any other such child who had a parent convicted and sentenced to Azkaban for involvement in Death Eater activity.

Severus bore the brunt of the Dark Lord's ire as if he, himself, were personally responsible for the decision.

The Dark Lord had responded accordingly, ordering the execution of two families. One of them muggle, breaching the Statute of Secrecy and creating some trouble for the Ministry – merely a game to him – and another, the pureblood family of the lead juror on the trial of Sebastian Nott. The juror, himself, was spared.

' _Only right there should be one left to grieve, wouldn't you say, Severus?'_ the Dark Lord had said to him, directly, with a sneer.

The screams in the room abruptly stopped, now filled only with the sound of heaving breaths.

"Out," the Dark Lord said, calmly, as if he hadn't just tortured the man at his feet to within an inch of his sanity, and two masked Death Eaters stepped forward, hauling the fallen to his feet and dragging him physically from the room.

They passed Narcissa at the doorway.

"My Lord," she addressed him, before indicating the masked figure behind her.

It was someone whom Severus did not know – or, at least, did not recognize from the mask – so was most likely one of the newer recruits, who were not yet privy to the identities of those within the inner circle. Or, rather, the inner circle was not yet privy to the information as to whom the new followers and informants were.

This one, however, Severus knew to be a Ministry contact.

That was as far as his knowledge extended on the matter.

"Leave us," the Dark Lord said to the room, at the newcomer's entrance.

The band of followers dutifully dispersed.

* * *

The church bells chimed eleven.

That meant one more hour until Malachi had to hurry back home.

"Those rocks over there -" Emma indicated with a nod in their direction; "- my dad would drag me and my brother down to fish there almost every night one summer."

Malachi perked up; "You know how to fish?"

"My dad's a fisherman; it was kinda hard not to be converted," Emma shrugged, with a smile and a roll of her eyes; "Compulsory sport, you could call it. Or familial obligations," she added, using a stick to doodle in the sand where they sat.

Malachi glanced at the rocks that dotted the ocean. Harry would like that. He had been almost obsessed with it – fishing – a few months ago, back when things had been normal between them.

Things were okay now but not like they were.

But Malachi was determined that they _would_ go back to normal – soon – having internalized the words of warning his dad had given him some weeks before. The thought of Harry dying was almost as frightening to him as the thought of his dad doing so, and he, especially, didn't want that to happen – or himself dying – with grudges held between them.

Harry would be there soon – later that night – and Malachi couldn't wait. Even if he wasn't quite looking forward to not being able to sneak out again for the next few days.

"My friend would like that."

"He likes fishing?"

"Yeah…uh…No. But he really wants to try it."

"Well, I could show you if you want. You and your friend."

Malachi smiled at her, knowing that would never happen, but he didn't want to upset or offend her by saying no – and he couldn't exactly tell her _why_ he had to say no – so he just nodded, as if in agreement.

He'd managed to sneak out to meet her every morning this week, glad – for the first time, ever – of his dad's busy schedule at the Foundation that had kept him away until lunch.

Emma had shown him the village. It was the very village he'd lived in for years, now – since the first time Voldemort had fallen – and, yet, he knew nothing about it. Until now, he had seen nothing other than what could be viewed from the window and he found he liked it.

It was small but not quiet, so many muggles spilling out into the streets, filling the air with laughter and voices, and they were all friendly and kind – most of them, anyway – and the food was good, that Emma had recommended to him, and the view was pretty and the company was even better.

And it felt good just to be _out_ and to be with someone who didn't know him and it was the strangest thing because he felt like he could just be _himself_ with her – which, really, he _couldn't_ – but hiding his magical side was a lot easier and a lot better than hiding how he really felt about the Statute of Secrecy and wondering if anything he said was going to be retold to someone's Death Eater parents or to his Head of House and wondering if the next book he opened was going to have Blood Traitor scrawled across the front of it and wondering if the person he was talking to actually even _saw_ him, or if they just looked at him and saw his dad.

The only other person he had that with was Harry.

But, well, Emma was much prettier than Harry, obviously.

And Harry didn't make Malachi's tummy jump and go all warm when he smiled at him.

And Malachi didn't ever sit next to Harry and think it might be nicer if they sat a bit closer. And he never felt himself blush whenever their legs or their hands accidentally touched.

Malachi 'accidentally' touched his hand against Emma's hand, now, where it was leaning in the sand.

Emma met his eyes, giving him a little smile – cute and shy and Malachi liked that, a lot, that she was a bit shy – and then she reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out something plastic. Something muggle.

"I made this for you," she handed it over, and Malachi took it, doing his best to hide his confusion as to what it actually was.

"Uh. Thanks."

Obviously, his bewilderment had dampened the expected enthusiasm she was waiting for, and she glanced away, blushing and looking uncomfortable.

"It's nothing. Just…well, there's that song I said I thought you'd like on it."

"Oh, it's music?" Malachi clicked on, looking at the thing; "Oh right. Yeah. Yeah, I like music."

He stared at it, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to get the music to start. It didn't have any buttons or anything.

Emma was looking at him now, with a frown, and then her expression changed to one of understanding; "Oh. You don't have a player?" She tugged something else out her jean pocket – something he'd seen her with a few times but hadn't managed to have a proper look at yet – and handed it over; "Here. You can borrow my Walkman, if you want."

Malachi looked down at it, even more bewildered by the odd muggle contraption than he was by the thing he was holding in his other hand. It looked a bit like a radio, but he didn't want to just start poking at the buttons in case he either broke it or, well, made himself look like an idiot.

"Um…we could listen to it now?"

"Okay, sure."

She turned, going up onto her knees to face him.

Malachi handed them both back to her, as casually as possible, so that she might reveal to him how to put this thing together and it actually looked pretty easy.

She popped the small plastic thing into the big plastic thing – the Walkman, she'd called it – and then took one of the little round things and popped it into her ear, pushing one of the buttons with a click; "You'll have to come closer."

Malachi definitely had no objection to that suggestion, so he shimmied in towards her so that their knees were touching and picked up the other round thing, putting it into his ear.

Oh.

Music filled one ear; a song he didn't recognize – it was a muggle band, after all – but he liked it right away. But, then, he probably would have pretended to have liked it, even if he didn't. Especially if it meant that they'd get to carry on sitting like this, faces close to one another, as they listened.

One song ended and another started and they just kept sitting like that, facing one another and listening to the music.

Emma met his eyes, giving him another of her little smiles, and Malachi got that flutter again – one that he was getting a lot whenever she looked and smiled at him – and he smiled back.

Not at all looking forward to the clock in the town chiming twelve o' clock and sending him back home again.

* * *

"Mr. Black!"

Grace pounced upon Malachi's dad the moment he stepped into Remus' chambers and was swiftly swept up into his arms for a spin.

"Why, good evening, Miss Grace!" Mr. Black tossed her in the air, making her laugh, before he placed her back on her feet and turned a smile his way; "Alright, Harry?"

"Hey, Mr. Black," Harry returned the smile, glad to see the man looking so well – the last time he'd seen him being when he'd been lying in St Mungo's – and lifted the bag he'd packed for himself and Grace, making his way towards them; "See you next week, Uncle Remus."

Remus smiled and nodded from where he still stood at the door, hand on Grace's shoulder to keep her from bolting out into the corridor; "Have fun. You two behave yourselves, no nonsense."

Grace rolled her eyes; "We never make nonsense, Uncle Remus!" She shot a grin Harry's way, essentially undoing the statement and Harry snickered.

"If only that were true," Mr. Black chuckled, nodding for her to go on and Grace bounded out the door, her excitement at getting out of Hogwarts for the weekend evident. Mr. Black exchanged a polite nod with Remus – not a single word spoken between them during the entire exchange – before he followed her out.

Harry wondered if they held the same dislike for one another as Remus and Snape did; but no way was it his place to ask such a question.

He already felt awkward enough around Mr Black right now, as it was.

He was silent for a good few minutes, until they had almost left the Castle and were out on the grounds, not putting voice to his concern until they were about to reach the gates.

"Um, Mr Black?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'm really sorry," Harry said, nervously, all that had happened quickly coming back to him; "About what happened at –"

"Harry," Mr Black put a hand on his shoulder, stopping to face him; "None of that. That is long since forgotten and, in any case, not something that needs to be forgiven. Believe me, you are neither the first, nor will you be the last, to fall for one of the Dark Lord's orchestrations."

"I almost got you killed, Sir."

Mr. Black shook his head; "Harry, we can't dwell on the ifs and buts – Grace, hold up! – what's done is done and you and I, we're both still standing here alive and well, ready to fight another day – so help us –" he rolled his eyes with a grin, eliciting a small chuckle from Harry; "and we will get nowhere in that, if we're too wrapped up in being concerned with what we _should_ have done to focus on what's at hand."

Harry gave a small nod; "Okay."

"But for this weekend –" Mr. Black grinned, leaning in close; " – there is no fight. There is no war. Nothing to focus on but you kids being kids – speaking of which, we better get moving – Malachi is more than a little impatient that I get you two back home as soon as possible."

Harry's uneasiness vanished completely at the statement, as they headed on their way; "Yeah?"

That was a relief, at least, that he was actually _welcome_ at the Black's home. Harry had had his doubts.

Mr Black gave him a warm smile; "Of course –" they reached Grace, who was waiting impatiently at the gates, bouncing from foot to foot; "- goodness knows what mischief you three have got planned, I'll be grey by the time this visit is over."

"Grey like a ghost, Mr. Black?" Grace piped up, when he put a hand on her shoulder urging her forward and the three of them headed past the Hogwarts boundaries.

Mr. Black laughed; "I may just become a ghost, Miss Grace."

He led them to the cover of the trees and, after a careful glance around to make sure they were alone, he produced one of his – illegal – personal portkeys and unwrapped it from the fabric surrounding it; "Alright, you two. Ready? Grab a hold of this."

Harry and Grace did.

"Jump."

They were at Malachi's in no time.

The portkey detoured them via Mr Black's office at the Foundation where they swapped the book portkey for an ornamental snitch one that was sitting innocuously on Mr Black's desk, grasping that one with another – "jump" – and that landed them right outside the door to the cottage in Crail.

And once they got in, Mr. Black announced the three of them would be bunking together in Malachi's room and dispatched them to head upstairs to get themselves sorted for the weekend while he made up something for them to eat for supper.

Grace elected to stay and help – or, rather, get in Mr. Black's way – and so he and Malachi had headed on upstairs.

It was the first time they'd really been alone together since New Year.

There was an awkwardness in the air, for sure, even if Malachi smiled at him when their eyes met from time to time – far too polite for this to be _them_ – and, so, Harry turned his attention to unpacking the bag and hanging up the few things he'd brought with them for the weekend.

Mr. Black had transfigured Malachi's chair into bunk beds for him and Grace, and something else had been transfigured into a little dresser at the foot of it. Harry chucked the bag onto the bottom bunk, getting to work unloading it, while Malachi sat on his own bed a few feet away, just watching him.

Harry wondered if this felt as uncomfortable for Malachi as it did for him.

It was a few minutes – maybe _ten_ – before Malachi finally said something other than chit chat; needless comments on the room, going back to school and, even, the _weather_.

Which, at least, _was_ supposed to be nice.

"How's your mum?"

Harry met his eyes, a sudden, uneasy feeling in his stomach at the reminder; "Oh. Um. She's still the same."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"I dunno. Snape thinks so and…well, he's usually right, so far," he shrugged, conceding the point, and hung up the shirt he'd been unfolding.

"Good."

"Yeah."

He cleared his throat, pulling open the drawer and putting in Grace's folded clothes; "Your dad looks good."

"Yeah, he is. Julia's been here; she's been taking care of him."

"They're still together?"

"Guess so. Don't think they've told anyone yet, though."

"They probably can't. Because of..."

_Certain death._

Harry opted not to say the words.

"Yeah," Malachi came over, knowing well enough what Harry meant, and sat on the edge of the bunk, closer to him; "Be kinda stupid to."

"You got scissors? Uncle Remus gave Grace this thing to bring –" it was a unicorn lamp still in its packaging; "- she probably won't even need it now your dad's made up bunk beds. She'll want the top."

"Get him to make her a shelf up there. I'll ask him," Malachi said, before indicating the drawer of his bedside table; "Think there's scissors in there."

Harry headed over with the lamp, pulling open the drawer, and was glad that the awkwardness was going away, a bit. Mr. Black was right, there was no point in holding onto it – the guilt – when there were far more important things to be worrying about, now.

He got the scissors, plonking down on Malachi's bed when he did, about to begin to cut off the packaging but when he did, he felt something hard against his hip and reached down, tugging out the offending item from where it was sticking up from underneath the pillow.

Harry recognised it right away – it was a muggle music player, his mum had one in her junk box – and he frowned, turning it over in his hand; "Where'd you get this?"

Malachi looked caught; "Oh. Uh. Bought it. In London."

Harry eyed him, sceptically. Malachi was usually an excellent liar – even if he only did so very occasionally – a _master_ at deception. Well, maybe that was exaggerating a bit. But he was certainly much better than Harry was at talking his way out of trouble and, well, he wasn't doing a great job of that right now.

Harry grinned, knowing something was up, instantly, and cast aside the lamp he'd been about to open, his attention all from the muggle object in his other hand.

"What is it?" He pushed the button that popped the device open; "You been sneaking out the house, or something? Obviously, I won't tell."

"Well…yeah. I just wanted to look about. And some muggle music is good."

"Does it work?" Harry asked, pulling out the tape from inside.

"Not here. It works on the beach –"

"Love Emma." Harry read the little script on the side of the tape – quite clearly hand-written, in bright coloured letters – and Harry looked back at him, eyes gleaming, with a widening smile as he realised; "This is from a _girl!_ "

"I got it from a charity shop."

"Liar!" Harry pointed at him before he burst out laughing, because even when Malachi _was_ quick with the lies, he was never good enough for _Harry_ not to know when he was; "Who's Emma?"

"No one."

"No one?" Harry repeated, putting the tape back in and pressing the 'on' button, futilely – he knew it wouldn't work, but he desperately wished it would – and chuckled; "She's a muggle. Oh, she's a _muggle._ Your dad's gonna go nuts."

"Will you shut up," Malachi glowered at him, face red with mortification; "How would my dad even find out? He's not gonna _meet_ her."

"He's gonna catch you."

"He won't."

"We always get caught," Harry pointed out, still grinning, widely, delighted by this discovery; "Is she your girlfriend? Is that why you're not snogging Daphne?"

"I'm not snogging Daphne because I don't want to snog Daphne," Malachi shot him a look, still blushing.

"But you want to snog Emma?"

"No!"

Harry burst out laughing again, because he obviously _did,_ his face was so red and he looked so _mad_ at being caught, that it was beyond obvious. And Harry _had_ to know more.

"How'd you even meet her?"

Malachi glanced at the window, giving an exaggerated sigh, as if in defeat; "She lives over there." He nodded in the direction of the park.

"Does she know you're a wizard?"

"No, 'course not."

"How old is she?"

"Fourteen."

Harry nodded; "You _do_ like them older."

"I'm fourteen in two days!"

"You kissed her?"

"No."

"You _going_ to?"

"No."

That denial was a lot less convincing and Harry chuckled, nodding; "You're gonna kiss her."

"Harry –"

"I want to meet her."

"NO."

"Yes. I'm your best mate. She needs my nod of approval."

"Since _when_?"

"Since always, it's part of the code of brotherhood."

"What is _that_?"

"I dunno," Harry snickered, shaking his head; "But I still want to meet her."

"Tough. You'll just scare her away."

"Ha. You're in trouble if you're worried about her dumping you already," Harry grinned, widely; "Tell me about her. Something interesting."

"She knows how to fish."

Harry straightened, immediately interested; "Yeah?"

"Harry!" Grace peeked her head round the door.

Harry frowned at her; "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that Malachi has a girlfriend now."

"Aw, Grace," Malachi looked immediately annoyed at her presence.

"Aw, she's good," Harry waved a hand, still chuckling at the new revelation; "You won't tell anyone, will you Grace?"

"Nope, promise," Grace crossed her fingers and held them up at the side of her face, before adding with a smirk; "For a price."

Malachi glowered while Harry snickered.

"What do you want?" Malachi asked her.

"Sweets. Lots of them."

"Fine, we'll get you sweets."

"Okay. Then, yep. I promise," and then she did a little dance, singing; "Malachi and Emma sitting in a tree –"

"You just said you wouldn't talk about it, Grace," Harry rolled his eyes.

"No one's here."

"You can't talk to anyone about it, not even us. It's a secret."

"A secret. That's gonna cost _more_ sweets."

"Fine," Harry agreed and Grace grinned, turning and heading from the room as she called back.

"Mr. Black said supper's ready!"

"Your sister's a pain, Harry," Malachi said when she'd finally left.

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

It was official.

The Black Cottage was the _best_ place to be.

Harry's stay at Christmas – before everything went terrible – and the weekend spent there, now, only confirmed it.

He'd always loved going on little trips and outings with Malachi and his dad – and he was always welcome, Mr. Black had made sure of it – but the actual visits, like this one, were even better.

Malachi and his dad were so funny together. Harry couldn't help it when he looked at them, the way they played and joked and mocked one another, it made him think of Sirius, or of his own dad, or even, sometimes – accidentally, of course – of Snape and he wondered if he'd ever have that.

Grace had it. Well, she did, before. Something _like_ it, anyway. She'd had a family. Something Harry had longed for since before he could remember.

His longing only increased as the weekend went on, once Julia appeared on Malachi's birthday – surprising Harry and Grace with her presence – bringing along cake and party food and games and balloons and her usual wild antics that he'd missed, for he'd hardly seen her at all since last summer.

Malachi wasn't surprised to see her, just gave her a smile and a thank you for the little gift she'd handed over – obviously, Mr. Black had told him she was coming – and Grace had immediately whisked her off for some fun with the balloons.

They couldn't go out this year, Mr. Black had explained, apologetically, but they'd do just as well indoors.

Well.

Harry had loved it.

Malachi had too, Harry could tell, even though he usually didn't like any fuss for things like birthdays.

They'd teamed up, the kids against the grown-ups, and played Guess the Sketch and Charades and some muggle board games Julia had brought along – for Malachi's benefit, no doubt – Scrabble and Monopoly; but the last one they'd had to stop because Mr. Black and Malachi just wouldn't behave and got too competitive with one another, each accusing the other of cheating and intentionally sabotaging the other's planned ' _Empires'_.

"Regent Street. I'll take it!" Mr. Black declared.

"Aw, Dad! You're only taking it because you know I need it," Malachi piped up in annoyance.

"Now, now, Son. Surely, I've explained to you the life-lesson of losing with grace, hm? Hand it over, Banker!"

Grace grinned, delighted with her delegated duty, and handed over the card; "That's three hundred, Mr. Black!"

"Here you go, Miss Grace," Mr. Black made the exchange, passing over the game money.

A little while later, Malachi got a chance card and turned a smirk in his dad's direction, reading from the card; "Swap your piece with another players."

"I suppose you'll be wanting Regent Street –" his dad lifted the card but Malachi shook his head.

"Nah. Give me Piccadilly."

"Come on, I just bought the full set."

"What happened to losing with grace, Dad?"

"Better fork it over, Black, your son means business," Julia said with a chuckle at the wicked gleam in Malachi's eye.

"Excuse me, Miss Bradbury, you're supposed to be on _my_ team," Mr. Black pointed out, putting an arm around her and tickling her side, making her laugh and twist to wiggle herself free from him.

It had felt like a _family_ , for a little while, and he was part of it. Mr. Black and Julia were not even bothering to hide the fact that they were a couple and Harry wondered if this was what it was going to be like for _them_ ; for him and his mum and Grace and Snape.

It was a ridiculous thought, he reasoned with himself, once the games were over and he was helping Malachi and Mr. Black clean up. Snape would _never_ do any of this. Harry couldn't even imagine Snape playing with anyone, nevermind _laughing_ , not even with Grace. In fact, nothing more than a slight smile that managed to, somehow, escape unchecked was all Harry could imagine Snape allowing during 'family time' with the four of them, and even then he'd probably be annoyed with himself for letting it do so.

Harry chuckled at the thought, deciding it would be his mission to _make_ the man laugh – happily, not sarcastically, as he was sure he had probably done that – at least once in his life, as he gathered up the balloon animals Julia had dutifully made up by hand for Grace earlier that afternoon from the floor.

"Harry, come here, get your face painted!" Grace called over, before turning her cheek to the side, showing off the little rainbow Julia had just finished painting on her cheek; "You can get a rainbow, too."

Harry scoffed; "Nah. Don't think so, Grace."

"Well, you could get a lion then – like the Gryffindors – oh! Or the Hogwarts crest! Malachi's got the Slytherin one, see!" She pointed at Malachi's cheek and Malachi tilted his cheek in Harry direction with an eye roll, showing off the art work, before following his dad out the room with some of the dirty plates.

Julia grinned at Harry, from where she sat at the coffee table opposite his sister, and Harry smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah, alright. A lion, then," he put the balloon animals down on the table and headed over, switching places with Grace who bounded after Mr. Black and Malachi to the kitchen, keen to show off the rainbow she was sporting.

"A lion, was that?" Julia asked, dipping the tip of the brush into the yellow paint.

Harry nodded; "Yeah, alright."

"I'll do the left," Julia tilted his head to the side, and got to work on it.

They were quiet for a minute, Harry's mind still on Snape and his mum and them actually being a family when all this was over. Something they'd decided they just couldn't have made work, now.

"Julia?"

"Hm?"

"What would you do if you and Mr. Black had a baby?"

Her eyes, which had been focused on his cheek, snapped to his at the question. And then she smiled, shaking her head, as if it were a joke; "That's not gonna happen, Kid. Here, turn this way a bit," she turned her attention back to his cheek, tilting his head to the side with a touch to his chin.

"But, accidents happen all the time," Harry pointed out, pretty sure that's what Grace must have been, even if Snape had scolded him pretty rapidly for pointing that out, and he guessed they'd been pretty much forced into deciding what to do from there; "What would you do?"

"Well, I guess if that were to happen –" Julia said, still carrying on with moving the brush across his cheek; "- we'd just do whatever we thought was right for the kid."

She made it sound simple.

Easy.

Obvious.

But it was surely anything but.

"You'd have to leave, though, right? Take the baby away. So that no one would know it was his. Mr. Black's got so many people after him –" Harry went on, thinking entirely of Snape, and wondering why his mum hadn't done that. She _should_ have done that, after all. Instead, they'd just _lied_ and put their lives – _all_ their lives – on hold; "- and they're trying to come after Malachi now, just to get to him."

Julia shifted, but carried on painting his cheek, as Harry went on.

"But, then, Malachi wouldn't get to know his sister –"

Well, _that_ was certainly a thought. Harry adored Grace, even when she was being a drama queen and a pest; he supposed he should be glad that he, at least, got to know her and that them taking Grace away from him was never an option.

"- that wouldn't be very fair."

Harry still couldn't make sense of it. His mum's side of it, at least. He didn't really allow himself to think that, not since what had happened had happened; but, after an afternoon like _this_ he couldn't help it.

It was easy to understand Snape's side of the whole thing. He couldn't just up and walk away from the war; both of them, Dumbledore and Voldemort, held him where he was. And Snape had even _told_ his mum that there was no future there – that _this_ was the future on offer – but she stayed with him, anyway. She actually _chose_ this.

Did people really act that crazy when they fell in love?

Harry supposed they could. After all, he didn't really want Snape to go now, either. Now that he was finally getting to know him – sort of – and understand who he was to them.

"Harry," Julia said, interrupting his thoughts, as she stopped painting; "Does it bother you that I'm seeing Mr. Black?"

Harry looked at her, frowningly; "What?" He quickly realized how his questions must have sounded – entirely wrapped up in his _own_ circumstances when he'd been asking her all this – realizing that this was _so_ none of his business; "No, not at all."

Julia raised an eyebrow, a little smile playing on her lips; "Are you sure? Because it sounds like you have an opinion."

"No, I…I think you're great together," Harry said, sincerely – seeing them together all afternoon, he couldn't help but think it – before he went on, at her doubtful look; "Really. You're like a real family. You and Mr. Black and Malachi. It's –" Harry shrugged; "You're how it should be."

He glanced in Grace's direction, where she was now gathering up the balloon animals on the table; "I was just wondering what would happen when…"

Julia had followed his look, her eyes on Grace as well, before she looked back at him and finished off; "When reality bites."

She tossed the face paints aside and gave his knee a pat with a smile; "You're all done."

"Mr. Black, can we go camping?" Grace asked, as Malachi and his dad walked back into the room.

"Camping?" Mr. Black glanced at the window, shaking his head; "I don't think –"

"Emily at the Learning Centre said that her mummy and daddy take her camping in the holidays. They even sleep outside and give names to all of the stars," Grace explained, in her attempt to sell it to him.

Mr. Black raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Miss Grace, if it's the _stars_ you're after, well. That can be arranged."

* * *

"Ouch, Harry, you're on my foot!"

"Sorry, Grace."

"Now you're on mine," Malachi's voice piped up, from the end of the row.

Regulus chuckled from where he was lying at the other end. He'd transfigured sleeping bags for them all, announcing that they'd be having a camp out on the floor of the living room that evening and had charmed the ceiling, so they'd be able to see straight through, up at the sky from where they lay on the floor.

It was a spell he'd made sure to learn and used frequently as a teenager, keen to impress the girls with his knowledge of the constellations above.

"Alright, who knows what that one is; the brightest one?" Regulus pointed upwards.

"That's Orion, Dad. Everyone knows that."

"I didn't," Grace piped up.

Regulus tucked his hand behind his head, before pointing upwards again; "What about that one, to the left of Orion then? Canis Major. If you follow the pattern, see, it looks like a big dog."

"How can you tell? They all look the same," Harry said, from where he was lying between Grace and Malachi.

"Well, that one has the brightest star in the sky," Regulus explained; "Sirius. See it?"

Harry was quiet for a second, before his voice answered, quietly; "Yeah."

"Is Regulus up there?" Malachi asked, curiously.

"Sure is," Regulus pointed; "Right there, in Leo. Down there, the bottom right."

"They all look the same, Mr. Black," Grace said, echoing her brother's skepticism.

"No, I see it," Malachi said; "It's shaped like a lion, Grace, see –" Malachi carried on explaining it to Grace, and Regulus glanced to the side, sharing a smile with Julia who lay beside him.

The evening carried on that way, carrying on much later into the night than the kids should have been allowed to stay up, but Regulus allowed it. It was Malachi's birthday and, in any case, events such as these were rare, and they kids loved it and _he_ loved it.

He loved _this_.

The stars and his son and Julia and the laughter of the kids, as they wound one another up and murmured into the night, until their voices grew quieter, sleepier, and, one by one, they fell asleep on the floor beneath the stars.

Regulus just lay there in the quiet, interrupted now and again by little snuffles and snores, with his hand tucked behind his head, as he carried on looking up at the night sky.

It was only when Julia moved next to him, a little while later, that he realized she was awake.

Regulus smiled at her, as she propped her head up on her hand to look at him; "You're still up," her voice was a whisper, so as not to wake the kids behind her.

"I am that," Regulus grinned; "Didn't think there could be any place less comfortable to sleep than that mattress of yours. But I think I've finally found one."

Julia muffled a laugh into his shoulder, shaking her head as she drew back; "It was your idea to sleep on the floor."

"Well, who could say no to that face, hm? Grace Potter, she could wrap anyone around her finger."

"Yeah, I can well believe it," Julia nodded, looking at him warmly, before she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

The whole thing, the day and the night, and this woman, and these kids, it was all a thing of fantasy for him. Something Regulus never dreamed he'd ever have, much less experience, even just this once, and he guessed that's what made him think it, what made him _say_ it, as she drew back, his voice a murmur when he met her eyes.

"Marry me."

There was a silence in the wake of his words.

As if neither could believe what he had just said.

"What?" Julia's voice was a whisper, but that didn't conceal her bewilderment.

"Julia."

They both jumped, looking over Julia's shoulder at the sound of Grace's voice.

Grace was sitting up behind her, looking at them, unabashedly.

"Um, Grace," Julia shook her head, as if getting herself together; "What…what's the matter, Honey?"

"I can't sleep. Can I go to bed, properly?"

"Um. Yeah," Julia nodded, rolling to get up, and reached out a hand to Grace; "Yeah, come on. I'll take you up."

Regulus watched them go.

Julia glanced back at him, briefly, but didn't quite meet his eyes when she did, before they disappeared behind the door that led upstairs.

Regulus closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow.

Regulus Black. You complete and utter idiot.


	65. April 1995: Nexus

Marry me.

 _Marry me_.

Regulus had never even told her he loved her.

A truth far too risky to be revealed, even to Julia, he had rationalized in his mind, whenever he felt it; that he had actually fallen. And far too likely to burst the bubble and send her running in the opposite direction.

Well.

 _That_ particular horse had well and truly bolted.

Julia had spent some time upstairs with Grace after he'd said it, long enough that he had begun to think that she may opt to just spend the rest of the night up there with Severus' daughter, rather than come back down and risk he might attempt to explain or reaffirm his wish to wed her and ruin her life.

Miss Bradbury, could I, perhaps, entice you to throw away your entire future and join me in my shroud of darkness for the rest of our days? They'd be quite numbered, indeed, but don't let that put you off! That may prove to be a blessing, depending on how this whole war business turns out.

On offer is an entirely unplottable, unstable family home, mandatory resignation from your hard-earned career, the ever-looming threat of torture and death, and a stepson, currently toiling in the delightful throes of teenage angst.

Better be quick. Another proposal like this isn't likely to come up again in your lifetime.

Footsteps on the floor interrupted Regulus' musings and, to his surprise, the woman on his mind was back and was climbing into her sleeping bag at his side.

Neither said anything until she was lying back down beside him, Regulus simply watching her as he felt the bitterness at himself dissolve only to be replaced by a bundle of nerves that he was, actually, going to have to explain himself, now.

Julia met his eyes, giving him a smile; "She's a little firecracker, that one."

"Mhm," Regulus grinned in agreement; "Like her mother that way."

Julia chuckled, giving a nod, but after that neither seemed to know what to say.

That, alone, was enough of an answer to his question.

It wasn't, however, an answer to what was going to come next. Neither wanted to say it, neither had really dared come close to _that_ conversation in the months since they had come together and actually _became_ something; neither had been willing to ask or answer the question as to what it was they were actually doing here.

Living in the moment had always been enough.

And now, he'd ruined that. Broken a rule that, while unspoken, had always been there.

They didn't think about the future.

They didn't think about the future because there wasn't one.

Not for them.

"Julia."

She met his eyes, at the rare use of her name, and she released a breath – it shuddered a little – and gave him a small smile, shaking her head, and touched a finger to his lips, silencing him.

And then she leaned in, replacing her finger with her lips; a kiss so soft and warm and affectionate – he dared, even, to think that it might be love – and then buried her face into the crook of his neck and his shoulder, her arm wrapping around his waist and holding him tight.

Regulus arm came up, holding her to him in turn, just as they had done every day on the couch these past few months.

But there was a tightness in his chest rather than the, previously, ever-present warmth and a knot in his stomach because he knew, even as they lay there in one another's arms, that, soon, this would all be over.

The illusion well and truly shattered.

* * *

"Alright, breakfast is up!" Julia announced, stacking up the plates of pancakes along one arm and coming over, serving them up to Malachi, Harry and Grace where they were all sitting waiting at the kitchen counter.

"Can I have ice cream with my pancakes, Julia?" Grace asked, sitting up straighter in her eagerness – as if that might encourage Julia to hand it over – when her plate arrived in front of her.

"I think there's enough sweet stuff on that counter to rot every tooth in your mouth as it is," she said, with an indication at the bottles of sprinkles, syrups, whipped cream and melted chocolate that was lined up in front of them.

"Mr. Black lets us!"

"I can well believe that," Julia chuckled, returning to the stove and breaking some more eggs into the pan.

"Pass the syrup, Harry," Grace said, reaching over Malachi for it. Harry did so, accidentally squirting some over Malachi's sleeve as he did and snickering, making a face.

Malachi grabbed the squirty cream, spraying it in Harry's face, and the two of them burst out laughing.

"Oh, you'll pay for that!"

More syrup was fired in Malachi's face, while Grace cried out – "Hey, you're getting it on _me!_ " – and Julia called out over their laughter – "pack it in, you two!" – but they carried on, and Malachi was delighted that things were back to normal between them, now, so much so that it was as if the last three months had never happened.

"Julia, can I be a flower girl at your wedding?"

"What?"

Malachi immediately stopped what he was doing, attention now all for the exchange between Julia and Grace.

"When you marry Mr. Black," Grace explained, before adding; "I heard him asking you."

Julia was still at the stove and she shook her head, casting a smile their way; "Mr. Black was just kidding, Honey."

Grace frowned; "That's not a very funny joke."

Harry gave Grace a nudge and a grin; "Mr. Black and Julia can't get married, Grace."

"Then why'd he ask?" Grace nudged him back, rolling her eyes, and Harry grabbed her sides and tickled her until she squealed.

Malachi's eyes were all for Julia though, and the way that hers wouldn't quite meet his as she made her way back to the counter, popping the plate of scrambled eggs she'd made up in front of them, and Malachi knew – and he was pretty sure Julia must know as well – that his dad wouldn't joke about something like that.

He started to climb down from the stool he was sitting on, to go and find him – for they'd surely decided to either marry or break up last night – and his dad probably needed to speak to him, then, whichever it was.

But, before he was down, his smiling dad breezed into the room.

"Ah, looks like you lot got the party started without me."

"Good morning, Mr. Black!" Grace grinned at him, passed a face covered in chocolate and a mouthful of pancakes.

His dad ruffled her hair over the counter, giving her a smile – "good morning, Miss Grace" – and then he stepped up behind Julia, where she was standing at the stove.

"Do I have to pick just one?" he asked, his chin on her shoulder.

"Oh, I know you want them all, Black," she met his eyes, with a little smile, before she nodded in the direction of the plate filled with both eggs and pancakes, strawberries scattering the top; "Over there."

"Thank you," he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

And it was as if nothing had even changed between them. Well, he supposed they were a bit more openly lovey-dovey than in the past, but that had been building up all day yesterday.

Maybe they were just pretending everything was fine. Or, maybe, his dad _was_ just joking when – if – he'd actually mentioned marriage. Grace was hardly the most reliable of sources when it came to passing on information, after all, so he relaxed, a bit, just as he felt Harry's elbow nudge into his side before he shot a look in his dad's direction, reminding him:

"Oh, Dad? Is it okay if Grace and Harry stay another night?"

His dad popped a strawberry into his mouth, shaking his head; "Sorry, kids, I've got to get back to the Foundation tomorrow. And Julia's back to work tonight."

"It's cool, we'll just hang out here," Malachi shrugged; "We've got all these board games – if it's okay to borrow them a bit longer?" at Julia's smile and nod, he went on – "and we've still got a ton of food. Harry doesn't have his lesson with Dumbledore until tomorrow night, so they don't really have to go back yet."

He hoped that he was convincing, as Harry had finally managed to persuade him during their whispers in the night that he _wouldn't_ run Emma off if he were to meet her and, now that it had been decided, he was actually hoping that he could.

His dad looked between them for a second, almost appraisingly, before giving a nod; "Yeah. Alright. I'll send an owl to Professor Lupin; make sure he's alright with it."

"Yes!" he and Harry celebrated, simultaneously, grinning in one another's direction.

Julia stepped closer to his dad with a grin and a raised eyebrow; "Why do I get the impression you're going to regret that?"

"I'm fairly certain that I am," his dad nodded, smilingly, and held up a strawberry to her mouth. Julia rolled her eyes, opening her mouth for him to pop it in.

Malachi and Harry rolled their eyes at one another at the display of affection, making sicky gestures.

"Well, I think the both of you _should_ get married," Grace declared, immediately plunging the playful energy of the room into one of complete awkwardness.

His dad and Julia shifted where they were stood facing one another – not looking at each other, now, having quickly averted their eyes from one another at the statement – and when their eyes did meet again, their smiles were no longer so playful, no longer so cheeky – in fact his dad's look a little bit sad – before his dad rubbed Julia's arm as he passed by her, going to get something – probably something he didn't even need – from the cupboard behind her.

And Malachi no longer needed to wonder if his dad had asked her to marry him.

For it was more than obvious – to everyone – that he had.

* * *

Grace lined up the pebbles on the sand that she'd found, finding even _that_ more entertaining that the activity that Harry and Malachi and the blonde girl – Emma – had chosen to pass the time with that morning.

They'd stayed another night at Mr. Black's for _this?_

She'd rather be back at the castle with Uncle Remus.

Mr. Black had been gone only a few minutes, before Harry had knelt before her and explained that they were going out and there were ' _rules'_.

That meant they were going to be naughty, obviously – Grace was beginning to realise that now – but she was more than eager to be included in Harry and Malachi's deception for the day.

So, for today, her name was Emily, like her friend from the Learning Centre. She was allowed to pick her own name but it had to be quick - it wasn't allowed to be Lily, which she didn't think was very fair, as Harry was allowed to pick James - and once she'd picked it she became a 'muggle'. No magic existed. It was a game, Harry had told her, and she was to _'put her drama queen reputation to work'_ and be the perfect little actress – breaking character for nothing – and that meant no doing magic, no talking about magic, everything was just normal, muggle like and _dull_.

Malachi and Harry spent ages just learning how to throw a string on a stick out onto the water.

But even that was more fun than what happened next which was, basically, nothing.

They just stood there _forever_ saying they were waiting for the fish.

Probably even the fish were so bored they'd left this part of the sea.

Harry wanted to fish for longer than Malachi and Emma did, so those two left them and went to sit on one of the big rocks a little further away by themselves, which Harry seemed to think was very funny.

Grace didn't see why that was funny.

Malachi and Emma – his _girlfriend_ , Harry called her – they talked and played the same way that Mr. Black and Julia did; looked right at each other, listening properly, whenever the other was speaking and they would be smiling and laughing and tickling one another, as if no one else was even there.

Grace rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the pebbles before her, staring at them. Even they seemed so much duller than the other pebbles in the world. They were grey, no colour at all to them, no nice whiteness or markings or stripes. Sometimes, when her mummy would take her to the beach – it had been a long time since that had happened – they would gather up the prettiest pebbles to give to…

The thought trailed off.

The pebbles before her suddenly changed colour – turning pink, and then blue, and then white with little brown spots like the ones she had been thinking about a second ago – oops.

Grace quickly stopped.

She wasn't supposed to be doing any magic out here.

The pebbles were still white and brown. Grace gathered them up, quickly, tucking them into her pockets so that Harry wouldn't know what she'd done, and then got to her feet. She approached him, feeling guilty. She mashed it down, hoping she wouldn't be caught.

"Harry?"

"What's up, Grace?"

"Can I have a shot of the fishing stick?"

Harry smiled and gave a nod, holding out an arm to her, and she came and stood in front of him, taking a hold of it and decided it'd be far better if she just pretended she actually cared about fishing for the rest of the morning.

* * *

"You think we should tell James it's a lost cause?" Emma said, glancing in Harry's direction.

"James? Oh. No," Malachi waved a hand; "He probably doesn't even care if he actually catches any fish. He just...it makes him feel closer to his dad, that's all."

"Oh. Did he lose him?"

Malachi nodded, looking in Harry's direction; "Yeah. Last year."

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost my dad," Emma said, quietly, looking at Harry with sympathy; "And his little sister, she's so young."

Malachi didn't want to explain that their fathers were different – he probably shouldn't, as it was better to keep things not too mixed up, and, well, Grace _had_ lost her dad too, from what Harry had been telling him about Severus and the memory wipe the night before – so he swallowed, focusing on her first point; "I don't know what I'd do without mine, either."

Emma looked back at him, giving him a little smile when she noticed him watching her. Sometimes, he couldn't help himself and would catch himself just _looking_ at her, and he wondered if that made him weird or, worse, a creep but she never seemed to mind and sometimes he'd catch her just looking at him, too, and he actually liked it – even though he'd start to blush – so, maybe, Emma liked it when he looked at her too.

They were looking at one another now. A bit longer than they usually did.

It was the kind of look where, really, he should do something.

Well. That _something_ was pretty obvious. He'd just been too much of a wimp so far to actually do it.

He _should_ just kiss her.

Harry was right.

He'd wanted to for days – even imagined it, a couple of times, wondering what it'd be like since he'd never actually kissed anyone before – and she kept looking at him like she wanted him to, as well. Like she was just waiting for him to do it first.

So, he did; leaned in quickly and pressed his lips to hers. Their noses bumped a bit and he moved so fast that she jumped a little – maybe talking about dead dad's probably wasn't the _opportune moment_ for this – but he kissed her.

Emma stayed very still, pressing her lips back against his, and he wondered if this was her first kiss, too.

He drew back, opening his eyes, and looked at her, shyly.

She smiled again.

And then her hands came up to each side of his face, tilting his head to the side, and then _she_ kissed _him_ this time.

It was better like that, tilted, their noses not in the way anymore and without that bothering him, he just felt her lips – so soft like he'd thought they would be – and the way they parted ever so slightly beneath his. It was nice, much nicer than he imagined a kiss would be, and he did the same, tentatively kissing her back, getting a little bit braver about it as the second ticked on until the little flutter in his tummy became even more distracting than usual – like somersaults – and his heart began to beat a little too fast in his chest.

He drew back, almost in a daze.

Wow.

He _definitely_ wanted to do that again.

Before he could, something over her shoulder got his attention, passed the dazed experience of it all.

Harry.

Harry was a little bit away with Grace and was giving him two thumbs up behind Emma's back and dancing on the spot: cheering his success.

Emma looked round, swiftly, to see what he was looking at and – although Harry quickly stopped – he didn't stop quick enough for her not to see.

She burst into giggles, turning back round to look at Malachi, and he rolled his eyes at his antics, blushing furiously, before laughing as well.

And then he leaned back in, kissing her again.

* * *

Harry had a spring in his step as he headed on his way to his occlumency lesson with Dumbledore.

Everything was _good_.

The weekend had been great. So great that he'd have happily stayed the rest of the holidays, if he hadn't had these lessons to get to.

But Mr. Black had come back just after lunch and, after conceding to play just one more game of Monopoly with them, had brought him and Grace back to Hogwarts.

Harry doubted Malachi was bothered that they were leaving. He was having _plenty_ of fun, without him.

But they were finally – properly – friends again and he'd learned how to fish, at last, and he smiled – even if he did realise it was silly to be so attached to it, the feelings it evoked about his dad, for his dad hadn't exactly engaged in the pursuit _willing_ – and he was feeling more than a little confident that this occlumency lesson was going to go well.

He was calm – happy, even – in a way he hadn't been for months. For the first time in ages, feeling like maybe there was a little bit of light in the darkness that surrounded them. Snape had always asserted that success in occlumency relied on an ability to maintain calm and composure; he just might manage that, tonight.

And, he was determined that Snape wasn't going to come back and be disappointed in him; he'd make sure he'd at least made _some_ progress in occlumency before their next lesson.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry was surprised to see Professor McGonagall in the hallway, close to the Headmaster's office, and he stopped when it was clear she had something to say.

"I'm afraid the Headmaster has been delayed with other business this evening, but he has sent his assurances that he will not be much longer, and you are welcome to wait in his office until he arrives."

Welcome to wait. Harry nodded, knowing that was an instruction rather than a request, and headed on up.

He smiled at the phoenix that was perched beside the door - " _Hey, Fawkes_ " - as he made his way in and to the chair at front of the desk. Dumbledore had so much _stuff_ , his eyes glancing from this and that, one trinket to the next, and then the Sorting Hat on the shelf and the Sword of Gryffindor encased in glass and mounted on the wall.

His eyes went to the sleeping portraits on the wall, the Headmasters before Dumbledore, and settled on Phineas Nigellas Black. Harry could see that there was a little bit of a resemblance between him and Malachi – certainly between him and Sirius and Mr. Black – but Harry found it impossible to like anything this particular Black had to say. Namely, because it tended to focus on the 'worthlessness' of his great-great grandson – Sirius – whenever Harry was in the room and didn't seem all that impressed by Malachi, either, though Malachi had told him he had never once spoken a word to him, the odd few times he was called to the Headmaster's office. He never mentioned Regulus Black.

Harry's eyes drifted, catching sight of something bright and silver, a light flickering from a slither of a gap in the black cabinet behind him.

He frowned, glancing between the peculiar light and the door to the office, pondering for a moment before he got to his feet to investigate.

He pulled open the door to the cabinet, eyes falling upon a small, stone basin sitting within it. The silvery lights – like a gas or maybe liquid, Harry couldn't tell – swirled within it and Harry stepped closer, curiously, in bewilderment at what it was he was looking at.

He glanced over his shoulder, back in the direction of the door – surely Dumbledore would be back, any moment – before he took out his wand, poking at the strange substance.

It swirled more rapidly, and then it formed something beneath the surface. A room; another _world_ it seemed. And Harry leaned closer, unable to help himself if he tried, eager to see what it was.

The lights swirled so much that he couldn't quite see properly – but he knew he didn't recognize the room in the basin – and he leaned closer, thinking he could see Dumbledore in there – maybe that's why he was late – and he leaned closer still, the very tip of his nose touching the substance.

And, then, suddenly he was lurched forward – Dumbledore's office left behind – and he was falling into the blackness and the cold – sucked into the whirlpool until he landed with a thud on his feet in the middle of the room.

Dumbledore was sitting behind a desk. Professor Trelawney was sitting opposite him – looking much, much younger, Harry realized – but, even then, Harry couldn't make sense of what had just happened.

"Pro-professors! I'm sorry. I was just –"

"Of course, not all can boast to having the inner eye…" Professor Trelawney was speaking to Dumbledore, neither of them even acknowledging his presence, much less the fact that he had just dropped in on them from the sky – from another _dimension_ – and Dumbledore was nodding, politely, and even Harry could see he was unimpressed with what the woman before him was saying.

Harry stepped towards them, not even listening to the words spoken between each of them, for this was clearly some sort of staff appraisal meeting. Or, maybe, an interview; it certainly sounded like it was an interview, the questions and the answers that were being exchanged back and forth.

Harry felt a moment of panic seize him; had he somehow stepped into some weird time warp and thrown himself back into the past? If that were the case, how was he supposed to get _back_?

He looked, hurriedly, around the room, for any sign of the basin that had sucked him into this place but it was nowhere in sight.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry stepped up closer to him, quickly waving a hand in front of him, but he carried on speaking with Professor Trelawney as if Harry were not even there.

Harry stepped back, eyes going in the direction of the door, before he headed towards it. Maybe the basin would be through there.

It was open a crack, Harry noticed, so he made to go out but when he reached to try and open the door, his hand just went through it, unable to make any changes to whatever strange place he suddenly found himself.

"Well, I must thank you for your time, Miss Trelawney," Dumbledore said, getting to his feet and making his way around the desk, before reaching to shake her hand; "I shall be in touch –"

Harry leaned to look through the gap between the door and the wall, at what was beyond it, and then stopped, stunned where he stood, to find himself suddenly eye to eye with beady dark eyes – eyes that were very, very familiar to him.

It was _Snape_.

A much, much _younger_ Snape.

He barely even looked older than _him._

"Professor Snape?" Harry said, frowningly, even though he knew at this point that the other man couldn't hear him.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches."_

Harry spun round.

Professor Trelawney stood in the middle of the room – though she would surely be on the floor had Dumbledore not had such a tight grip of her hand and arm, eyes upon her in concern – and her eyes were glazed, her mouth sagging; her voice loud and harsh, nothing at all like she sounded in Harry's divination lessons.

"… _born to those who have thrice defied them, born as the seventh months dies –"_

"Oi! What you doin' in here!" a voice behind the door called out, and Harry heard a thud and a scuffle but he ignored it, stepping closer to Dumbledore and Trelawney to hear, this…this _thing._

"… _and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."_

There was utter silence in the wake of the words spoken.

No one moved.

A moment, two, before Professor Trelawney came back to herself, looking at Dumbledore and clearing her throat; "Oh. Pardon me, Professor. I don't know what came over me for a minute, there. It must be the stuffiness of this room."

Dumbledore was looking at her with concern and, Harry recognised, great interest, now, that hadn't been there before; "Are you alright, Miss Trelawney?"

Harry frowned, not listening to any more, as the two exchanged meaningless pleasantries, but then anything else spoken seemed meaningless in the immediate aftermath of what had just been said.

"The one with the power…" Harry murmured, with a frown, replaying the words in his head; "born as the seventh…"

Had that been about _him?_

It…it had to be.

Marked as his equal.

The equal part, obviously, made no sense, for he was certainly no way Voldemort's _equal,_ as Snape was always so keen to point out.

Snape.

Harry quickly looked back at the gap.

Snape was gone.

"Harry."

Harry wheeled round at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, at someone actually addressing him, and found the Headmaster – a _second_ Headmaster – at his side.

"I think we've seen quite enough, wouldn't you say?"

He took Harry's arm and the same cold whirlwind of a spin came over him once more, before he landed with a thud back in Dumbledore's office.

Harry stumbled back from the basin; "What…what was – is – that? Was…was that real?"

Dumbledore clicked the door to the cabinet shut, indicating with a nod that Harry take a seat at the desk, as he moved to do the same; "That is a pensieve, Harry."

A pensieve.

Harry knew what they were. He'd heard about them before. His mum used them, sometimes, as part of her work.

Harry sat down, slowly, realizing what that meant; "That…that was one of your memories."

"I find sometimes that I have just a little too much up here to think clearly," Dumbledore said with a smile, as he sat behind his desk; "Particularly in these times. It is useful, easier even, to be able to sort them out in this manner; look for patterns, clues which may provide answers to questions we are searching for now. Much better than trying to remember every detail from memory."

Harry gave an uncertain nod.

"I suppose why bother when you could just take them out and look at them, again," Harry said, while looking frowningly in the cabinet's direction, where the pensieve was now hidden; "Um…oh. I'm sorry, Professor. I…I know I shouldn't have looked. The cabinet door was open…well, a little and I..."

"I quite understand, Harry," Dumbledore said, warmly.

Harry kept his eyes on the floor, as the words that Professor Trelawney had said kept replaying over and over in his mind, and he drew in a breath, raising his eyes back up to look back at him.

"That was about me, wasn't it? What Professor Trelawney said."

Dumbledore inclined his chin ever so slightly, an acquiescence.

"What was it? Some sort of…prediction? Or a…a prophecy?"

It sounded so ludicrous. There was no such thing as prophecies. Not real ones. And especially not about _him._

He was not special.

But, he realized, it _was_ about him. And Voldemort _had_ marked him. And Snape had been so sure that he had to be ready to fight him…

Harry swallowed.

Snape _knew_ about this.

Harry met Dumbledore's eyes.

"A great number of foresights are made; not all come to pass," Dumbledore explained; "In this particular case, yes. This predication is one that concerned both yourself and Tom."

Harry glanced away.

There was a prophecy about him. A prophecy that said _he_ was supposed to be the one that was meant to defeat _Voldemort._

_What?_

Harry shook his head.

But that was absurd.

How the hell was he supposed to do _that?_

"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice was concerned and as warm as it ever was when he spoke with him.

Harry met his eyes.

"Is there anything you wish you discuss?"

Harry considered it a moment.

No.

Snape knew about this.

Harry shook his head; "No, Sir."

Dumbledore held his look for a moment, as if to give Harry a chance to reconsider, before he gave him a smile; "My door is always open to you, Harry, should you change your mind."

Harry nodded, tried for a smile, but it didn't really come; "Thank you, Sir. Um…do…do you mind if we hold off on the lesson? I…I don't think I –"

"Certainly, Harry," Dumbledore nodded; "We shall resume our lesson on Wednesday evening, if that is convenient?"

Harry only nodded, glad of the dismissal, and got to his feet, heading from the office.

Harry made his way back to Remus' chambers in a daze, his mood far altered from the elation he had felt making his way there, as he tried to make sense of what he had just seen and learned.

There was a prophecy about him.

About him and Voldemort.

One that said he had powers – _powers –_ that Voldemort didn't and he was supposed to be able to use these mysterious powers to be able to defeat the very wizard who was currently waging a _war_ and that even Snape and Mr. Black and Dumbledore, combined, had been unable to defeat.

Harry could have laughed.

He could have laughed and laughed, for it was so ridiculous, if he were not, also, so horrified.

If the fate of the entire wizarding world truly did rest upon _his_ shoulders, it was no wonder Snape was so convinced that they were doomed.

Harry stepped across the threshold into Remus' chambers, giving a polite smile in Remus and Tonks' direction, where they were sitting at the kitchenette.

"Oh, I was just leaving, Harry –" Tonks began to stand up, but Harry held up a hand.

"No, don't. I mean, stay. I'm…I'm just gonna go to bed," he told them, not really wanting to speak to anyone.

He wondered if Remus knew. But if Remus knew, then his mum must know, and he was surely sworn to secrecy by her, so Harry would get nowhere asking him about it.

His mum must know. Snape knew.

He would have told her.

Harry climbed into the transfigured bed that Remus had set up in Grace's room for the holidays, eyes going to his sleeping sister's form a few feet away.

He was supposed to be able to save her.

Save _everyone._

Well.

No.

He could, also, just die, as well, the prophecy had suggested that, too.

The much more likely of the two events to happen.

_Neither can live with the other survives._

Harry leaned his head on the pillow, eyes going to the bedside table that sat between his and Grace's bed.

He frowned, when he noticed a little collection of white and brown spotted pebbles sitting upon it. Those were odd. They didn't look like any pebbles he'd ever seen.

He guessed Grace had picked them up from the beach that morning.

But nothing on the beach had looked like that, Harry would have noticed.

Well.

He _should_ have noticed.

He supposed he must have just missed them, too focused on the ocean to pay attention to the rocks, and Grace knew not to use magic out there. He'd told her and she'd promised.

Besides, he'd know if she _had_ because that would have triggered the Trace and then someone from the Ministry would have heard about it.

But no one had come for them.

* * *

Harry couldn't stop thinking about it.

It had been two days since he had fallen into Professor Dumbledore's pensieve.

Two days since the truth – a slither of it, anyway – had been revealed to him; the reason Voldemort had been so determined to kill him, that night he had told his Uncle Sirius to stand aside and allow him to do so.

Snape had known of it.

Of course, he had, Harry thought, bitterly; he always knew.

He knew everything. Held everything back.

At least, from Harry, he did.

Because whichever way Harry turned it over in his mind, he could not help but be certain that Voldemort knew the prophecy, too. He had certainly known that Harry was – he had to keep himself from scoffing – the _great threat_ that had come for him, or was supposed to, eventually, at some point.

But there were only two people there that night – for Professor Trelawney didn't seem to realise or remember what had happened – and they were Dumbledore and Snape.

And Harry knew what Snape had been.

There was only one person who could have told Voldemort what had been said that night.

Harry tried to deny it to himself at first – not wanting to believe it, no, not now, not when things were finally _good_ – and thought, maybe, it had happened again, sometime afterwards. Maybe Professor Trelawney had continued to make the same pronouncement. Even just to one more person would let Snape off the hook.

But Harry knew that was stupid.

Snape had been a Death Eater.

Harry didn't know when or why he had turned to Dumbledore or what had made him a spy, but he certainly hadn't been one of Dumbledore's men that night.

And so Harry spent the days brooding, turning it all over his mind, counting down the days until Snape would be back at the Castle – five more days to go – and he'd finally learn the truth of it once and for all.

Determined, that this time, Snape would tell him everything.

* * *

There was a stir in the quiet.

The quiet was always suspect. When the followers were not summoned before their Dark Lord, on their knees before him in open worship or writhing in agony, it meant that the wheels were in motion.

The wheels of a plan that only a select few knew the details of.

Severus was not one of those few.

Not this time.

Instead, he had been dispatched, with a scroll of requested potions, down to the basement of the Manor.

That would not do.

Severus spent the few days following entirely engrossed and up to his eyeballs in brewing – knowing better than to not turn in his best work – as he considered what measures could be taken to ensure that his rank was elevated, further, so that he would be privy to whatever was unfolding upstairs.

As far as he knew, only a small handful of followers were in this case.

Bellatrix.

Lucius.

Barty.

The Carrows.

And, if Severus' suspicions were confirmed, the mysterious Ministry contact who had been in and out of the Manor, several times that week.

There was a knock at the door to the basement, before it opened, and Narcissa walked in, a tray of refreshments held in her hands.

Severus fought to keep from frowning at the sight; "Narcissa."

He did not move from his spot behind the cauldron, as she put the tray down upon the desk in the corner.

"I thought you might be hungry."

Severus didn't point out that she was doing the work of a house elf, only inclined his head in thanks; "It is much obliged. Thank you."

Narcissa glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the door, before going on; "I also wanted to thank you. For all that you've been doing for Draco these past few years."

She stepped towards where he was standing and her behaviour was so odd, so out of place, that Severus knew there was something amiss.

"Only what is expected, of a Head of House towards one of his students," Severus stated, turning his attention to the brew before him; "He is a gifted student. Indeed, one of the most capable within his year."

A bit too soft, Severus did not say aloud, a bit too much like a certain cousin of his, at that age. Much too eager to please and to bend to the will of his parents which, in the case of Narcissa, may not prove to be too much of an issue.

His father's return, however, would not be without effect.

"Well, I'm glad to hear he's thriving. In that environment, at least," Narcissa said, and Severus glanced at her, briefly. Regulus had been right when he had said she was entirely readable – not at all suited to the role the Dark Lord had granted her with, when sending her back to the Foundation – and Severus shook his head ever so slightly, so that she might realise and change tact.

She didn't.

"He has struggled, I think, with the busyness of the Manor during his times here – particularly with the frequent inspections by the Ministry, much too close a call on each account – I had wanted to keep him at Hogwarts for the holidays but his father insisted…well. He misses him, of course."

Severus gave a nod, carrying on with his work.

"But I thought in the summer, I'd take him away. If the Dark Lord should grant us leave, of course. Allow him to be a boy for a little while; I'm sure there will be a number of assignments – an honour of course – placed upon him on his return to school in the September."

Severus glanced at her, wondering if Narcissa was trying to get him on board with convincing the Dark Lord to let Draco off the hook – not that he had been assigned a particularly grievous task – and surely she knew he could not get involved in such matters.

No one had that kind of influence – certainly not him – and even if he did, he would not exert it over something so minor as to absolve a child from merely reporting on what he could see with his very own eyes happening within the school.

"My sisters and I, we have fond memories of time spent at the beach as children. So, I had been looking along the coast. Wyndman's Brae or Rockley Mor –"

Severus glanced at her, at the drivel she was spouting, wondering when she would just get to it. He was so baffled at the words coming from her mouth that he almost missed it – almost – when the word slipped from her mouth.

"- Crail –"

Only years and years of carefully fostered control over himself and his emotions stopped him from dropping the entirety of the ingredients held within his hand into the cauldron it was suspended above, as his eyes snapped back to Narcissa's.

Her eyes were on him, even as she carried on speaking her utter nonsense – "…but, of course, the natural beauty of these areas are not enough to make up for the entirely repugnant presence of…" – and he nodded, slightly, so that she might understand he knew what it was she was trying to say.

She cut off, with a smile; "Forgive me, Severus. I quite got away from myself for a moment. Don't let me keep you from your brewing."

"No harm done, Narcissa."

She headed for the door, eyes glancing back at him, briefly, when she reached it before she slipped from the room.

Severus drew in a breath, unconsciously carrying on with the task at hand, even as his mind raced.

Crail.

The Dark Lord had found them.

It was Wednesday.

Harry and Grace would be – _should_ be – back at the Castle, for he had arranged their visit only for the weekend, prior. Though the possibility that they _weren't_ was not a risk he was willing to take.

And, even if Harry and Grace were safely back at Hogwarts, Regulus and Malachi most certainly wouldn't be.

There were few – very few – things that Severus might risk blowing his cover for. A fact that caused frequent tension previously – and was likely to continue to do so, in times ahead – between himself and Harry.

But this was one of them.

* * *

Kissing was easy once they'd done it a few times.

Malachi was careful not to press too close.

To _'be a gentleman'_ as his dad had insisted, during his mortifying speech last summer on how to conduct oneself when getting 'familiar' with the opposite sex.

It was a bit difficult, though, when they were lying down where they were on the grass in the park.

"There's a fair coming into the village over this weekend," Emma told him, as she drew back a bit; "You wanna go?"

It was a stark reminder of his impending departure.

"Oh," Malachi glanced down, "I can't. I…I have to go back to school tomorrow."

"Oh."

She sounded disappointed, drawing back from him a bit more to look at him at the – probably completely unexpected - statement. _He_ was disappointed. He'd quite happily just stay here and be Max for the rest of the year.

"Yeah, it's…it's a boarding school," Malachi explained; "I won't be back for a while."

Not until the summer.

And Emma would have long forgotten him by then.

Malachi was sure he'd never forget her.

"Well, you could call," she suggested.

Malachi gave a small smile, wishing that were true; "They're kind of anti-technology over there. It's all quills and parchment and, what do they call it, snail mail?"

He said it as if it were a joke and she grinned, raising her eyebrows.

"Write me then. You can show off all those impressive calligraphy skills they must be teaching you."

"Alright," Malachi agreed, wondering if that was something he could actually make work. There was a ton of underhanded exchanges and favours like that going on under the professors' noses – well, maybe not quite like this particular situation – but he was sure he'd be able to find someone to make a trade off with. Obviously, not in Slytherin; they'd need to be a muggleborn, with links to the muggle world. Maybe the Ravenclaws would have someone.

"And I'll write you," Emma said, complicating the situation further – that'd be a bit harder to navigate – before she asked; "Which school is it?"

"Oh, I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's top secret."

"Top secret?" she repeated, with a laugh in her voice; "Sounds awfully mysterious."

"That's right," Malachi was grinning as he said it; "You could even say other worldly."

"Oh my, I had no idea you were so special, Max," Emma tilted her head to the side and Malachi chuckled, leaning in for another kiss.

"I'll write you first," Malachi told her when he drew back, a bit more confident that he'd be able to find someone to sort this out with; "Return address will be on the letter. I won't know it until I get back."

"That right?"

"Would I lie to you?" Malachi countered.

"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't dream of it, Son."

Malachi spun to look over his shoulder, beyond horrified to see his _dad_ standing on the grass just a few feet away from them.

He quickly sat up; "Dad."

His dad's arms were crossed and he was eyeing him where he sat and he looked _mad._

"Well. You certainly are enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"I…"

Emma sat up beside him, looking between them at the obviously less-than-warm exchange and lifted a hand, giving a small smile; "Um. Hi Mr. Smith –" Malachi could barely keep from cringing at the name he'd plucked from thin air when she'd asked his surname; " – I'm Emma."

His dad's expression softened slightly under her smile and he gave her a small one in turn; "It's nice to meet you, Sweetheart. Do you mind if I borrow my son for a moment?"

Emma raised her eyebrows, glancing between them and shaking her head; "Uh, no. Sure."

His dad turned and strode several meters away, to the edge of the trees that lined the clearing they had been lying in, and Malachi reluctantly got to his feet and followed.

His dad was glowering into the woods when Malachi reached him, not meeting his eyes.

"You have two minutes –" he said, lowly; " – to say goodbye to that girl."

"Dad –"

Furious eyes met his then.

"Don't tell me that's not generous."

Malachi didn't have to be told twice.

He turned and hurried back, getting to his knees at Emma's side; "You got a…a pen?" He hoped that was right, what it was called, but Emma knew what he meant, even if it was wrong, and reached into her back jean pocket.

"I have an eyeliner pencil."

"Here, write your address on my hand," Malachi whispered, careful to keep his back to his dad and his hand low so that he wouldn't see.

Emma grinned, leaning in close and quickly scribbling it onto his palm.

Malachi looked at the scribble, committing it to memory, when she was done and raised his eyes to hers, giving her a warm smile; "I'll write you," he promised.

Her smile widened; "You better."

Malachi hesitated, aware his dad's eyes were upon them, and Emma looked uncertain, too, that they actually had an audience. But then Malachi smirked and leaned in, kissing her deeply, and she laughed into his mouth, her hands coming up to either side of his face, kissing him back with the same enthusiasm.

Emma was blushing when he drew back and got to his feet.

He gave her one last smile, turned and made his way in the direction of his dad.

He did his best not to physically shrink under the weight of the disappointment that was clearly visible in his dad's eyes but he didn't have to look at it for long as, once his dad was sure he was coming, he turned his back on him and walked ahead.

They walked back in the direction of the cottage, his dad a few steps in front.

"Thought you said you wouldn't be home 'till lunch," Malachi finally said, already beginning to regret his behaviour when his dad's silence stretched. He never did well under his dad's censure.

His dad's head turned slightly, as if to look at him, but he didn't, stopping himself, and instead opted to carry on walking when he answered; "With it being your last day I thought you might want the company. Though you seem to have taken good enough care of that yourself."

Malachi glowered, bristling under his dad's disapproval; "You shouldn't have bothered."

His dad spun round – obviously that was enough to ignite the fury that Malachi had noticed brimming – and Malachi froze in his steps.

"Have you lost your mind?" his dad's voice was low, but just as livid as if he had bellowed; "Bad enough to be sneaking out _at all_ , but to be with this girl?"

"She's a nice girl, Dad. You'd like her."

"She's a muggle."

"So? Julia's muggleborn."

His dad – if it were possible – looked even more furious at the comparison; "Muggle _born,_ Malachi. But still a witch. You know Wizarding Law; the Statute prohibits this."

Malachi shook his head – he knew the Statute inside out – and said; "That's not true. Wizards can be with muggles."

"Under the bonds of marriage. You're a fourteen-year-old boy."

"I haven't told her anything."

"You think I didn't hear what you were saying to her?"

"I was joking, Dad. She knew it was a joke."

"No, Son, she _thought_ it was a joke."

Malachi gave a shrug; "Well, I don't believe in the Statute of Secrecy, anyway."

His dad's eyes closed, utter exasperation replacing his fury for a moment; "Malachi. Don't start."

"It should be abolished. I don't recognize it."

"This is not a joke, Son!" his dad snapped, his voice rising for the first time during their exchange; "This is not some political statement, this is your _life_. Do you know what they do to underage wizards who breach the Statute of Secrecy? Malachi, they could _expel_ you for this."

"Good. I hate it there, anyway."

"Since _when_?"

"Since always. I'd rather just stay –"

His dad grabbed him, suddenly pushing him down, his wand drawn in a flash and a spell was quickly – barely – deflected and struck a nearby tree.

"Wha –"

More spells were fired their way and his dad scrambled to throw up a shield charm; "Malachi, Malachi, the portkey –"

Malachi reached into his pocket, frantically, while attempting to duck the spells that were firing at them from all sides – the ones his dad couldn't deflect – and he got a hold of the portkey but as he tugged the fabric that covered it, he was knocked to the side by his dad as he struggled to deflect another shot of light and the notebook fell to the ground, tumbling a few feet away.

"Get you wand out, Son!"

Malachi drew it and fired a spell at one of the masked figures – the _Death Eaters,_ Malachi realized with rising panic – that was gaining on them – but it was, obviously, deflected immediately – and the Death Eater he had aimed for cackled with laughter as he felt his dad grab him and throw him behind himself.

"Aww, look at little Reggie protecting his itty baby Black," a horrible voice purred from behind the mask; "Oh, he does look like us, doesn't he?"

Malachi gripped his wand tight and deflected another spell that fired their way from the left – another and another – but it was less ferocious than when they had first attacked, having quickly managed to surround them.

"Let him go and I'll come with you."

"No. Dad!"

There was another cackle of laughter from behind the same mask that spoke; "Do you think this is a negotiation, baby cousin? Dream, dream, dreamer, that's what me and my sisters always used to call you -" she twirled her wand between her fingers, up next to her face; "- head always up in the clouds."

His dad looked down, gripping his wand tight, before he glowered at the masked woman before him. There were five of them, Malachi counted, and he felt his dad's hand on his arm, squeezing it tight, his voice a whisper; "Son. Get to that portkey."

That was the rule.

It was always the rule.

Malachi was to run and he was to leave his dad behind.

Let them take him.

But now that it was actually _happening_ Malachi couldn't move from his place behind him.

He couldn't.

The masked woman swiped her wand past her face, revealing herself to them. She looked so much like his Auntie Andie that Malachi couldn't look away from her for a moment.

And then her eyes glinted in a way that his aunt's never had, as she snarled and lifted her wand and shot spell after spell after spell after spell at his dad, with a speed and a ferocity that made the combat training they'd been engaged in at the Duel Club look like a complete and utter _joke –_ it didn't even come close to preparing them for _this_ – and his dad struggled and struggled and struggled to deflect the attack until, finally, one got him and he hit the ground.

It took all of ten seconds for it to happen, the woman – his Auntie Andie's sister – was so fast. So fast that Malachi only just registered that his dad was still conscious and _breathing_ before he, himself, was hit with something so excruciating that he hit the ground screaming.

" _Crucio_!"

"No! Bella! NO!"

He could only just hear his dad's voice past the agony, past his own wails, the burning and the coiling and the searing and the throbbing and the piercing – it was every kind of pain imaginable, _worse_ than what was imaginable, rolled into one – and he sobbed and screamed and begged for it to stop.

He twisted and writhed and turned and moved every which way, any way he could, for relief, just to make it _stop_ but the searing pain only increased with each passing second and he screamed and screamed and screamed; it was _torture._ But even that word didn't do justice how it felt.

He would surely die.

He _wanted_ to die.

He screamed for it to stop. Begged them. Begged them.

Or maybe it was his dad who was begging for it to stop. His voice was so faint and Malachi was lost in his own torment.

And, then, abruptly, it ceased and there were spells being fired from everywhere above him, all of a sudden, and there were screeches and yells and the scramble of battle all around him where he lay.

His dad skidded to his knees beside him, looking at him for a second with his hand on his cheek – " _Malachi_ " – and then he was back up on his feet but his dad didn't leave his side as he continued to duel the Death Eaters that had come for them.

Malachi tried to clutch for his wand, tried to get his own heaving breaths and the twitch of his limbs under control, but his arms and legs wouldn't move the way he wanted them to and little spasms of pain kept firing through his veins and he was just uselessly lying there, his eyes darting back and forth among those who were fighting and he realized, then, that the Order had come.

Dora was there.

And there were others – more than enough to outnumber the Death Eaters – and he heard the sound, the pops of the disapparating Death Eaters begin to join the dimming sound of battle, as he drew in a trembling breath and his eyes drifted closed.

* * *

Regulus stood at the door to his son's room, watching as Julia moved around his unconscious form, lifting his eyelids and checking his vitals and holding various phials and goblets of potions to his lips, before waving a lit wand over his small frame.

He looked so small, so fragile where he lay upon the bed.

If Regulus had thought he was beside himself when he had returned home early that morning – with the intention of surprising his son with a trip into muggle Manchester for the afternoon – then he had been in for a rude awakening.

He had stalked the winding streets of the village – quickly deducing from the absence of his son's muggle jeans and jacket, that his son had blatantly disregarded the rules and had left the house _willingly_ – for a good half hour before he'd finally caught sight of his son fooling around – so visibly that Regulus had almost convinced himself that it couldn't possibly be him – in the park with a girl.

To say that Regulus was furious was an understatement. But, of course, that was not the worst of it.

There was then the overhearing of the comments his son was making – flippantly – about other worlds and quills and parchments and a vow to actually continue a communication with this girl beyond his current – entirely unacceptable – behaviour.

And then came the attitude.

And then the Statute disregard.

And, then, the worst of it.

A thing of his worst nightmares.

Death Eaters turning up on their doorstep – how on this Earth had that happened – and his sociopathic _bitch_ of a cousin brutalizing his boy right in front of him as he lay bound on the grass helpless to do anything but beg for his son's life, and Regulus was entirely convinced that that had been the plan – the ferocity of his cousin's magic leaving no room for doubt – that she was either about to kill his son right in front of him or drive him to madness before Dora had turned up along with others from the Order – the Ministry branch – and saved their skins.

He surely had Severus to thank for that.

Julia approached him, leaving Malachi where he lay on the bed, and Regulus straightened up.

"Is he…"

"He's going to be fine, Regulus."

He felt the tension – most of it, anyway – leave him at her assurance.

"It was a lot. Especially for a kid. But he's tough. He'll be a little weak for a few days – he's probably not gonna be ready for school - and I've given him something to keep him under, at least until the morning. Most of the aftershocks will have subsided by then."

Regulus nodded, glancing in his son's direction. He'd be happy to keep him home a little longer, not quite willing to be parted from him any time soon after what had just happened.

"There's Elmaroot –" Julia went on, placing the phials on the top of the dresser at their side; "And sycamore bark – they'll keep the tremors at bay. They can't be prevented, completely, they'll need to be ridden out. But his pupils, his brain function – there's nothing to worry about there."

Regulus gave her a small smile, his voice quiet, grateful; "Thank you, Julia."

Julia's eyes flickered between his for a second, as if she were reading every thought and fear going through his mind. So much so that he almost looked away – to shield either her or himself from it, he wasn't sure – and then she stepped in further and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close.

Regulus didn't even realise he'd needed it.

Not until he was held in her arms.

But when he did, he leaned on her, face burying into her shoulder as his own arms came up to hold her tight.

He had to let her go, treacherous reality reminded him, but the thought only made him hold on tighter. Did so until Julia drew back to look at him, their arms still wound round one another.

"I could stay," she suggested; "In case he wakes in the night and needs something."

Regulus frowned, glancing at his son with concern; "Oh. Do you think he will?"

She had just said he'd be fine and out until morning.

When Julia didn't say anything, he met her eyes once more, and she got a wry smile, shaking her head; "No. No, probably not."

Regulus chuckled and leaned his forehead to hers.

At her unspoken offer to stay to tend to his frayed nerves.

_He had to let her go._

He could never do it. He could never say no to the people he loved. He could never turn them away.

Regulus pressed his lips to her temple.

Julia drew him closer and, of course, he went.

Telling himself it'd just be one more night.

* * *

Malachi felt like he had slept for an eternity, so groggy was he when he had finally woken, and there was a lightness in his head and a spinning of the ground beneath his feet when he tried to get up.

His dad was at his side, instantly, Julia not too far behind and they had ordered him bedrest for the rest of the weekend.

So, in bed he had stayed.

He lasted until Sunday morning – a full two days – before he grew restless and pushed off the covers and made his way to the kitchen.

He didn't feel as bad as Julia had warned him he might.

Maybe she'd just had a feeling about what was about to come next.

"What's going on?" Malachi frowned, upon entry to the kitchen, when he saw his dad and Julia in deep conversation – obvious concern in both their expressions – but his dad's concern about whatever it was they were talking about quickly became concern for him when he noticed him up.

"Malachi," he walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder; "You shouldn't be up. Did you need something?"

"Uh, yeah. To get out of bed," Malachi said, glancing between him and Julia, clearly picking up on the fact something was definitely wrong; "What is it? What happened?"

His dad shook his head, releasing a breath; "It's nothing you need to worry yourself about right now, Son."

"So, there's something then," Malachi's eyes went to the table, where two newspapers were strewn, and he quickly caught sight of the Dark Mark, suspended in the air in a moving swirl, and there was a picture of Crail beside it.

He looked back at his dad, quickly; "The Death Eaters. They…they're still here?"

His dad gave a reluctant nod, sharing a look with Julia; "Yeah. There was an attack on the village last night. One of the families by the park."

Malachi stepped by him and lifted the newspaper, the muggle one, slowly, a feeling of dread coming over him as he glanced at the words beneath the headlines.

_Mysterious circumstances…four dead…no survivors…local fisherman, Malcolm MacLean, his wife, Mary, and two children, David, aged seventeen and Emma, aged fourteen._

"So, that's his plan? Attack the villagers until you give yourself up?" Julia was saying, past the ground disappearing beneath Malachi's feet.

"No," his dad said, his voice sounding far away; "It'd be too much of a breach; put the muggles on their guard. He enjoys his games, messing with the Ministry, but an entire village? This…this is –" his dad seemed to struggle to make sense of what it was Voldemort had actually been trying to accomplish in this.

But Malachi knew.

"Dad," Malachi's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Malachi?" his dad's hand was on his arm, his face immediately concerned; "Son, what is it?"

"It's…it's them, the MacLean's…that's…"

"The muggles? You know them? How –"

Malachi met his dad's eyes but he couldn't see him, couldn't make him out through the blurriness of his vision, past the tight knot that was forming in his stomach; "Dad."

"Oh. Son."

His dad realised, then, it was there in his voice. Still, Malachi found the words pour from him, almost in a stutter.

"I…I never told her anything. She didn't…she didn't know anything. Why…why would they –"

His words ended on a sob.

"Shh. Shh. I've got you," his dad pulled him close, holding him tight.

Malachi clutched at him, his eyes squeezed shut, as he sobbed into his dad's chest; it couldn't be true. It couldn't be true.

Emma couldn't be dead. Not because of him.

"Shh. I've got you, Son."

She couldn't be.

She couldn't.


	66. May 1995: The Lonely

Malachi turned the Walkman over in his hands – he could only look at it, here, for it didn't work in _his_ dark, twisted world – and leaned his head back against the pillows propped behind him.

It had already been a week since he'd last seen her.

He was ready, now, physically to go back to school – Julia had checked him over that morning – but only if he wanted to, his dad had said. He'd keep him home, longer, if he just said the word.

As much as he didn't want to be back at Hogwarts, Malachi didn't really want to stay home, either. Not here. Not anymore. Especially now that the boxes were down and ready to be packed up; he and his dad moving on, now that their home for the past eight years was no longer safe for them.

He didn't want to be here for that.

He didn't, really, want to be anywhere.

So Malachi leaned his head back and closed his eyes and clutched the Walkman and pretended he could actually hear it; the music that had played in his ear on the beach as Emma sat opposite him, smiling and laughing and _alive._

There was a knock on his bedroom door, and Malachi opened his eyes just as his dad's head popped round it.

"Mind if I come in?"

Malachi shook his head, glancing down, and shifted over slightly.

His dad came over, making as if to sit on the edge of the bed – as he normally would – but instead changed tact and sat up higher, swinging his legs up over the side so that the two of them were sitting side by side.

Neither of them said anything at first.

His dad didn't seem to know what to say, in the days that followed. He was just there, holding him, whenever he needed it.

His dad _should_ know what to say. He should know what he was supposed to do. He'd lost his mum for the same reason.

But then, his dad hadn't known what to say back then, either.

"Tell me about her," his dad finally said.

Malachi glanced down, as he remembered the things his dad _had_ said to him, right before all of this had happened. His voice was quiet; "You don't want to hear about her, Dad."

"I do."

"She…" Malachi swallowed, eyes on the Walkman in his hand; "She was just a muggle."

His dad turned and Malachi met his eyes. They were filled with an understanding, a warmth and a compassion that he wasn't expecting to see, when his dad said, quietly; "She was not _just_ a muggle."

Malachi lowered his eyes, drawing in a breath; "Um…she…she liked the, uh, the ocean and swimming. She said we'd go swimming in the sum – uh, she liked…she liked school and, um…" Malachi found it hard to even talk about her, to remember back on the things he'd learned and knew about her, his voice becoming quieter; "she liked music…and…we didn't dance but…she liked that too. And um…she wanted to -" Malachi swiped at the rogue tear that had slipped down his cheek; "she wanted to…to go places. And…and see things –" his voice broke then and he looked away.

She wanted to _live._

Malachi didn't want to – couldn't – talk about her.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that's why his dad had never known what to say when they'd lost his mum.

It had taken years before he hadn't looked sad, mentioning her.

His dad's hand appeared next to his, as if reaching for the Walkman, and Malachi handed it over as he asked; "Did she give you this?"

"It doesn't work."

His dad turned it over in his hands – looking as bewildered as Malachi had felt the first time Emma had given it to him – before he gave it back to him.

The two of them just sat there, lost in their own thoughts.

He wanted to ask his dad if it got better. If it still hurt when he thought about his mum and he had just gotten good at hiding it. The guilt of it was almost as bad as the grief, to know Emma had died simply for knowing him.

But he didn't.

He knew his dad carried that. And not just because of his mum.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Son?"

"Are you gonna marry Julia?"

His dad glanced down, considering the words for a moment, as he drew in a breath. And when he met Malachi's eyes again his smile was small and wry, and he shook his head; "No. I'm not."

"She said no?"

It was both surprising and not. They obviously loved each other. They obviously couldn't get married.

"Not yet."

Malachi glanced down, realizing what his dad meant. And he swallowed; "Why did you ask her, then?"

His dad didn't answer right away. As if he were weighing it, whether or not to actually say it – for he, surely, had a reason as this had happened almost two weeks ago, now – and then he said;

"Because I want to. And I forgot myself, for a moment."

It became clearer then, why his dad had stopped before saying it. The truth of it. It was the reality, not just for his dad, anymore, but for him, too.

They would always be alone.

"And we can't ever forget," Malachi said, quietly.

His dad shook his head; "No." His dad met his eyes, and there was such shame and regret in his when Malachi looked at him; "I'm so sorry, Son."

Malachi shook his head – rejecting the apology – and leaned his head on his dad's shoulder.

He still had his dad.

Even that, that day, had no longer been a given.

Malachi leaned in closer, and he felt his dad press a kiss to the top of his head, before he spoke again.

"Come on."

His dad got to his feet, reaching and taking the Walkman from his hands.

Malachi looked up at him with a frown; "Where are we going?"

His dad gave him a smile, before eyeing the device in his hand, and saying; "Somewhere it works."

Malachi looked at him for a second, before getting a small smile and getting to his feet.

His dad put an arm around his shoulders, gave it a squeeze, as the two of them made their way from the room.

* * *

_He killed Emma._

Harry stared down at the piece of parchment clutched in his hand.

It had arrived by owl that morning – _Friday_ – by which time Harry had already heard the full story. He'd been more than a little concerned when Malachi hadn't turned up to school the previous Friday – as he'd knew had been arranged – and with each day he _didn't_ Harry grew more and more concerned.

Until on Monday, once classes began, the whispers started.

Whispers about 'Regulus Black's son and that muggle girl' that began to filter through the year groups, little bits and pieces, that had Harry's blood run cold. For if everyone knew about Emma…

Tonks had been at Remus' on the Tuesday.

She was there a lot now.

But, still, they pretended there was nothing odd or, even, _good_ going on there. She was just an expected presence, now, and she'd come up with some excuse for being there whenever Harry dropped by about making preparations for the Duel Club or the Defence Curriculum updates.

Harry was glad of her presence that night, when she was able to detail the full story to him – as much as she knew, in any case – and he learned the truth of what had happened to Emma and Malachi and Mr. Black after he and Grace had left.

Harry glanced back at the note.

_He killed Emma._

The note was so blunt, so devoid of information, that where Malachi's head was at right now was obvious. Harry had seen, with his own eyes, how besotted he had been with the blonde girl from the beach.

Harry ignited the parchment, letting it burn, even if there was no point in keeping it a secret now. Everyone at Hogwarts already - somehow - seemed to know.

Billowing black robes – the very ones Harry had almost given up hope of spotting – were suddenly caught in Harry's line of vision.

It was so fleeting – Snape striding past the doors to the Great Hall – that Harry would have easily missed it.

Be he didn't.

Harry got to his feet, hurrying after him.

Snape hadn't turned back up at the Castle when expected, either, and once the whispers began to filter Harry had been concerned – more than a little – that, possibly, Snape had got caught up in it, too.

But his worries were put to rest when, during his potions double period on the Tuesday, Snape had strode into the room as if he there was nothing amiss, he had never been away.

But he was there – handing out assignments – and then he was gone and Harry didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

Or the Wednesday.

Or the Thursday.

That wouldn't be happening again.

Harry hurried down the stairs to the dungeons – Snape had somehow managed to get out of sight – but he would surely be going down here.

Harry hurried up, further - so much so that he was almost scrambling to catch up – and, when he eventually reached the corridor and caught sight of Snape's office up ahead, he stopped suddenly upon seeing Snape, himself, standing at the unopened door, looking directly his way with his arms crossed.

Harry didn't hesitate. He approached him, immediately, lest the man try to make his escape.

But Snape didn't, he just stood there and waited until Harry stopped in front of him.

Snape eyed him, carefully for a moment, before he turned – unlocking the charms on the door – and went inside, leaving the door open as an invitation for Harry to follow.

Harry did, closing the door behind him.

"Might I suggest a less conspicuous arrival next time, Mr. Potter?" Snape said, his back to him as he made his way over to the desk, before he stepped around the back and began opening the drawer and pulling out the few items that usually scattered it. A journal, some ink, parchment, old books –

"I want you to tell me about the prophecy."

Snape looked at him, sharply.

Harry hadn't meant to say it so bluntly, nor so quickly, but he had waited long enough.

Snape pushed the drawer beneath his desk shut, before straightening and looking at him, closely; "What do you know about it?"

"Not enough," Harry said, stepping forward; "But I know what it said. And I know you were there. And I know…I know that – _you_ were the one who passed it on. Right? You're the one that told him."

Snape looked at him, soberly for a moment, before he simply said; "Yes."

That was it.

Yes.

_Yes._

No apology. No explanations.

Just; yes.

Ugh! Harry could just…could just _punch_ Snape sometimes for his bluntness, so devoid of normal, _human_ feelings of remorse and of empathy and of –

Harry turned away, furiously, because that prophecy – _that prophecy_ – was the reason that Sirius was _dead._ He died because of that thing. And Harry stormed for the door, once again burned for making the grave, stupid error, of trusting Severus Snape, and he grabbed the handle, making to yank it open.

But Harry hesitated.

Closed his eyes and bowed his head – called on the calm he had, finally, learned – and then drew in a breath and turned back around. He walked back up to him, closer this time, so that there was only the desk between them.

If Snape were impressed or alarmed by his decision not to storm off, he didn't show it – of course, Merlin forbid – and simply looked at him.

"I want you to tell me everything."

"That is something you know very well I cannot do."

"Not the spy stuff. The _us_ stuff. You've been sitting on this, the whole time. I've been telling you things – you knew I knew he was after me – so why not just tell me then? Why leave me to just _wonder_ and feel like _I'd_ killed my Uncle Sirius when…"

"When it was me?" Snape said, eyeing him; "Is that the crime laid at my feet?"

"Are you even _sorry_?"

Snape drew in a breath, eyes still on his, and then he said, with only the slightest increment of warmth; "Yes, Mr. Potter. I am. As I have said before, I do not take any pleasure in any actions of mine that have had the consequence of causing any pain to either yourself, or those whom I care for."

Harry sighed – barely able to keep from _groaning_ at the long-winded response – and said; "Then just say 'sorry'. Say 'sorry, Mr. Potter, I made a mistake. This is what you're up against' and then tell me what I'm up against!"

"You really need to talk to your mother about this."

"Mum's not here. _You're_ here –" as if his _mum_ would tell him anything " – this can't wait anymore. This thing you've been trying to hide from me and trying to get me ready for, it's happening _now._ How can you expect me to do this if you won't even tell me what we're up against?"

Snape was staring at him – still – but it was no longer as stoically as before – as _always –_ rather, it was as if he were actually considering it. The benefits against the cost of Harry actually _knowing_ something for once.

And then he indicated the seat at Harry's side.

Harry sat down.

Snape didn't.

An expectant wait in silence before Snape finally spoke.

"The prophecy was made in the winter of nineteen-seventy-eight. I turned over the details of what I had heard to the Dark Lord in the first instance –" Harry made to open his mouth, unable to help himself, but Snape cut him off; " – if you want to hear this, you'll hear it, and silently –"

Harry leaned back, shutting up, Snape waiting until he did so before he went on.

"In the summer following, two boys were born. Both fit the criteria and the Dark Lord was paranoid enough, even at the height of his power, that the threat must be eliminated. He, obviously, did not believe that an infant possessed such powers as to be able to defeat him. But the Dark Lord was on the brink of victory - the Wizarding World bowing beneath his influence, as one by one each institution was infiltrated and fell –"

Harry swallowed. This was what was going to happen to them. And soon.

"- and with his victory within his grasp, his attention was no longer upon only the war but what would come next, when he were to finally rule."

It was a stark, hard truth – an alarming one – how close Voldemort had been, how different the world would have been - and would be – if this prediction were true, and Harry – _he_ – was supposed to hold the key to their victory.

Snape went on.

"An infant may not pose such a threat in the cradle. But, perhaps, twenty years forth, or even, thirty, that infant would no longer be something to simply be sneered at. And the Dark Lord – the entire Wizarding World – was certain that this is what we were headed for. The Dark Lord's ascension and regime. As such, the Dark Lord took action. And he named _you_ as his adversary."

"But the prophecy said he would mark his equal – if it said that, why didn't he just stay away?"

"The Dark Lord was not privy to the contents of the prophecy in its entirety - even now, he is aware of only half of it – as I was ejected from the building before Professor Trelawney's declaration was completed."

Harry considered the statement.

"Do you know it, now?" he asked him; "All of it?"

"I know enough."

Harry stared at him, and recited it, word for word - for it was etched into his memory, now - so that Snape _would_ know of it, before the conversation - and this fight - went on; " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."_

Snape's eyes were on the desk, the slightest of frowns on his brow.

"Did you know all that?" Harry asked.

Snape met his eyes. The frown was gone. Suddenly, composed.

"The majority. Yes."

"Dumbledore told you?"

Trusted you.

Harry didn't understand. He didn't understand how – or why – Dumbledore would trust Snape, after that.

Snape did not confirm the statement – the question – and then Harry realized.

"Mum told you."

That made even less sense to Harry. That he and his mum had been friends – surely they had only been friends, as this was before Harry was born – despite him being a Death Eater. And she a muggleborn.

"I don't understand. If mum told you… _why_ would she tell you? If you knew one another –"

"I learned of it years later. Upon our reconciliation."

"Reconciliation. Then you knew each other, before?"

"Yes."

Okay. That made the tiniest bit more sense.

"But it…it wasn't really me, was it?" Harry said, as he digested the information Snape had told him, as it didn't add up to the history. Not the history he knew about; "He went after Neville Longbottom, first."

"You were a decoy. With the darkness rising and the reality of the world the Dark Lord was offering become more and more apparent with each of his victories, even the most devoted of followers were beginning to break ranks. There were defectors – "

"Mr. Black?"

"Far more than only one, Mr. Potter, the majority of which did not make it into the stories. And the Dark Lord knew of this. He, of course, had spies of his own."

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Yes. Another one of several. And as he was aware there was a spy within his own ranks, feeding information to the Order of the Phoenix – Albus Dumbledore was, and remains, the only other wizard the Dark Lord truly fears – he sought to throw said spy off course. He selected you as a decoy and hunted Neville Longbottom. The Headmaster suspected that he might and hid you both."

"And it worked, throwing off the spy? Death Eaters still came for us. For my dad."

"Those circumstances were unrelated to the prophecy; vengeance, for the fall of their Lord."

Harry nodded.

"Okay. So. Who was the spy working with Dumbledore? Mr. Black?"

For the first time in the conversation, Snape looked away.

And the answer to Harry's question was surprising clear when he looked back at him.

"It was you?"

Snape neither confirmed nor denied it; which was confirmation enough.

But that…that made no sense.

"I don't understand," Harry shook his head, trying to untangle it all; " _You're_ the one who told him the prophecy. So, what happened between winter and summer to make you change your mind?"

Snape simply stared back at him.

"Oh."

_Oh._

Wait _._

_What?_

"But…my mum. And my dad. They were still together then," Harry said, wondering if his head was going to explode with all of this – this information that had been held back from him all this time; "I saw it."

"That was irrelevant. Your mother was not informed of my involvement."

"But…I don't…you defected because of _us_. You became a spy to…to protect us? And you never told us that's what you were doing? And we were just supposed to…live?"

Harry met his eyes, uncertainly, as the truth of it sunk in; "You became a spy to protect _us_."

"My concern was a bit more focused than you're implying."

"You were in love with my mum. Even then."

"There were feelings," Snape shifted, not quite meeting Harry's eyes; "Perhaps not quite so acute as they may be perceived to be now."

"Well they must have been pretty acute for you to basically throw your life away for her."

"Are you implying I ought to have done differently?"

"No. Obviously not. I'd be dead if you hadn't. We all would be. You…you saved us."

Snape's lip curled, obvious disgust at himself when he spoke; "You forget who handed over the prophecy in the first place."

"But you're still spying now. For years and years," Harry frowned, as the weight of it, all that Snape had been doing, everything about him and his mum and what _they_ had been doing suddenly became clear; "Mum. I…I thought she threw it all way to be with you. But…that's not how it was. You did it for her, first. And…that's why mum's with you."

"I sincerely hope that is not the reason, Mr. Potter."

"I don't mean…I mean; if you did it first –" Harry explained, as if saying it out loud would help _him_ understand it; "If you committed _your_ life to fighting the war, for my _mum_ , then…then obviously she would do the same for you. Obviously, she would. You…you gave up everything for her."

"Nothing that mattered," Snape dismissed the assessment, without hesitation; "I have gained far more. As you know."

Harry looked down. He _did_ finally get it. Why walking away was never an option for his mum, once she'd fallen in love with him. Why she couldn't just walk away and leave Snape to spy and to fight this war – for her – while she set up a life, happily, somewhere else, with someone else, and her children – his daughter – and Harry drew in a breath.

"Okay," he nodded; "Okay."

He turned his attention back to the prophecy – the issue at hand – because Snape and his mum and their commitment to one another was so deep-rooted and complex, that it was almost giving Harry a headache attempting to make sense of it.

"So, you went to Dumbledore and he hid us, and you kept spying. And then the Longbottom's defeated him," Harry met Snape's eyes, remembering what had happened – from the stories at least – and went on; "That first time, they did. How did they do that?"

"They evoked a form of magic that the Dark Lord is unable to access."

" _Power the Dark Lord knows not_ – how do we know that wasn't it?"

"We thought it was. Some of us, even, were entirely convinced that was the end of it. Though we were not privy to that particular aspect of the prophecy. Neville Longbottom was never marked - though that is a detail not learned until far later; that Neville Longbottom never faced the Dark Lord the night he fell to the Longbottom's magic."

"What magic was it?"

"Blood Magic. Ancestral. It can be accessed only by those pure of birth; a calling of magic down through the blood lines – at very great cost –" Snape added, at Harry's obvious increasing interest; "- as such it is something that neither yourself nor the Dark Lord can count upon should the prophecy come to pass."

Of course not.

That would be easy.

To actually have a _chance_.

Harry shook his head; "So, there's some other mysterious half-blood magic I'm supposed to be able to tap into, instead? Maybe we should be focusing a bit more on that, instead of just occlumency."

Snape glowered at him.

"And what good would that do if the Dark Lord can just sift through and have a look at what you have discovered? Occlumency, as you well know, is non-negotiable."

"I'm not trying to negotiate it," Harry rolled his eyes; "But we need to do more."

More than more. They needed to do _everything._ More than this, more than what they'd been doing.

"I'm glad you think so."

"I would have thought so if you'd just told me all of this in the first place."

"That was not my choice to make."

"Mum made you stay quiet."

"That's not what I am saying," Snape said, quickly, even though that was _obviously_ the reason. She'd kept Snape quiet about this, just as she'd kept Remus quiet about them; "Even if it _had_ been my choice there was – and is – no doubt in my mind that you are not ready for this information. No one should have to carry this burden, least of all a fourteen year old child."

"I'm almost fifteen."

"And what a difference that will make."

Snape was right.

It did make no difference.

What difference would be made from now, until summer, to grant Harry this great title of World Saviour – what mysterious ' _powers the Dark Lord knows not_ ' were supposed to come to him.

It was just…hopeless.

"You don't think I'm going to be able to do this, do you?" Harry said, quietly, speaking more to himself that Snape; "Not really. You want me to be able to, obviously, because you and Mum built a life in your head about how everything was going to just be fine and dandy, the four of us, when this is all over. And that everything we're doing right now is going to be worth it."

That was it. The dream, for all of them. That they'd actually be a family. And that, when all this was over, they'd be able to just…go home.

A fantasy. A fairytale.

A lie.

"But it won't be," Harry looked down; "I'll be dead. And if he lets my mum and my sister live after that, they're going to be living in hell just for being mine."

What was happening with Malachi, right now, such cold hard evidence of that very fact.

He met Snape's eyes, going on; "You won't be able to save them. He'll just kill you, when he realizes that they're yours, too."

Snape's eyes were upon him, dark and contemplative and, then, he glanced away, shaking his head. His disappointment in him – in his response – evident.

"Ah. So, that's it then, is it?" Snape looked at him, down his nose; " _That's_ to be your decision, having finally learned the truth? That it is...hopeless. Not even worth fighting for. You refuse to even try?"

The weight of it all – the truth and the _expectation_ and Snape's disappointment – Harry couldn't take it.

It _was_ hopeless.

"How the hell am I supposed to do this? No one else can. You and Mr. Black and Dumbledore – you've been trying to fight him for _years_ and none of you have been able to do it. So, how am _I_ supposed to do this alone?"

Snape kept his eyes on him for a moment.

And then he drew in a breath and took a seat behind his desk, so that he now faced him. And when he spoke there was sincerity along with the assertion. A warmth.

A _vow_.

"Harry. You are not alone."

Harry kept his eyes on him.

The statement made with such certainty that, for the first time in so long, in this fight, he finally, _finally_ believed that were true.

* * *

The cottage – their home – was a lonely place without Malachi or Julia there with him.

A loneliness entirely of his own creation.

Malachi's situation, now, only reminded him of that.

Regulus tossed the book he held into the box, almost carelessly.

His son blamed himself, Regulus knew, for the death of that girl but it was not his son's sins that had led them here. He was just too pure and good to turn the blame upon he who should bear it.

Regulus lifted the framed portrait – the still portrait – that usually hung from the wall above the mantle, finger going to Evelyn's face. Another. Gone long before her time.

She was not the only one to pay the price for his crimes.

Regulus swallowed and carefully wrapped the portrait before placing it into the box on the table before him, as he carried on packing up their belongings; preparing to leave the home that they had become far too comfortable in for either of their own goods.

The fireplace flared – the floo having been set up by his contact within the Ministry following the Dark Lord's discovery of his location – and Regulus glanced up, as Julia stepped through.

He smiled.

He was happy to see her, as he always was, even if it was weighted, now, by the cold, hard truth of just how much they had been fooling themselves these past few months.

"Hey," she returned his smile, stepping towards him and he drew her in for a kiss, before the two of them sat down on the edge of the sofa table; "How's Malachi?"

"Back at school, ready to start tomorrow. Like you said, he's tough. He'll pull through."

Julia smiled, giving a nod, and glanced around the room.

There was clearly something on her mind.

He knew, obviously, what it was as it was surely the same thing that was on his. And had been since he had spoken those forbidden words to her the fortnight before.

Julia indicated the box sitting on the table behind him – backing out of whatever it was she had come here to say – and said; "I could give you a hand. Now this is _a lot_ of stuff you've got here, Black."

Regulus smiled, but it was still heavy with the pretense of normality, of light-heartedness, and he knew they couldn't go on like this.

Not now.

Regulus took her hands; "Julia. If you're worried that this is a bad time, you don't have to. I already know what you came here to say."

The playfulness in her expression that she had managed to muster up dissolved and she lowered her eyes, when he called it. Called on them to finally, properly, deal with this. And when she reached up, running her hand through her hair, and released one of those trembling breaths he'd only ever heard once before from her – the night he'd asked her to give herself over to him – he realized it was the first time he'd ever, truly, seen her vulnerable. He'd come for her and taken her down a path that could have only ended up here and he hated himself for that.

She was the one who'd be leaving him.

But he was the one who'd broken their hearts.

Julia met his eyes.

"I love you."

Regulus drew in a breath. The words – an entirely deserved – punch to the gut. He had never heard it – not for so many years – from anyone other than his son.

It was far, far more than he could ever deserve.

He lowered his eyes, the hand that still held hers tightening as he did.

There were declarations of love that held hope and a promise for the future: of a devotion and a camaraderie and a _life_.

This was not one of those declarations.

No. This one sounded very much like goodbye.

"I've been in love with you," she went on, more assuredly after drawing in a breath; "That's why I haven't…"

Her assuredness faltered.

"Why you haven't left?"

She met his eyes.

And the vulnerability was back, then, in her eyes and it took all of Regulus' willpower not to look away.

"Did you mean it?"

Regulus knew she meant the proposal. For a moment, he considered saying no. _Of course not_. He knew – she knew – that it was impossible. It was a joke. A moment of weakness. And, then, maybe they could just smile and laugh it off.

And then she would stay.

They would carry on, just like before, pretending that the world outside these windows wasn't touching them.

He would keep her a little longer.

Until, another few months from now, this happened again.

And a few months after that, again still.

And the cycle would go on and on.

One more day. One more night. He would pull and she would come and time would pass her by.

The best years of her life, gone in a flash, _wasted_ on Regulus Black and a promise of nothingness and heartache – at best – and utter devastation and death, at worst.

For better or worse.

Regulus shook his head.

And he knew she'd never go for it. He _knew_ her. So, for the first time in his life, instead of pulling. He pushed.

"Yes. I meant it, Julia."

Julia didn't disappoint him. Well. Not his expectations, in any case.

Julia swallowed, shaking her head; "I just…I don't think that I can do it, Regulus."

He knew that – he knew – and this was why he had _pushed_ but he was unprepared for and fought down the – remarkably rapid – rising ache and the grief – was that truly grief – now that this was actually happening.

"Whichever way we did it," Julia went on, quietly; "It's either too much to hide, or too much to give up. I can't hide myself and my life from the rest of the world, that's…that's not me."

Regulus knew that. Julia Bradbury did nothing half-way. She was bright. And fearless. And alive. Someone who deserved to be _seen_. That was why he…

"No. I know," Regulus said, mustering up his strength to not weigh them down – this moment – any more than it had to be. If he wasn't careful, if his resolve broke, there was too real of a danger he might convince her otherwise; "I…I could never ask you to. I could never ask you to wait for me. It was wrong of me, to ask you."

Julia's eyes glimmered, then, and that – more than his own heartache – forced him to pull on his strength. To do this; for her and for them. She deserved that.

"Regulus, I'm so sorry."

"No," Regulus shook his head, moving in closer to her; "Ah ah. No. Julia. This is our last night together," he decided as he reached up a hand, cupping her cheek, and his thumb brushed away the stray tear that had begun to fall; "There will be none of this."

He leaned his forehead to hers, giving her a smile; "Tonight, there will be candles. And there will be music. And there will be dancing. And there will be some pretty epic goings-on under the cover of darkness tonight –" she smiled at him, through the tears and the sadness in her eyes, "- Miss Bradbury, let me assure you, that tonight is going to be the best night of our lives. And tomorrow when you walk out that…fireplace…" they chuckled, both of them, before he asserted:

"There will be no regrets."

Julia's expression changed then, as her eyes flitted between his; because no regrets, that was Julia Bradbury all over, and he could never regret this. He could never regret that he could say that for a little while she had been his.

"There will be no apologies and there will be no goodbyes," Regulus went on, taking both her hands back into his own; "There will only be this; thank you."

Julia frowned in puzzlement; "Thank you?"

Regulus nodded, saying with certainty; "Thank you. For even being here at all."

Julia simply stared back at him.

And then she sighed and took his face in her hands, kissing him deeply, and he felt it, then, more than he ever had before; all the love that she felt for him. And he cherished it, wanted it, and he reached for it – for her – and poured it all back.

For one more night.

* * *

Love fades.

It wasn't exactly meant as words of comfort – though she _did_ try to draw on it for some, now – the statement her mother had drummed it into her from the age of ten, when her father had up and bailed on them. Rather, it was an assertion – and a warning – that Julia not follow in the same footsteps and find herself with nothing years and years down the line, having given all of herself away for someone else because no one else was worth that.

The world according to mum.

Julia ran a hand through her hair, trying to push any and all thoughts of love and marriage away, as she stepped around Lily's bed, carrying out her routine daily checks before she headed home for the day.

Love fades.

Julia had her doubts about that. Her days began and ended with the feeling – the first thing she felt in the morning and last thing at night – and they had done for months now, and it was certainly _not_ dimming with time.

But then all marriages started somewhere, and she had watched her parents' marriage crumble and fall, and their circumstances had been entirely ordinary.

Julia drew in a breath, giving her head a shake, as if _that_ might shake all the love – and the heartache – away; but, obviously, it didn't.

Instead, she found herself longing for Regulus Black's arms and his words and his promises – that she'd never, in a million years, actually _expected_ – while attempting to remind herself just how dangerously close she had come to doing something _so_ , ridiculously, stupid. Everything she'd worked for. Gone in a flash. Because she knew, that if Regulus had actually demonstrated any faith at all in the idea that the two of them could actually _make_ it, she would have thrown it all away.

Love fades.

She wished it would damn well hurry up about it.

Lily stirred.

Julia's eyes lifted from the parchment she had been scribbling down on, frowning a little; "Lil'?"

Lily's eyes flickered open.

Julia quickly put aside the chart, stepping towards her; "Hey, Honey. Can you hear me?"

Lily's eyes met hers. Her voice a whisper; "J…Jules?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me."

"Harry," Lily said, repeating the same question she'd asked the last time she'd woken – before promptly drifting back off – but with a quick wave of her wand, Julia could ascertain that she was _with_ them now, this time, properly.

"He's good," Julia assured her; "He's good. He's at Hogwarts."

"Grace?"

"She's with Remus. At the Castle."

Lily frowned, past her confusion; "Bu…Severus?"

Julia hesitated.

And, suddenly, so many things started to make sense.

Julia glanced at the door, quickly, and flicked her wand, so that it shut, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Lily's hand in hers; "Honey, listen. Grace, she's…she's with Remus at the Castle just now, with Harry. Everyone knows now that he's her father, alright?"

Lily frowned, looking even more bewildered.

Julia went on; "I'm going to send him a message now, okay? I'll get him to bring the kids; he'll explain everything."

Lily nodded, slowly.

Julia got to her feet and hurried from the room.

* * *

Malachi wished the ground would swallow him up, as he made his way down the corridor.

He wished he'd accepted his dad's offer to just keep him home.

Everyone knew about Emma.

He'd been back less than an hour before his dormmates brought it up, a mix of insults and lewd questions thrown his way about his father's disappointment and faux-curious enquires as to what mud tasted like, the statements going on and on until Malachi had drawn his curtains and cast a silencing spell upon his bed.

He just lay there in the dark as the tears came, once more, and he wished for home. But he didn't - no way, no matter how much his dad had insisted that he do – go to Severus to tell him what was going on and ask him to send him back.

He hadn't seen Harry yet.

That was a tiny bit of light that awaited with his return to school, but, even then, Harry knew Emma, too, and he'd probably ask questions.

Malachi didn't want to answer questions.

He didn't want to think about how foolish and careless he'd been; how he'd actually gotten Emma killed. He should have known better.

He _did_ know better.

"Hey, Black."

Malachi looked up, suddenly, at the – somewhat - warm greeting.

It was Ron.

"Um. Hey, Ron," Malachi said, surprised, for he only ever spoke to him when he was with Harry.

Ron gave him a smile – a _smile –_ and carried on by him with Hermione, who also cast a smile – a sympathetic one – his way as they passed.

Obviously, Harry had told them to be nice to him.

Malachi sighed and carried on his way to his Defence class. The timetable had been reshuffled, to account for the new curriculum, and the Slytherins were to be paired up with the Ravenclaws this time rather than the Gryffindors, for the first time since Malachi had started there.

He was glad of that.

The Gryffindors hated him almost as much as the Slytherins.

"Hi, Black," another voice said.

Malachi looked up. As if to contradict his thoughts, it was Colin Creevey – a muggleborn Gryffindor – who had greeted and smiled at him, as they passed one another.

Another person – a Hufflepuff girl, another muggleborn – smiled at him.

Malachi frowned at the bizarre behaviour and was glad to duck into his Defence classroom when he finally reached it.

He took a desk in the furthest row from the front and, from there, the furthest desk from any of the Slytherins he noticed already taking their own seats.

He pulled up his bag, dumping out his textbook and parchments, his notebook along with his quills and ink, and gave a small smile to Professor Lupin when he met his eyes, the professor giving a nod of 'welcome back' in his direction.

That, at least, was a genuine greeting.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Malachi turned at the sound of the odd, far-away voice.

He frowned, noticing it was Luna – or Loony, as his year mates referred to her – Lovegood, and he reluctantly shook his head; "No."

Luna smiled and sat on the stool beside him, tugging out her own things from her schoolbag.

They were odd and girly and her notebook had doodles all over it and she spoke with that same distant, dreamy voice when she looked deeper into her bag; "Oh. I think someone must have hidden my ink from me again."

Malachi frowned; "People hide your ink? Why?"

"I'm not sure," she shook her head, looking as if she were actually _thinking_ about it; "I think they think it's funny."

"Well. It's not," Malachi said, frowning at her odd behaviour – almost as odd as the Gryffindors who had greeted him – and he pushed his own ink closer to the middle of the desk so she could share it.

"Thank you."

She sounded more grateful than she ought to, just to be allowed to share.

"'s fine. It's just ink."

Malachi turned his attention to his Defence textbook – the new one that had been waiting on his bed when he got back the night before – and opened it up to flick through it. It was updated with a ton of new – dark – stuff, and while he was flicking through, he quickly noticed an entire chapter devoted to the Unforgivables. He swallowed, his eyes lingering upon the section about the Cruciatus.

There was a moving picture of someone writhing under the effects of it.

Malachi quickly shut the book, feeling sick.

Luna had started to hum - not at all quietly - next to him. He fought not to look at her and stare.

The others in the class – his own House, in particular – did not demonstrate such reserve and were looking over their shoulders at the sound and the sight of the two of them and snickering and whispering amongst themselves.

Great.

He should just tape a massive 'L' to the front of the desk and call it the Loser's Table.

He leaned back, sinking further down in his stool, and waited for the lesson to start.

* * *

"The Dark Lord is quite livid. With you slipping through his fingers, once more, he opted to settle on the next best thing. A lesson, if you will."

"Destroying my son. Breaking his heart, reminding him that as long as his father lives, he will never have a life – or love – or…" Regulus broke off, lifting his hand to his forehead; "And he sees to it that the children of his followers are quick to spread the word of it amongst his school mates. This…this is all just a big game to him, Severus."

"We all know how the Dark Lord likes to toy with his prey."

"Well it can't go on like this, Severus. It can't."

But it would, both of them knew it, because neither could make the Dark Lord stop. As long as Regulus lived, the chase - the games – would continue. And Malachi was the weak point – the easy target – that the Dark Lord would toy with until Regulus finally broke.

Severus' kept his eyes on Regulus' back, where he was standing at the window, as he fingered one of the – many, many – loose parchments and books and journals that were scattered throughout the room: on the desk, the couch, the sill and every available surface of the furniture.

His eyes glanced upon the titles of those nearest to him, eyes skimming the first lines, moving from one to the next.

Diablerie.

Gramayre.

Shadow Magic.

Maleficium.

Blood Magic.

It seemed as if Regulus – in his agitated state – had hauled out every piece of information available to himself regarding the Dark Arts; and there were notes scribbled in margins and circled paragraphs and highlighted text, along with parchments of flow charts and longer notations that couldn't fit into the margins.

Severus glanced back up in Regulus' direction and noticed him watching him.

"You're more than welcome to take a look."

Severus sighed and lifted the handwritten parchments.

Regulus had been in a foul mood since Severus had stepped through the door – barely even making eye contact as he swept around the room – and it was a behaviour entirely recognizable to Severus. The way Regulus would throw himself into his work following the suffering of a loss; he had seen it with Evelyn and with Sirius Black. Andromeda, too, though that one was somewhat overshadowed by Regulus' anxiety at the Dark Lord's second return.

It seemed, in this case, that Regulus bore Malachi's loss as if it were his _own_ heartbreak.

The document Severus had lifted pertained to the Longbottoms; a flow chart detailing the flow of the ancestral magic that the Dark Lord had described and that they – he, Regulus and Lily – had gone over a million times in the years since.

Dumbledore had been entirely uninterested in the notion; seeming to know something the three of them didn't. Obviously, Severus was not privy to what the Headmaster _did_ know. But that he didn't care to look any more into the concept of Blood Magic and the Longbottoms circumstances was a clear enough indication that it was not something he considered necessary. His faith lay somewhere else.

Which, Severus supposed, was a comfort.

If somewhat frustrating.

His eyes drifted over Regulus' notes, feigning interest in what was written.

Regulus' name was scribbled between that of Frank and Alice Longbottom, a line between the couple with a little scored scribble; a small sign of frustration.

Malachi's was down the next line, alongside Neville Longbottom, before the pen lines scored and crossed, in more obvious frustration than the one that sat above those of Frank and Alice.

Severus tossed it aside, glad of the fact Regulus had a son, for he would surely do something stupid and actually attempt to evoke this magic if he did not have offspring to bear the consequences of it.

"Any advice?"

"To assist on your suicide mission –" Severus glanced away, with a wry smirk, that belied his own irritation; " – don't mind me, Regulus. I shall just leave you to it."

"If I wanted to commit suicide, I'd just stand outside the fucking gates!"

Severus met Regulus' eyes at the snap, at the – somewhat, unexpected – unleash of frustration and fury. He reigned in his own surprise at the outburst, as Regulus closed his eyes. For a moment he looked as if he might apologise – or elaborate – but he just turned and glowered, darkly, out at the grounds.

"I can't do this without your help."

Severus got to his feet and approached; "Regulus, we are all working together on this. It is you who has taken it upon yourself to – I do not even know what your intentions are, if I am honest – " Regulus looked at him out the corner of his eye; "- you intend to take on the Dark Lord, singlehandedly? Arm yourself with –" Severus indicated with a flap of a wave at the mess of the room, before he drew in a breath and spoke more assuredly; "You've lost your head, Regulus. Which is exactly what the Dark Lord wants."

Regulus chin dipped, eyes on the sill, and then he turned – the extremely brief moment of eye contact enough to give Severus an alarming look at the pain within them – before he returned and took his chair behind the desk.

"How did he find us?"

"A Ministry contact," Severus stated, crossing his arms; "Within the Improper Use of Magic Office. The Trace. Malachi must have triggered it."

Regulus shook his head; "He would never do that, Severus."

"Not that, no. But he would sneak out of the safety of his home to frolic with the local muggle girls?"

"He's not an idiot. He knows how the Trace works. No magic outside of the Fidelius. He knows using magic in a muggle village would be suspicious. Not to mention get him expelled from school."

"Well. Who else would have…" Severus hesitated.

Regulus met his eyes.

"No," Regulus finally said; "They didn't leave the house."

"You were with them? Every moment they were with you? What about through the night?"

Regulus nodded; "Yes, every…"

He stopped – realization obvious in his expression – and then closed his eyes, shaking his head; "No. I wasn't."

"Harry would not trigger the Trace," Severus said, with the same certainty that Regulus spoke of regarding Malachi; "It would have been Grace. Those boys took Grace outside of the house."

"We don't know that."

"What other explanation is there?"

"Several. Even the smallest incantation could trigger it, in a place as devoid of magic as Crail. It could have been on the doorstep, for all we know."

"It was Grace."

Severus was certain.

Regulus did not counter it – for it was the most likely of the scenarios – and was silent for a moment while Severus stewed in his own, newly established, fury.

"Are you at risk now, Severus?" Regulus finally said; "Who else could have known?"

Severus glanced at him, brought out of his thoughts.

"I am not at risk," Severus shook his head – no more than usual, anyway; "I was not privy to the plans regarding your ensnarement. He would not want you to recognize me, should you manage to evade him. Obviously, his discretion proved beneficial to him – and us – in this case. So long as he does not see reason to legilimise your cousin, my involvement will not be discovered."

"But Narcissa, she's at risk."

"Yes. Though it goes in her favour that she, too, was not involved in the preparations. It would have been leaked by Lucius or, perhaps, your less than accommodating cousin – who may have seen fit to boast to her sister about your impending demise – either way, there is an obvious leak. Either a Ministry contact of your own or a leak within his inner circle. Now he knows it, we cannot be entirely sure the information he feeds down to his followers is genuine. He may attempt to lay a trap to ensnare them or use them to throw Dumbledore off his true intentions – as he attempted to do with the prophecy."

Regulus nodded, slowly, mulling the words.

The remainder of Severus' visit did not last long, now that Severus' foul mood matched that of Regulus' upon figuring out the truth of what had actually transpired that weekend, and he headed back to Hogwarts so the two of them could continue with their stewing, independently.

Harry was waiting for him at the door to his office. Once again ignoring the need for discretion.

"Mr. Potter."

Good. He flicked his wand to unlock the door.

"Mum's awake."

Severus' fury was quickly snuffed out.

He glanced around them, before he stepped forward and opened the door to his office, heading inside with Harry on his heels.

"She woke up this morning. Uncle Remus is taking me to see her," Harry said, immediately upon closing the door behind him, as Severus turned round; "I…I know you can't come with us."

Severus crossed his arms.

"So, I thought, maybe you wanted me to give her a message for you?" Harry said, with the slightest of shrugs, as if he were embarrassed to even be offering; "You know. If you want."

Severus simply stared back at him.

A message.

There was so much he wanted to say to her. Indeed, it was something he'd thought of many times these past few months.

But none of it would come to him.

None of it was simple enough to be relayed by her son.

Anything that he needed to say, he ought to say himself.

Harry drew in a breath, looking even more embarrassed when Severus said nothing, and he shrugged; "Okay. Nevermind."

Harry turned, reaching for the doorknob.

"Harry."

Harry stopped, turning to look at him at hearing his name.

Severus hesitated. Loathe to reveal anything of himself to anyone, as he had always been. But he went ahead.

"You may tell l her that I am sorry."

Harry frowned; "Sorry? For what?"

"Will Grace be accompanying you on this visit?"

"Yes."

Severus gave a single nod.

"In that case, your mother will know what for."

Harry's frown lingered a second, so that the moment when he realized what Severus was apologizing for was all the more obvious; "Oh."

Severus gave a nod, elaborating no further, instead saying; "You had best not keep Professor Lupin waiting."

Harry nodded, eyes lingering on him for a second – with compassion – before he turned and headed from the room.

* * *

"Mummy!" Grace was upon her in a flash.

"Grace, Mum's hurt, remember!"

Lily heard Harry before she saw him, above her armful of Grace, and she shook her head – even if it did hurt a little – and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Hello, Sweetheart," she murmured into Grace's hair, and Grace drew back while Harry stood a little bit away with his arms crossed, uncertainly.

Grace was not so uncertain, her smile and eyes bright with delight; "I missed you, Mummy. I've been living at the Castle, with Uncle Remus."

"I know," Lily smiled, caressing her cheek, her eyes going to Harry; "Where is he?"

"Uncle Remus –" Harry glanced over his shoulder with a frown; "Oh, uh. I guess he's waiting outside."

Lily nodded, slowly, before she smiled and reached a hand towards Harry.

He went to her immediately, taking her hand, and she noticed his eyes glimmer, slightly, but he swiped at them before it could become a tear, and then he leaned down and hugged her, almost as tightly as Grace did.

"Mum," he said, his voice wavering; "Mum, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh," Lily reached up, holding him back and pressed a kiss to his cheek; "You have nothing to be sorry for, Sweetheart. It wasn't your fault."

"I mean for everything, Mum," Harry blurted out, leaning back, and his eyes were wet, now; "If you'd died –"

" _Died_?" Grace repeated the statement, eyes full of alarm.

Harry looked down at her, then gave a smile, shaking his head and he gave her a one-armed hug with the one that wasn't still clutching to Lily; "Just…being dramatic, Grace." He looked back at her; "I'm sorry for all those things I said. I…I get it now. Why you did what you did. I do."

Lily smiled, reaching up to stroke his hair, and she shook her head; "No, I'm sorry, Sweetheart. We…we'll talk about it soon, okay? Properly."

Harry nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the door, before back at his mum; "Do…do you want me to get Uncle Remus?"

Lily's eyes went to the door - uncertain if his absence was due to their estrangement or him just giving the children a chance to see her alone – and then she smiled at Harry, shaking her head; "No. No, you just stay here."

She leaned back, adjusting herself and Grace, so that the two of them were lying up more comfortably on the pillows and she reached for Harry to do the same.

Harry looked a little bit unsure – embarrassed, even – but Grace reached and grabbed his sleeve; "Harry, lie down!"

So, he did – always unable to resist his little sister, and had been, even since she was a baby – and he sat down next to them on the bed, leaning his head on Lily's shoulder.

"We went to the beach, Mummy."

Lily frowned; "The beach?"

"Yes," Grace nodded, lifting her head to look at her; "We went last weekend – oh, sorry Harry – yes, and I was picking up pebbles, see." She reached into her pocket and pulled out two of them. They were white with brown spots – very familiar to Lily, as they'd seen them a few times during walks along the beach closest to home – and Lily smiled, taking one.

She figured Remus must have taken them.

"They look just like those ones we give to…"

Grace's voice trailed off, and Lily looked at her, expectantly, waiting for the rest of her reminiscence.

But Grace's eyes were glazed, slightly, and there was a little frown on her face.

And, then, her eyes brightened again and she looked back at Lily with a smile.

"Oh, the pebbles are pretty, Mummy, aren't they?"

Lily reached up with a frown, stroking Grace's hair; "Honey, what were you saying? Before?"

"When?"

"Just now. You were saying we gather up the pebbles. From the beach."

"Yeah. For…"

It happened again.

Lily looked at Harry.

Harry wouldn't meet her eyes.

Lily sat up, pulling Grace up with her; "Harry, do you want to take Grace for something to eat? There's ice cream down the hall."

"Um. Uncle Remus could take her."

"I need to talk to your Uncle Remus."

"You could talk to me," Harry suggested.

Lily looked at Harry for a moment, uncertainly, before she nodded; "Okay. Okay –" she turned a – forced – smile back to Grace; "Uncle Remus is going to take you for ice cream, Sweetheart."

Grace beamed and nodded, jumping down off the bed, and she took Harry's hand as he led her from the room.

Harry wasn't away for long. But it was long enough for Lily's agitation to increase, tenfold, by the time he stepped back through the door.

"What's wrong with Grace?"

"Nothing," Harry shook his head, shutting the door behind him; "She's fine, Mum."

"Has she been obliviated?"

"No. Orion."

Lily turned away, eyes closing. It was a tactic – a plan – that she and Severus had considered in the past. If things got too precarious, if things got too dangerous.

"The Wizarding Authorities were holding her," Harry explained, not waiting for Lily to ask; "They were going to send her to your sister. Snape didn't want that. He didn't think she'd be safe with her. So, Uncle Remus said he'd take her. But she couldn't be at the Castle knowing who Snape really was; so…so he took it away. So, she'd be safe."

Lily swallowed, meeting Harry's eyes.

"It's working, Mum. Everyone thinks she's Remus' now. Even Tonks."

"Tonks?"

"Oh. Nevermind," Harry shrugged; "We thought it was better, this way. So, she'd still be able to stay with us. We didn't want her to be alone."

Lily looked at Harry closely, raising an eyebrow; "We?"

Harry nodded, and then he gave her a small smile, rolling his eyes; "Yeah, we."

Lily leaned back on the pillows of the bed, still with a frown – even if it was, more than a little, heartening, to hear Harry and Severus were together on this – and she drew in a breath, meeting Harry's eyes; "Have there been any side effects?"

"She likes him. A lot. They only met once and she wouldn't shut up about him. I had to bribe her, to keep her quiet. But…you know what Grace is like. She still looks for him all the time. She still knows – even if she doesn't really know – that he's important."

Lily needed to take her home.

She needed to get up and out of this bed.

But Julia had told her that it could be weeks before that happened and even that was optimistic. A month, at least.

"He said he was sorry."

Lily looked up at Harry, sharply; "Who?"

"Snape."

Lily leaned back a little further, looking at Harry closely; "Severus said that? To you?"

"For Grace. To you."

Lily swallowed, shaking her head, and then she met Harry eyes and gave him a small smile; "Tell him not to be foolish."

Harry screwed up his nose; "I can't tell Snape that! He'd gut me."

Lily chuckled and then winced at the motion. Harry quickly stepped towards her, in obvious concern; "Mum. Are you okay?"

"I will be, Sweetheart," Lily assured him, and he got a small smile, even if he still held onto her sleeve.

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I meant it when I said I was sorry, Mum. I…there's lots of stuff I didn't know. About you and him. But. I believe it now. I know he really loves you."

Lily looked back at him, curiously – knowing there was no way on this Earth Severus would speak openly about such a subject – but before she could ask anything more the door clicked open and Grace ran back into the room, holding three little trays of ice cream.

"Look! Uncle Remus got it for all of us."

Lily glanced in the direction of the door to greet him.

But the door had just clicked shut behind her.

* * *

Regulus sat in the corner of the bar, nursing the drink he held, as he waited.

He wasn't waiting long before the woman he was waiting for slipped into the booth beside him, giving him a flirtatious smile.

"Regulus."

Regulus gave her a smile, hoping it met his eyes, and a nod; "Been a while."

"It has. Word on the street had it Regulus Black was off the market."

"Where'd you hear that?" Regulus frowned, in alarm.

"You know I can't reveal my sources," the woman – Ana Maeson – smirked.

Regulus slid the drink he'd ordered for her in her direction.

"That's why you're the best, Miss Maeson."

He did his best to muster up some semblance of flirtation - that had always come easy - but it fell remarkably - and noticeably - short.

"Well, you've obviously called me here for business tonight rather than pleasure, Mr. Black," she grinned, quickly picking up on his mood; "Could it be that the rumours your heart's finally been captured are actually true?"

"What heart, Miss Maeson?" Regulus countered, with a smirk; "Ask the people; I don't have one."

"Aw. She's obviously broken it."

Regulus shook his head, not wanting to engage with this any further; "I need you to find someone for me."

"Thought so. That person have a name?"

"Eugene Hopkins."

Ana's playful demeanor dropped.

She glanced around the room with a frown, before meeting Regulus' eyes again, and repeated the name; "Eugene Hopkins?"

"Yes."

Ana shook her head; " _Why_?"

"He has information that I need."

Ana looked at him closely for a second, with obvious concern. When he said nothing more and just waited, for he knew her concern wouldn't stop her from agreeing to help – he paid his contacts more than generously, after all - she nodded, agreeing to do as he asked.

And then she cocked an eyebrow.

"Your funeral."


	67. May 1995: Divided We Fall

"Hey."

Malachi looked up sharply, at the unexpected voice – Daphne – having not expecting to be seen or addressed by anyone. Least of all one of his own housemates.

"What are you doing hiding way back here?"

"I'm not hiding."

Daphne looked sceptical, for it was obvious Malachi was, what with the way he was sitting on the floor between bookcases in one of the darkest, most underused areas of the library.

It had been like this all week, ever since he'd come back. No longer able to stand the sneering and jeering of the Slytherins, nor the smiling looks of pity from the other students – from all the Houses – and with Harry spending every free moment at St Mungo's with his mum, he had sought refuge the only place he knew where he'd find it.

Daphne sat down opposite him, leaning back against the bookcase behind her, and just looked at him, contemplatively.

Malachi drew his knees up closer to his chest under her inspection: "What?"

"Did you really care about her? That muggle?"

Malachi hesitated.

He didn't want to talk about Emma.

And he didn't want to hear any more _opinions_ on it from anyone else at Hogwarts.

But he couldn't deny it.

No.

So, Malachi answered, truthfully. If Daphne – or anyone she told – had anything to say about it, then fine. He'd deal with it. It was the least he could do for her; for Emma.

He would never pretend he didn't care.

"Yeah."

Daphne glanced down, seeming to think about it for a second, and then she met his eyes; "I don't think it's right for any of them to be killed; the muggles."

Malachi nodded, slowly; "Okay."

"And I don't want You Know Who to win."

"I know that."

Daphne nodded as well, at his admittance, and then she got a smile and spoke more assuredly; "Good. Just so you do."

She reached into her bag, pulling out a magazine from inside, and Malachi lowered his knees to glance down at the book about the Statute – about muggle and wizard relationships – that he'd been reading before she arrived.

"Malachi."

"Yeah?"

He looked up and Daphne was looking at him, with sympathy in her expression.

"I'm sorry. For what happened to her."

Malachi pursed his lips together, looking down, not expecting to hear that from anyone here. No one other than Harry.

And then Daphne reached up, a hand on his ankle, and gave it a little squeeze that tickled and made him jump. She looked surprised – obviously she'd meant it as comfort – and then she chuckled.

Malachi smiled. Surprised but glad that he'd at least kept one of his Slytherin friends, and he gave her ankle a squeeze back, making her laugh more and give him a kick, before he relaxed back against the bookcase behind him and carried on with his book.

* * *

"Screw that!"

"Jules!"

They both burst into laughter, as Lily finished up relaying the details of it all. Everything that Julia hadn't already managed to put together herself, which, was, surprisingly, a lot. And Lily was grateful for it, even if she shouldn't be, that she finally had someone to talk to about it all that _wasn't_ so emotionally invested in the whole thing, themselves.

"You think that's crazy?" Lily raised an eyebrow, still smiling.

"Mhm. Mhm. Yeah," Julia nodded, closing her eyes and shaking her head; "Yeah, it's crazy, Honey."

She lifted the chart she had been about to fill in on her arrival, beginning to scribble across it.

"Well, what would you do then, hm?"

"I'd say 'fuck you world, this is my man'."

"Oh, because that's _exactly_ what you've been doing!" Lily laughed, calling bullshit.

"All or nothing," Julia was still smiling, as she carried on writing, and then she dropped the chart to her lap, where she was sitting on the side of Lily's bed, adding more seriously; "Aw, Honey. I had no idea you've been going through all this. I made all those jokes! I'm sorry, Sweetie."

"Don't be," Lily dismissed it; "It was better you didn't know."

"I had no idea you could be so _sly_ ," Julia grinned, eyes twinkling – clearly delighted by the scandal – and she went on; "A secret lover. Hot, steamy rendezvous in the night. Now, _Black_ would have _blown his top_."

"So, he did."

"Wait, he _knew?_ How did I miss _that_?"

"You didn't."

" _That's_ why he moved out?" Julia scoffed, rolling her eyes and lifting the chart back up, before she carried on writing; "Berk."

Lily snickered; "I presume you don't refer to him as such around Regulus?"

"No," Julia got a smile, with obvious affection at the mention, while she was still writing, but she stopped and looked at Lily when she said, in unhidden disbelief; "Can you believe those two were brothers?"

"Sometimes," Lily said with a nod, voice softening with fondness for the both of them.

"It blows my mind they were even related," Julia said, turning her attention back to the chart.

Lily laughed; "Well, that's because you're blindly in love with him, Jules."

Julia's playful expression dimmed slightly, her eyes narrowing over the words she was writing.

She didn't bite.

Instead, she finished up her sentence and met Lily's eyes, changing the subject; "By the way, _Remus_ has been hanging around your door all week. Did something happen between the two of you?"

Oh.

"You could say that."

"Or…?"

"Let's just say you're not the only one who thinks what Severus and I have been doing is crazy."

"Well, it's none of Remus' business even if it is," Julia said, immediately taking her side.

"We've kind of made it his business," Lily pointed out, much as she'd like to have Julia's backing on the whole thing.

"Daddy Remus" Julia said, thoughtfully, before she shook her head; "I never believed it."

"Knew all along, did you?"

"Well, I never thought _that,_ obviously. I thought an unable to resist, one night romp in his office or something, before you got all squicked out about your marriage again. But I knew you were hot from him," Julia's eyes widened, as she shook her head; " _Boy_ did I know it. Here, give me your wrist."

Lily shifted, handing over her arm, and Julia held her wrist in her fingers.

"Oh, your heart rate's still elevated," Julia frowned, after a minute, lifting the chart back up to write that down, and she got a little smirk as she penned it; "Thinking about something... _dirty_?"

Lily burst out laughing, slapping Julia on the thigh, and Julia laughed along with her, before she went on.

"I'll put down something for that," she flipped the parchments closed and got to her feet; "If we can't get that sorted, it's gonna delay your discharge a bit, Honey."

"Oh! If only my Healer were – I don't know – my best friend; maybe then she'd cut me some slack and sign me out of this place."

"It's because I care that I'm keeping you here," Julia said, with a smile and a raised eyebrow; "You need twenty-four-hour attention – unless you want to ask Professor Sexy to move back in and take you home? – Nope. Didn't think so," she hung the board on the wall, as both of them attempted to get their chuckles under control; "Alright, my break's up and your chart's all done. I've got rounds but I'll check back in before I head home later. You good?"

"Yeah," Lily nodded, giving her a smile, glad of her presence and her welcome perspective, that this actually _wasn't_ the end of the world and all things good sense; "Thanks, Jules."

Julia waved a hand, before squeezing her shoulder and making her way to the door.

"Just light up if you need anything," she said, as she pulled open the door, before she added over her shoulder; "And if I happen to see Remus _brooding_ in the hallways again, do you want me to tell him to get his backside in here?"

"Yeah," Lily smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah, do."

Julia shot her another smile, before pulling the door shut behind her as she left the room.

* * *

Harry was getting better.

Harry were getting _good._

He fended off Snape's attempts at breaking through the barriers into his mind – not with ease, that would obviously be exaggerating – but he did not have to exert the same amount of energy as he used to. Definitely not like he did in the _beginning,_ anyway. And he could tell that Snape was impressed, as the lesson went on.

It was the first one he'd had in over week, after spending the full seven days following his mum's waking up at her bedside – when he wasn't at class – assuring Snape that he would work on the occlumency independently, before bed, and Snape had agreed – more quickly than Harry would have expected – and piled on a ton of mind exercises to do on top of his own practice.

Harry did as he was asked.

And, apparently, that paid off.

Harry had to fight to keep from smirking or grinning or _celebrating_ when he successfully managed to keep Snape out, three attempts in a row. Being met with only the safe, untampered with memories that Harry allowed out of 'the box' – Snape had told him to compartmentalise his thoughts, his memories, which was far easier said than done – and there were just flashes of school and Malachi and Grace and their home life, that weren't any danger, to be seen.

Nothing Voldemort could use against him. Nothing that he didn't already know.

"Prepare yourself," Snape said, before the next round; "I am actually going to try, in this next attempt."

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes and grinning; "Like you weren't trying before. You just don't want to admit I beat you."

"This is not a game, Mr. Potter."

"I never said it was. But I still won," Harry teased, grin widening.

Snape wasn't smiling.

"Ready now?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, feeling cocky, and reigned in his emotions – his delight – and hoped, prayed, he would succeed in the next attempt.

Snape wasn't kidding.

Maybe he _was_ going easier on him before. All those times before. Because, this time, he got in quickly and it was almost like he was _looking_ for the box – the memories that Harry had locked up tight – and, within a few seconds, there was Grace.

And him.

And they were on the beach in Crail – Malachi and Emma kissing on the rocks – and he was dancing, cheering his best friend on, and Grace was holding the fishing rod and giggling at her brother's antics and –

Harry forced Snape out.

He got him out, but it was too late to avoid the consequences of what he'd actually seen.

Harry met his eyes, uneasily.

But Snape didn't look angry.

In fact, he didn't even look surprised. If anything he looked…vindicated. As if he'd known all along.

But that expression of vindication did not last and it was quickly – very quickly – replaced by one of disappointment. A disappointment in Harry that he was struggling – more than he ever had before – to deal with.

"You let down your guard. So, concludes the lesson."

Snape turned away, walking in a slow pace back in the direction of the desk.

Harry felt that knot in his stomach form – infuriatingly, so – when he realised Snape was quite willing to just let him bask in that knowledge that he had disappointed him. Had somehow let him down. Not even bothering to scold him for it.

And, then, he was outraged.

"You can't do that."

Snape stopped in his steps. But he didn't turn, as Harry went on, angrily.

"You can't use these sessions to just _look_ inside my head and find stuff. You're supposed to be teaching me. It's an abuse of trust."

Harry heard Snape draw in a breath, his back still to him, before he straightened up – even more so that he already _was_ – and he spoke, softly; "An abuse of trust."

Snape turned, suddenly, to face him – his robes billowing at his sides as he did – and he crossed his arms, looking at Harry with an alarming calm.

"Mr. Potter, do you remember what you said to me the night I told you I had arranged for you and your sister to be entrusted to Mr. Black's care for the weekend?"

Harry just looked at him.

He knew whatever he said, he'd just be walking into a trap.

But Snape didn't seem to want an answer, even if there was a brief pause – a silence – before he went on.

"You said, and I quote you, that you could take care of Grace."

The accusation behind the statement stung.

Harry swallowed, glowering at him; "Well, it's not like you trusted me to do that, anyway. You still sent us."

"Indeed. I _grossly_ miscalculated the risk, assuming that less damage could be done while at the Blacks than would be had the two of you been left, here, without an adult present whom you felt comfortable to approach, should you need to, in mine and Professor Lupin's absence."

Harry lowered his eyes, shifting on the spot, at the nod to what had happened at New Year, when he _had_ been left alone, without either of them to turn to.

"But you have … a _knack_ for finding danger, wherever you happen to be, Mr. Potter."

"We just went out. Nothing happened. We were fine. Mr. Black takes us out all the time."

"Did he not inform you that the weekend was to be spent entirely indoors?"

"Well. Yeah, but –"

" _But?"_

Harry said no more. Still not entirely sure the trap had snapped upon him, yet.

"Why do you think Mr. Black instated that rule, when he has been so accommodating in allow you to leave the premises in the past?"

Harry lowered his eyes.

"Perhaps it had something to do with the _fact_ that your sister has spent the past five months under the care of Remus Lupin with the sole – very _significant_ purpose – of directing away the Dark Lord's very real suspicion that she is the daughter of Regulus Black."

Harry drew in a breath, not meeting Snape's eyes, instead opting to look at the floorboards as he went on.

"A suspicion which arose as a direct consequence from _another_ such indiscretion of yours – not unsimilar, in fact, to _this_ one. And what do you think would have happened if, after all these months, your sister was spotted at the home of Regulus Black for the Easter holidays?"

Harry shook his head, meeting his eyes, suddenly furious that Snape would bring up what had happened at the Foundation last Easter, and accuse him of _knowingly_ putting Grace in danger. That had been an accident. He wasn't to know what would happen.

He would never.

He would _never._

"Well she wasn't! We were _fine_ –"

Snape held up a hand, silencing him.

"Did you happen to use magic while you were outside of the protection of the Fidelius, during your trip to the seaside?"

"No," Harry glowered at him; "Of course not."

"Of course not. Why not?"

"Because I'm underage. It's against the law."

"And is Malachi Black aware of this law?"

"Yeah, obviously."

"And your sister?"

Harry hesitated.

Remembered the rocks.

Snape was looking at him closely.

Harry glowered right back, stubbornly, and straightened up.

"What does it matter if Grace used magic? She does it all the time. We didn't get caught."

"No?"

"No. It was weeks ago; we'd have heard by now. No one from the Ministry came."

Snape kept his eyes on him.

"Who did come, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stared back at him.

Felt his stomach drop.

No.

_No._

He shook his head.

Voldemort had found Malachi and his dad because of _them_. Because they'd - _he'd_ – taken Grace out of the house.

To go _fishing._

And Malachi and Mr. Black had almost died.

 _Again_.

And Emma …

Harry looked up at Snape, sharply; "Have you told Malachi?"

"No."

"Are…" Harry swallowed; "Are you going to?"

"No," Snape said, eyes averting slightly, before he added; "Malachi has more than paid the price for his actions. But his father might."

Harry shook his head, pressing a hand to his forehead, as the weight of this – _another –_ mistake became apparent to him.

Harry hadn't wanted to go to the Blacks in the first place. He didn't think Malachi would even want him there. Not after he'd almost gotten his dad killed at New Year.

But Snape had made them and so, he'd gone, and he'd almost got Mr. Black killed. _Again_. And Malachi, too.

And Emma _was_ dead. And Malachi was going through hell.

Somehow, he'd _still_ managed to screw up.

Harry dropped his hand and said, lashing back; "I knew you shouldn't have sent us there! I knew it! I said we'd be just fine here. _You're_ the one that sent us."

Snape closed his eyes.

And when he opened them the disappointment was back; "What's done is done."

The two of them eyed one another.

Harry tried to blame Snape but, obviously, it wasn't Snape's fault. Snape had… trusted him.

Harry realised it with the same sort of alarm as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him.

Snape stepped closer, before adding quietly, but no less decisively; "And it will _never_ happen again." He nodded in the direction of the door; "Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

Harry was glad of the dismissal.

Unable to get out of the office fast enough.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

Even the slowness of the way it opened belied the uncertainty of the person on the other side of it, so that Lily knew who it was before Remus' head had even popped around it.

Remus gave her a nod, not coming in; "Hey."

"Hey."

"Is this a bad time?"

Lily raised her eyebrows; "Only if you count interrupting my staring into space?"

Remus smiled, looking down as he finally stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

He made his way further into the room, but still stopped at a far enough distance away than could be considered normal – or comfortable – and he didn't quite meet her eyes when he finally spoke.

"How are you doing? Julia said things were looking good."

"Oh, yeah. They are. Don't let the bed fool you."

Remus nodded.

And continued to just stand there, in the middle of the room, and the awkwardness – that had never been _them –_ began to increase more and more with each second they stayed silent.

"Remus, sit. Please," Lily finally said, shaking her head; "You're making me uncomfortable."

"Believe me, you're not the only person who's uncomfortable."

"This isn't us. Whatever you came here to say, just say it."

"I don't know what I came here to say. I just wanted to see that you're alright."

Lily relaxed, slightly, softening at the statement. And she gave him a small smile.

"I'm alright, Remus."

Remus smiled.

"What about us?" Lily asked; "Are we?"

"We're…yeah. Of course."

Because _that_ sounded convincing.

"You're just saying that because you thought I was going to die."

"I'm not going to lie, it changed things a bit," Remus admitted, shifting where he stood; "Would you rather we still hated one another?"

"I've never hated you, Remus. And you've never hated me."

"No. But we were pretty mad at each other."

"Yes, we were."

Remus glanced around the room, before he met her eyes, finally; "And I'm still a bit mad at you. If we're speaking honestly about it."

"Well, I'm not mad at you," Lily countered – obviously the time in a coma had put all of that anger to rest – and went on; "Not anymore. I blamed you for something that I knew was never your fault and I'm sorry."

"Don't."

"Don't want?" Lily frowned.

"Don't lie there – newly awake from what I _thought_ was your death bed – and say that you're sorry. That's playing dirty."

Lily chuckled a little. But she asked, sincerely; "So. You don't want to forgive me?"

"Of course, I want to forgive you," Remus sighed, and then he shook his head with a shrug; "Of course, I forgive you."

"And I forgive you."

"For _what_?"

"For being a complete jackass, that's what."

Remus rolled his eyes.

"You said that I don't care about my son."

"I never said that," Remus denied it; "I know that's not true."

They met one another's eyes then, sharing a smile. A forgiveness, seeming, to come over them both. And the awkwardness faded away, with it.

"Remus, I want you to know how grateful I am for what you've been doing for Grace. I know I didn't deserve it. After what happened."

Remus shook his head with a frown.

"I don't care about that, Lily. I'd never just stand back and let her suffer to make a point."

"I know that."

"So, don't thank me. I didn't do anything more than what you would have expected me to do."

"I expected a lot of you," Lily admitted, feeling ashamed of it, now; "I took you for granted."

"Ah."

Remus nodded, looking around the room. When he noticed Lily staring at him he raised an eyebrow, getting a grin.

"Oh. Sorry. Were you expecting me to refute that?"

"You know, you're in a _very_ sassy mood, Remus," Lily said, grinning and leaning back on the pillows; "I think someone's put a smile on your face."

Remus looked back at her, seriously. And then he reddened, averting his eyes.

"Harry told you."

"Told me what?" Lily's smile widened, delighted she'd guessed it right.

"It's nothing. We're nothing."

"Oh. _Oh_ , that's believable, "Lily laughed; "Nymphadora Tonks, is it?"

"It's not like that," Remus waved a hand, dismissively; "She's…well, she's young and she's whole. I'm old and a werewolf and, as far as she thinks, a father to a six-year-old girl who I refused to claim as my own. She's not interested."

"Oh yeah. You keep telling yourself that, Remus."

Remus was still red, obviously embarrassed at being caught out. Even if Harry had only made the odd few slips, it was enough, more than enough, for Lily to put the dots together and realise what was going on.

Remus drew in a breath, returning to their previous matter of concern; "I'm glad you're okay, Lily."

"I'm glad you're okay, too," Lily said, remembering that night; "I thought you were dead. I saw you go down."

"A bump."

Lily's lips twitched; "You were unconscious."

"I was saving my strength."

She laughed and so did he and she motioned the side of the bed, next to her, again. This time, he sat down, smiling at her, warmly.

"Tell me about my daughter," Lily said, fondly; "What did I miss?"

Remus drew in a breath, smiling fondly in turn, and proceeded to tell her just all that she had missed of her little girl's life for the past five months.

* * *

Malachi sat at the very end of the Slytherin table, among the first years.

Even _they_ seemed to think he didn't belong there, those around him either opting to ignore his presence entirely or glower at him as if his very existence caused them some great offence.

Other than Daphne, the only other Slytherin who didn't glower or blank him was Draco. But Draco was only kind when they passed one another, by accident – and only if each of them were alone – and his cousin seemed to be almost removed from the Slytherin camaraderie all together these days, tending to just sit alone and look as miserable as Malachi felt.

Dumbledore finished up what he was saying. Something about the new means of assessment in various subjects. The announcement of the career fair - which was really just the Auror and Healer recruitment drive of the Ministry, as part of the war effort - which would be taking place the following month.

Malachi could have just missed this assembly and missed nothing.

He stayed still, upon the conclusion of the assembly, when many of the students remained in their seats opting to just wait there for lunch. Waited until the best moment to slip out, unnoticed.

"Malachi!"

He almost jumped out of his skin, when Harry appeared at his side, crouching down at the end of the table beside him; "Alright? I've hardly seen you the last couple of weeks."

"Yeah. I've been under my rock, so they call it," Malachi muttered, ignoring the intensifying glowers from the first years and – now – the second years, upon noticing he was openly fraternising with the 'enemy'.

"Well, come on. Assembly's over. I wanted to talk to you," Harry got to his feet, cocking his head, expectantly, and started to head out.

Malachi got up, hauling up his bag and making to follow Harry, but as he did, he was hit with a tripping hex and he hit the ground, hard, on his knees as his schoolbag fell; contents scattering across the ground.

Nearby chatter stopped, as those at the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables quickly turned to look.

"Watch your step, Muggle-Banger."

It was Blaise's voice.

Zabini, now, that Malachi had quickly lost his favour.

Daphne, who was sitting a few seats down with Pansy and Tracey, sprung to her feet; "What are you doing, Blaise?"

Harry reached down, pulling Malachi back to his feet, as he scowled in Zabini's direction.

"Giving the blood traitor what's for. Should of known he was just infiltrating."

"He's one of us," Daphne said with certainty.

"He lies with muggles and mudbloods. He's no Slytherin."

"I don't _lie_ with anyone," Malachi blushed, furiously, gripping his wand tight.

"Hell, that's even worse," one of the sixth-year boys laughed, piping up, before saying to the Slytherin boy opposite; "Only thing they're good for is killing or screwing, right, Avery?"

Malachi glowered, feeling his embarrassment quickly turn to anger, and he stepped towards him – as if he actually stood a chance against a _sixth_ year – and made to lift his wand.

Harry grabbed his wrist, shooting him an – _are you crazy?_ – look, and shook his head.

"That's disgusting, Burke," Daphne said, eyeing the older boy with said disgust, before turning her wrath back on Zabini; "Slytherins stand together. That's the first rule, above all the others. So, either way that makes _you_ lesser, Zabini, certainly no more of a Slytherin than anyone at this table. We don't turn on our own."

Draco – sitting a few seats down – met Malachi's eyes, then, giving him a small smile, even if he stayed quiet.

But Zabini got to his feet, unmoved and humiliated at being called out for his lack of Slytherin loyalty; "You need me to teach _you_ a lesson in being a Slytherin, Greengrass -"

Zabini was, suddenly, on his back on the floor. The watching Ravenclaws erupted into laughter; some of the Slytherins too.

"Owned by a girl," Daphne raised her eyebrow, wand drawn, as she crossed her arms across her chest and smirked; "Wanna threaten me again, Zabini?"

"Miss Greengrass!" Professor McGonagall's voice sounded from behind Malachi, before she swept into view at his side, drawing the attention of those in the Great Hall who hadn't already been looking; "That's twenty points from Slytherin, for that display. Follow me, if you will."

She took Daphne by the arm, leading her from the Hall, past all the amused Ravenclaws and Malachi closed his eyes as he felt his face burn.

Malachi was mortified. Utterly mortified. And he wanted to vanish into thin air, as he glowered after Daphne as she was taken away and he glanced at Harry, to share in his irritation.

Harry was watching after Daphne as if she'd just done something truly amazing.

Malachi rolled his eyes just as Luna appeared as if from nowhere, handing him back his repacked schoolbag and giving him a smile.

He mumbled a 'thanks' and hurried from the room, Harry on _his_ heels this time.

* * *

"I have said it before, and I will say it again. In-House fighting will not be tolerated, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne Greengrass stood defiantly in the middle of Severus' office, Minerva standing a few steps behind her.

"I was defending myself."

"That does not quite match up with the account I have been given."

"He threatened me. If I can draw faster than him, that's Zabini's own fault. And he attacked first. On Malachi."

Severus met Minerva's eyes.

"Mr. Black?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Explain."

"There's nothing to explain, Sir. Everyone knows what they've been doing to him. It's been happening for years."

"I should like a student perspective, if you will."

Daphne shrugged, speaking as if it were all entirely common knowledge.

"Everyone knows who Malachi is. His dad was scum who turned his back on us. So, people expect Malachi to be the same. But he's not like that. He's kind. But that's not really doing him any favours; the opposite, actually. It's not something we see often in our House, Sir. And it makes him an even easier target; that he wouldn't just blast their heads off. They'd deserve it, though, if he did. If anything, I should have hit Zabini harder."

Severus' eyes went to his desk.

It was a situation in which he had to tread carefully: the bitter infighting within his own house. He could not, after all, show disfavor towards those who spouted the pureblood supremist notions of the Dark Lord nor could he be seen to be favouring any student – least of all, the son of Regulus Black – especially in a precarious time such as this, when the events at Easter meant that the Dark Lord knew well enough there was a spy within his ranks.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Miss Greengrass. Your wish to defend a fellow student is admirable. But the detention still stands. In-House fighting will not be tolerated under any circumstances."

"But –"

"Send Mr. Zabini to my office," Severus went on, not waiting to hear any further excuses; "And have one of the prefects call an assembly for this evening in the Great Hall –"

"- the Great Hall? –"

"7pm. The entire House, no excuses."

"Yes, Sir."

Daphne nodded and turned, heading from the office and pulling the door shut behind her as she left.

Minerva wasted no time in making her thoughts known.

"Severus. That boy –"

"I know, Minerva," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We cannot allow this to go on. These concerns, they are not new. And in light of what has recently transpired – that poor girl…Severus, you came to me at the beginning of the year to request a place for him, in Gryffindor House. And he is more than welcome with us. Indeed, I must insist!"

"I'm afraid Mr. Black does not seem to think so. And what message would that send to the students? To punish Mr. Black and remove him from a House with which he so identifies himself with, because of the short-sightedness and arrogance of others within it."

"There is only so far that boy can be pushed. He is a child. And a lonely one, we have all seen it."

"As Miss Greengrass has just demonstrated, he is not alone. Not quite as much as we – and he – may think that he is. And I quite think a lesson in House Unity and what makes a Slytherin is in order."

Minerva eyed him at the suggestion; "Dare I ask?"

A knock at the door prevented him from answering, as it was pulled open and the student he had called for stuck his head around the side.

"Mr. Zabini. Do come in."

* * *

"Your Housemates are very unkind to you."

Malachi glanced at Luna, where she was sitting next to him at the desk in their Defence class, before following her gaze to a group of Slytherins up ahead who were making various obscene gestures in his direction.

Malachi turned his eyes back to his textbook, even if Luna continued to just keep staring, unblinkingly, at the Slytherins attempting to provoke him.

"Yours are horrible to you, too," Malachi pointed out.

"I don't think it's quite the same."

"Stop staring at them," Malachi whispered.

Luna turned her eyes upon him, instead, and left them there. Malachi rolled his eyes, before turning his entire attention – as much as he could – on reading over the passage in front of him – about the Unforgivables in preparation for this dreaded assessment – ignoring the whispers of 'Muggle-Banger' and 'Blood-Traitor' and 'Mudpies', that he could hear all around him.

He clutched his wand, where he'd hidden it in up his sleeve. And he tried, as much as he could, not to feel quite so angry when he heard the last one.

"Alright, so we're going to get started on the first of these practical assessments," Professor Lupin finally spoke up, having been going around setting up the tables at the front of the room, sounding almost as reluctant to announce it as Malachi felt at having to actually participate.

Malachi looked at the set up with dread.

"Now, it is not necessary for you to carry out these spells for long, and if anyone doesn't yet feel ready, then the assessments can be held off until the next term. This is advanced magic and a different kind to what we are all used to."

A hand raised up.

"Yes, Miss Bridgeway?"

"If we don't want to take the assessment, what does that mean?"

"Only that progression onto the next stage will be delayed; we'll continue to do further work on this, until everyone is satisfied that they are comfortable with it."

"Bring it on!" one of the Slytherin boys – MacMillan – declared, loudly, to laughter and jeers, from the majority of the Slytherins.

Malachi drew in a breath, shaking his head.

"If you don't want to do it, Malachi, you can just tell Professor Lupin," Luna's dreamy voice said to him, unhelpfully; "He'll hold the class back for you, if you want."

Malachi looked at her, impatiently, whispering; "Yeah, because that would really help."

"Alright, any volunteers?"

MacMillan was on his feet and in the front of the class in seconds.

"How about we all line up?" Professor Lupin suggested, when he noticed the rest of the class simply sitting at their desks, staring at the tables, expectantly.

Malachi was relieved about that, at least.

They did as they were told, and Malachi tried to get as close to the front as possible – so that more students would be queuing than watching when it was his turn – and he could hear MacMillan uttering the incantations of the Unforgivables at the front of the class, almost with _pride_ , as one of the creatures they were to be practicing upon screeched out under his – seemingly – effortless casting.

"Alright, you're all numbered, one to three," Professor Lupin said, indicating to the line; "Ones are the Imperius, Twos are the Cruciatus, Threes are –"

"Those who mean business!"

"5 points, Mr. Avery. This is not a joke."

There were grumbles of outrage among the Slytherins.

But Malachi could only stand, frozen on the spot, as he worked out his allocated unforgivable.

The Cruciatus.

He thought he'd get to pick. Obviously he wouldn't be able to do the Killing Curse. And the Imperius wasn't exactly a _good_ Unforgivable; but it was certainly more preferable to the others.

But the Cruciatus…

He was two away from the front.

The students who had successfully completed their tasks were walking past with smiles, clutching their piece of parchment confirming their pass level.

Luna was a few people behind him, and Malachi quickly counted and realised she had the Imperius.

"Luna," he whispered, waving a hand, trying to get her attention; "Psst."

Luna swayed on the spot, hands clasped in front of her, as she hummed to herself, with her eyes closed.

"Mr. Black?"

He spun round, at Professor Lupin's gentle voice.

It was his turn.

No.

Dammit.

He could already hear the snickers of his housemates behind him, when he didn't bound on up with the same enthusiasm that the others had. He reluctantly approached, before Professor Lupin could suggest he sit back down – Malachi could see it in his eyes, that he was about to, that glimmer of concern unable to be mistaken – and he took his spot behind the table.

He felt Professor Lupin's hand on his back, gently, his voice quiet and only for him; "Take your time, Malachi."

Malachi could do nothing but stare at the mouse.

He couldn't even lift his wand.

"Try the Imperius."

"Hey, that's not fair, the rest of us don't get to pick!"

"5 points, Miss Davies."

The Ravenclaws grumbled at the deduction.

Malachi shook his head. He couldn't do the Imperius either. He couldn't stop thinking about the Cruciatus. And how it felt. And how his dad had screamed and begged and begged for them to stop and let Malachi go. And he remembered the pain. The _agony_.

And the Imperius; that was surely no better. It was not the same pain, no, but they could have made his dad do anything. They could have _him_ do anything. Totally at their mercy, whichever Unforgivable they chose, and the Killing Curse would be a blessing in the end after they'd torn their nerves to shreds and made them do anything they should have wished to, anything and everything against their very nature, so that they couldn't live with the things that they'd done.

Malachi couldn't do it.

He couldn't lift his wand and cause anyone – anything – to experience that kind of pain. Not at his hand. He would sooner lay down and die, himself. He didn't care if that made him weak. He didn't care if that made him a coward.

He felt Professor Lupin's hand on his back again.

"Stage fright, eh?" Professor Lupin said, and his eyes were warm, understanding, and he gave a nod back in the direction of his desk; "We'll pick this up after class, Mr. Black."

Malachi went back to his desk, ignoring the sniggers and the jeers of his Housemates, and he tried to call on his dad's words for strength, to make him stand just a little bit taller. His assertions that it was nothing to be ashamed of, to not be able to cast the Unforgivables – in fact, his dad had made out that to _not_ be able to do so, was something to be proud of.

But Malachi didn't feel proud.

Everyone else in the class could do it. Even Luna.

It took a few of them a few tries. And some of them had to switch – none of them could cast the Killing Curse – but any that couldn't do that or the Cruciatus, they could cast the Imperius, and Professor Lupin passed them on that.

It seemed like he wanted them all to pass, dropping the bar a little lower for each of them, to let them through. So that the only person who was then holding the entire class back from progressing was _him._

Malachi's hand that clutched his quill shook, as he worked on the written assignment that they had been told to go on with, once the practicals were done.

The lesson seemed to drag on and on and on and it didn't help than Luna had decided to take it upon herself to reassure him that he wasn't a complete failure, her dreamy, far-away voice insisting that the gentlest of souls were truly the strongest or some such rubbish – and he really wished she'd stop talking so _loudly –_ until, finally, it was over and he was standing at the front of the class, alone, with Professor Lupin.

"I am sorry for that, Malachi. I should have suggested a private assessment from the outset; that was short-sighted of me."

"No. You shouldn't have to make special exceptions for me just because I'm…"

Professor Lupin was looking at him, with that same understanding in his eyes, and simply waited patiently for Malachi to go on and say what it was he thought of himself.

Malachi shook his head, abandoning the statement; "Just fail me. Let the class go on. I can just copy the work from textbooks next term or something."

Professor Lupin looked at him, appraisingly, for a moment, and then he handed over the piece of parchment with his name on it, beneath it written a single word.

 _Pass_.

Malachi frowned at the parchment.

"But…Sir, can you do that?"

Professor Lupin put a hand on his shoulder.

"The assessment is whether or not the student has a comprehensive understanding of the Unforgivable Curses. I am quite certain that, in that regard, you have a much better understanding than a large number of your fellow students."

Malachi swallowed, glancing down at the parchment; "Thank you, Professor."

"Of course, Malachi," Professor Lupin gave him a smile, that Malachi returned. Before he headed back to his desk to lift up his schoolbag and head from the room.

* * *

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry glanced up, meeting his mum's eyes at her concerned tone, and he realised he'd zoned out in his _brooding_ as all that Snape had told him a few days before played over in his mind.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Harry forced a smile, hoping it was convincing.

It wasn't.

"What's wrong?"

His mum tilted her head to the side, looking at him closely, as her hand came up to clasp his arm.

"Nothing. Um," Harry didn't want to talk about it. Not about Crail and Emma. So, he grasped for something else, something he _did_ wanted to talk to his mum about, now that he thought about it, and had just been waiting for the right time; "I…uh…I know about the prophecy."

His mum drew back, straightening up slightly in obvious – unpleasant – surprise at the statement, where she was still sitting in the hospital bed.

"Wh-" she hesitated, steadying her voice; "Where did you hear about it?"

"Snape –"

At her – even more – surprised look, he quickly corrected himself.

"Well. No. I saw it, in a memory. Dumbledore's –" his mum's eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, "- So, I asked Snape about it and he told me."

"I see. And what did he tell you?"

"Everything. I think," Harry added, with a roll of his eyes – for goodness knows what he didn't actually know, he just hoped that this _was_ everything – before he explained; "I know he was the one who told _him_ and then he went to Dumbledore to try and stop him from killing you. And that he became a spy then – and now – to protect us. And I know that it says that I'm meant to be this…this _hero_ or something, some _saviour,_ that's supposed to defeat Voldemort. But I…I just, I don't believe it, Mum," Harry shrugged; "I don't."

His mum gave him a small smile – it was almost sad – but it quickly became reassuring, as she shook her head, reaching up to brush the hair back at his forehead when she said; "I don't either, Sweetheart."

"You don't?"

Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted, all of a sudden.

Obviously, it didn't change the fact there was a prophecy saying otherwise. But to hear someone – his mum – reassuring him that, yes, it was just as ridiculous to her as it was to him was, in many ways, comforting.

"No," his mum said, with certainty, before her hand clasped his shoulder and she stated, "We are all in this. All of us. Together. Alright?"

Harry's eyes flitted between hers, wanting to believe that to be true so much. And he smiled, before he nodded, slowly, accepting the comfort.

Even if, deep down, he knew it probably wasn't true. That his mum was just as unable to believe it as he was.

He glanced at the timepiece, noticing it was past his agreed return time, and got to his feet; "I better get back," he kissed his mum on the cheek; "I'll come back again tomorrow. No occlumency. I'll bring Grace this time."

His mum smiled, giving a nod; "Alright. Goodnight, Sweetheart."

Harry gave her a warm smile, glad of the fact she was there – back with them – again and headed out into the corridor.

He had to be quick – it was past six – and he quickly made his way in the direction of the office with the floo set up at the bottom. But, as he made to pass the reception desk, Julia glanced up from behind it, quickly waving him over.

Harry gave her a smile, as he stopped up in front of her.

"Hey, Kid," she greeted him with a returning smile.

"Hey."

"Listen, um," Julia glanced around them, carefully, before leaning closer and going on, more quietly; "There is a weak point in the security, the guards do a changeover between 1am and 2, and it's up to us hospital staff to keep an eye on things up here for that hour that they're on break. Just so happens that _tonight,_ between one and two, _I_ have been granted that privilege of overseeing the clearances. So…if you think there might be someone – _anyone_ – that might want to take advantage of that? Maybe you want to let them know."

Harry frowned, staring back at Julia. He didn't know she knew about them.

"Are you talking about…" at the twinkle in Julia's eyes, Harry smiled; "I'll tell him."

Maybe then Snape wouldn't be quite so disappointed in him, anymore. If he actually managed to give him some good news for a change.

"Harry."

Harry had started to step away, to hurry on back to Hogwarts – he'd need to be even quicker, now, if he was supposed to pass on this message – but stopped at the obvious concern in Julia's voice.

"Yeah?"

"How…um…how's Malachi doing? He alright?"

Harry hesitated; not sure that Malachi would want him to say anything about it. Especially to someone so likely to pass the information on to his dad.

But, hell, he needed it. _Someone_ had to do something.

"No," Harry shook his head; "Not at all."

Julia got a little frown at the frankness.

But she said nothing more and Harry gave her a small smile of goodbye, before he turned and headed on back to school.

* * *

It was almost seven by the time Harry had learned – through hearsay – that Snape had summoned the Slytherins to the Great Hall for an assembly that evening, having spent a good half an hour attempting to track him down.

As such, upon learning the information and failing to come across him, Harry hurried on up to the Hall in the hopes he might be able to catch him once the assembly had concluded.

The Great Hall was bustling, far more than would be at that time of night, and the Slytherin table was already almost full with those waiting for Snape to come and say whatever it was he'd called them there to say.

Harry had come here to wait for Snape but, obviously, he couldn't do that with obvious intentions.

So, it was with relief that he noticed Hermione and Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ginny and Luna, and he headed over to sit with them while he waited, to make his presence there seem a bit less conspicuous.

"How's your mum, Harry?" Hermione asked, when he sat down.

Harry smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah, she's good. The Healers think she'll be home in the next couple of weeks."

"Just in time for summer," Ron said.

Harry nodded; "It's great. Perfect timing…"

Harry caught sight of Daphne walking into the Great Hall, flanked on each side by Parkinson and Davis, the three of them giggling amongst themselves as they made their way in the direction of the gathering Slytherins. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, smiling, before shooting a smirk Blaise Zabini's way, as he glowered at her from where he sat at the table, and she and Parkinson shared another laugh between them, before she climbed over the bench to sit down –

A hand slowly moved back and forth in front of Harry's face.

Harry quickly looked at the person trying to get his attention, and noticed Hermione was fighting a smile and raising an eyebrow at him, as she lowered her arm.

Harry blushed, quickly scoffing and shaking his head, but, before he could make any verbal protest, the sound of boots making a distinctive stride into the Hall and up the length of the room to the top of the Slytherin table got his – and everyone's – attention.

All the Slytherins were there, as far as Harry could tell, for the table was packed full now – he noticed Malachi, for the first time, down at the very bottom of the table, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible – and there were a few other House students scattered throughout the room, at their own respective tables.

Including Harry's little group at the Gryffindor table.

All had turned to look at Snape's entrance.

It was a Slytherin assembly.

But Snape didn't seem to care that they had an audience.

The Slytherins were entirely silent, their eyes all for their Head of House – an obedience amongst them that was, somewhat, foreign to Harry and his experience of the Gryffindor House assemblies – and Snape stood, at the top of the table, looking at them all appraisingly, before he finally spoke.

"I feel that the time has come for me to become a little more…personal in my address to you all. For the first time since my own Sorting, I am _ashamed_ to call myself a Slytherin."

There was a stir amongst those in the Hall.

"I am sure you have all noticed that we have managed to earn ourselves a quite comfortable lead on our opponents this year. Indeed, our victory is quite inevitable," Snape said, softly, eyes upon the House Hourglasses that could be seen through the double doors; "Well. No more. Every single Slytherin house point is now deducted –" the stirring intensified, as the students – including those who were not Slytherins – quickly scrambled over and turned to look and, sure enough, all the emeralds in the Slytherin hourglass vanished, as protests quickly erupted at the Slytherin table.

Snape silenced his entire table of Slytherins with _that_ look.

In fact, the whole room fell silent, as they waited to hear what Snape was going to say next.

"- And you will _all_ feel the shame of our House collapse at the end of term assembly next month as I have.

This House does not stand divided. That is the first – the _definitive_ – rule, above all others. And none of you before me can claim not to know it.

We are at war, as you are all well aware. And wars are not fought by single men. They are a collaboration of efforts, of talents, and of strengths. Of ambition and of cunning. We, Slytherins, we, more than any other House, ought to be aware of the merits of standing together as one. To overlook that which we cannot respect and find another that we can.

Slytherins _are_ the House. Every single student in this House belongs here. Every Slytherin will be seen and heard and _respected_ for what they contribute to it.

Only by standing together – here and in life – can we achieve victory. And if _that_ is all that you learn during your time at this school, in this House, then so be it."

The Slytherins – every student in the room – stared back at him in stunned silence.

"Dismissed."

Snape, himself, strode from the room, before anyone at the Slytherin table dared move an inch.

The Great Hall erupted into a din of furious voices and outrage from the Slytherins – and spirited delight from the other house students – once he had gone, and Harry shot Malachi a sympathetic look – one that conveyed he'd come and speak to him about this, soon, for this obviously stemmed from what had been going on with him – before he used the distraction of the furious Slytherins and the amused chatter of all those who had witnessed their smackdown to slip out, unnoticed, and hurry after the man who'd just thrown the entire hall into chaos.

"Professor!" Harry called after him, when he finally got within hearing distance of him at the end of the next corridor.

Snape turned to face him and Harry was struck, suddenly, with how weary he looked when he did. But he quickly reigned it in, giving Harry a slight nod; "No lesson tonight, Mr. Potter, did we not agree?"

Harry nodded – conceding the point – but still approached, so he was close enough that they wouldn't be overheard. With a quick glance around, to be sure they were alone, he said; "This isn't that. It's…it's mum." He ended, almost on a whisper.

Snape eyed him; "Has something happened?"

Harry shook his head, quickly to reassure him; "No. She's great. It's…" he glanced around again, before saying; "If you want to see her; go tonight. At 1am."

Snape frowned; "I beg your pardon?"

"It's sorted. Julia's on guard, she'll let you in –"

Snape closed his eyes.

"Mr. Potter –"

"It's all sorted. So just go."

Harry gave him a look, at Snape's obvious unease; " _Just go_. You get an hour. Just an hour, so don't be late."

Snape simply stared back at him.

And Harry gave him a smile, and a shrug; "You're welcome."

Snape lifted his eyes to the ceiling, while Harry grinned, and turned heading back in the direction he'd come to go and find Malachi.

* * *

This was a bad idea.

A foolish one.

Severus knew it, even as he made his way, carefully, back along the corridor that Julia Bradbury had caught him in the last time he had dared come to Lily's bedside.

But there was no way he wouldn't have come.

Not when he had been granted this chance – the first in so long – to see her, now that she had finally awoken.

And no man was immune to weakness, just as he had said to Harry some weeks before.

His hand rested upon the door handle that would lead to the corridor that he knew Lily's room resided. Drawing in a breath, he opened it, and stepped across the threshold.

As Harry had implied, Julia Bradbury was up ahead at the reception station.

She didn't look up.

But Severus knew she had heard him; that she was aware he was there, as she studiously kept her eyes upon the parchments in front of her.

Regulus had surely warned her about legilliemency.

Severus did not linger. He made the few steps down to Lily's door, a quick glanced around himself when he reached up for the handle.

Severus slipped into the room.

There was a comfort, there, being back in the shadows.

His eyes found Lily in the darkness: sound asleep in the bed.

Severus hesitated.

He shouldn't wake her – had Harry or Julia not told her he would be coming? – he should allow her to rest, for she surely needed it.

But who knew when they would have this chance again and he knew she would not thank him, for sitting in the chair at her bedside and simply staring at her for the full hour they had been granted, while she slept their time away.

Perhaps he was just making excuses – for he felt incredibly selfish, this night – but he approached, taking a seat beside her on the bed.

Severus reached up, gently brushing her hair back from her forehead, and the soft skim of his fingertips was enough to rouse her.

Lily blinked awake.

Simply stared back at him for a moment in that endearing – oh-so-familiar – bleary way that she always did, in those first few seconds of wakefulness.

Her voice was a murmur when she spoke.

"Are you real?"

Severus leaned closer; his own voice as quiet as hers; "Are you?"

Lily's eyes closed and she reached for him, pulling him close, and he went to her, burying his face into her neck as he breathed her in and held her tight.

It hurt more now, in her arms, than it had in all those months that they had been apart – which made no sense – but, now, knowing she was here with him once more, he finally allowed himself to feel it.

All the grief and the fear and the anguish he had suppressed when she had been lost to him; all the guilt and the remorse at his shortfalls and his choices, as he'd attempted to steer Harry and Grace down a path to safety, without the guidance of their mother.

"Shh," he heard Lily's voice murmur into his hair, and he wondered if he had spoken it aloud, what he felt, or if she just _knew_ , as she always did.

"Lily."

His voice was a whisper; hoarse and grief-stricken. And if she hadn't known what he felt, she surely did now.

"Shh. I'm here."

She was here. She was in his arms.

Severus drew her closer, still, simply holding her. No words would come to him – there should be so much to say, after all these months apart – but all seemed to pale in the face of the significance of her simply being there, with him, and _breathing_.

And, in that moment, nothing else mattered but the feel of her alive and there in his arms.

Lily reached up to where Severus' head lay upon the pillow beside her, cupping his cheek in her hand and brushing away the dampness that still lingered upon it with her thumb.

It was rare for him to allow himself to be seen this way, so vulnerable – even by her – and it was both warming and alarming. And it pained her that he had obviously been through so much – had forced down and suppressed so much of what he had been feeling – so much so that simply seeing her again was enough to make him break.

"Forgive me," he said, quietly.

"Hush," she touched a fingertip to his lips, and they twitched, in the slightest of smiles, before he gave it a kiss.

Lily smiled, unable to help herself, and shuffled closer, so their noses were almost touching; "I dreamed of you every night."

"Hm?"

She nodded; "And I would waken longing for you."

"We only have a little time," Severus glanced at the timepiece; "I should not have wasted –"

"It wasn't wasted, Severus," Lily hushed him again; "I'm here with you, _for_ you, always. Don't hide how you're feeling; not from me. Not ever."

Severus averted his eyes, going to look at where his fingers were slowly trailing up and down the skin of her arm, as if he were afraid to stop touching her. As if she might simply disappear.

"I'm here. And I love you," she murmured.

His eyes met hers once more.

And then he gave her one of his small, rare smiles; "And I, you."

Lily brushed her nose again his once, twice, and pressed her lips to his – their first kiss in far too long – and he returned it, tenderly, gently, his fingers a feather touch upon her cheek as if he were afraid of breaking her.

Lily drew back, only slightly, so that their noses still touched.

There should be so much to say, she knew it, so much to ask and know, after all these months.

But she was content in the silence, in his arms and in his gaze and, it seemed, so was he. So, they simply lay there, together, in the dark. In the silence. He there with her and she with him.

Until, too soon, he pressed his lips back to hers, once more, before he got to his feet and left the room without a word.


	68. June 1995: Bloodlines

There was a knock at the door to the office.

"Yes?"

Regulus quickly mustered up a smile, as they entered.

Narcissa stepped across the threshold and his smile warmed, turning genuine when he realised who it was, as she eyed the boxes that were scattered throughout the room.

"Spring cleaning. We do have house elves for that, you know. You really ought to use them, once in a while."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, grinning now; "Idle hands, Cousin."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, getting a smile of her own, as she took the seat opposite.

"Or –" Regulus leaned forward, giving a shrug; "- perhaps you've heard about my great escape? Part Two."

"I just may have."

Regulus shook his head.

"Do _not_ do that again."

He got to his feet, walking over to the cabinet to pour a glass of firewhiskey.

"Well. You'd think you weren't grateful."

"I'm grateful," Regulus said, with a nod, as he filled the glass; "How could I not be? Your sister tried to torture my son into insanity right in front of me. If not, to death. So, yes; for Malachi. Thank you."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

"I _am_ grateful, Narcissa," Regulus said, softly, truthfully, as he turned more fully to face her; "But I won't have you risking your life to save mine," he glanced away; "Our family's been all but wiped out on my account, as it is."

He raised his glass to his lips.

"Drinking isn't going to help that sour mood of yours, Regulus."

He drank.

"And I won't apologise for what I did. Nor will I promise not to do it again. If you don't want me at risk, you're just going to have to be a bit more careful in the future," Narcissa crossed her legs, leaning back and frowning at him; "The Trace? _Really_ , Regulus?"

Regulus only shot her a sheepish smile, not elaborating any further on how that had come about, and called on a house elf to fetch her some tea.

"What is all this?" Narcissa indicated with a hand at the boxes, as Crombie set about preparing her refreshments – as always – and Regulus took a seat back behind his desk.

"The entirety of our possessions. I haven't closed, yet, on the new property."

In actuality, he had to wait until Lily was discharged from St Mungo's before they could enact the Fidelius once more. As such, the property had simply remained vacant and empty since he had half-heartedly set about organising their relocation.

"I see," she lifted her teacup, taking a sip, as she eyed the room, quickly noticing the blankets and pillow on the couch; "So, you're sleeping… _here?"_

"You'll have to excuse me for not revealing the location of my sleeping quarters; one can never be too cautious in these times," he said, with a grin, and Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Tell me you at least transfigure yourself a bed?"

Regulus ignored the question and lifted the rolls of parchment he had set aside, handing them over; "Here. We'll aim for August for the Opening Gala. Make it big, flashy; that'll really piss him off."

Regulus wasn't even sure if he was joking.

Narcissa shot him a look.

"You don't need a party to do that, Regulus. He is none too pleased as it is. And with Severus' recent theatrics, I am not the only one who needs to be watching their step."

"What theatrics?" Regulus frowned.

"I learned of it in a letter from Draco; along with all the other parents who happen to be in the Circle."

Narcissa explained it to him; the events that had transpired within the Slytherin House at Hogwarts the week before. And when she finished, she raised an eyebrow.

"So, you see, it is not only _I_ who may have risked incurring the Dark Lord's suspicions."

Regulus glanced away.

But he could be nothing but thankful to Severus for this. What he had done had been for Malachi. And there was no help – no lifeline – he wouldn't grasp for his son.

"Playground politics, Narcissa," Regulus said, optimistically – hopefully – and added, as reassurance for himself or his cousin, he wasn't sure; "Severus has talked his way out of far more precarious situations than that. And he was known for running that House with an iron fist, long before Malachi set foot in there."

"Only time will tell, I suppose," she said, somewhat less optimistically.

Regulus drew in a breath, pushing aside the – added – worry, that Severus, himself, may just end up becoming another casualty of Regulus' existence and leaned back in his chair, before he indicated at the parchments.

"August 5th. Can we manage it?"

Narcissa gave a nod, fingering the sheets she held; "Certainly. I'll get to work."

Regulus gave her a smile; "Thanks, Cissy."

Narcissa got to her feet, tilting her chin to the side; "Was that so hard, little cousin?"

He grinned, and she did in turn, before she headed from the room.

* * *

It felt odd to walk the halls, now.

Without the fear of being jeered at or sneered at or tripped or hexed or _cursed_ in the corridors or the Common Room or the dorms or, well, anywhere on Hogwarts grounds - in the aftermath of Severus' scathing oration - Malachi found it was quite easy – pleasantly easy – to exist in this new reality.

It was easy to blend into the shadows when people weren't constantly looking in them for him.

"Auror or Healer, hm," Harry made a show of thinking about it, where the two of them were in the – very loose, hardly effective – line up, waiting to get into the Great Hall where the 'Careers Fair' had been set up.

"You have to be good at Potions and Herbology to be a Healer," Malachi pointed out.

"Guess that makes me an Auror by default."

"I think you need it for that, too. Potions, anyway."

"So, according to the Ministry, I have no future," Harry said, with mock concern, as he flicked through the leaflets that had been set up just outside the entrance.

"There's people here for the Curse Breaker and the Obliviator branches as well, Potter –," a voice spoke from behind him, and Malachi glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see it was Draco – with Daphne a few steps behind; "- If your credentials don't meet that of the top guns, that is."

Harry eyed him with annoyance.

"I'd rather be a Healer than an Auror," Malachi said, glancing at the door.

"Healer Black," Daphne's arm came up around his neck as she stepped in beside them; "Almost makes me wanna get sick."

Malachi gave her a smirk, before meeting Harry's eyes. Trying to, anyway, but all of a sudden the leaflet Harry was reading became oh-so-very interesting as he peered, closely, at the text, completely ignoring Daphne's arrival.

"What about you? What do you wanna do?" Malachi asked her.

She shrugged; "Write. Like my dad. This is a waste of time. Everyone _knows_ this is just a recruitment stunt by the Ministry; drag the kids into the war before they have a chance to even know or question what it is they think about it. They want soldiers, that's all. It's disgusting, really. They're even making the first years come to this."

"Well, it's not that bad, is it?" Harry said – _bravely_ peering over the leaflet at her; "I mean, at least we'd end up on the right side, if we did get dragged into it by them."

"There's no _right_ _side_ in war, Potter. It's just war. And bloodshed solves nothing."

Harry didn't look like he agreed but when Daphne met his eyes, challenging him, he blushed and looked back at the leaflet as if she hadn't even spoken.

Malachi snickered, rolling his eyes, and Daphne met his eyes with a frown.

"What?"

"Nothing," he gave her a smile, just as Professor McGonagall walked up past the line.

Professor McGonagall's eyes glanced in the direction of the House Hourglasses – the empty Slytherin one – and she got a proud little smile when she saw it, probably not for the first time, before she addressed the students.

"You have all been excused from classes for two hours, to attend this event. I expect you all to be on your _finest_ behaviour. You are representatives of the school and are to conduct yourselves accordingly when interacting with our guests."

Malachi and Harry shared a grin.

"There will be presentations in forty-five minutes time; one for each of the two primary occupations, and I am afraid you will only be able to choose one. As such, I urge you all to use the time wisely, speak to as many of our guest speakers as you can, ask questions, think carefully. And, I must stress that no one sign there name to anything, without first seeking guidance from your respective Head of House – either myself, or Professor Snape –" she indicated with a nod as said professor approached, and every Slytherin in the line straightened up, hastily, as he passed; " – now. Line up. In twos, if you please."

Malachi deliberately stepped back, lining up next to Draco, so that Harry was left alongside Daphne.

Draco glanced at him, out the corner of his eyes; "Hey, Mac."

Malachi gave him a brief, small smile, saying nothing, and bit his bottom lip to keep from chuckling when Harry shot him a look over his shoulder – as red as he had been when Daphne had dared make eye contact.

"Anyone been bothering you the past week?"

"Oh. Um. No. Not since…"

"Good."

"Didn't know you cared."

"You're my little cousin. 'course I care."

Malachi frowned, shifting where he stood, before they began to make a slow move forward into the hall.

"Well…thanks," Malachi said. Leaving out the ' _for nothing',_ that lingered in the air.

"If anyone bothers you again, just come get me. I'll sort them out."

Malachi looked at Draco with a frown. Draco met his eyes, then.

"Why?"

"Because you and I are family," Draco said, as if it were obvious.

Malachi didn't answer that. He didn't, really, know how to. As far as he was concerned his _family_ was him and his dad.

And he was glad when, upon stepping over the threshold into the hall, Harry immediately left Daphne's side and returned to his, looking red and flustered.

Malachi raised an eyebrow with a grin; "Alright?"

Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him over in the direction of the Auror tables, away from Draco and Daphne; "I think I liked it better when they avoided you."

"Daphne's never avoided me," Malachi pointed out, as they stepped up to one of the tables set up with an Aurors display; "And since when do you fancy her, anyway?"

"I don't fancy Daphne!" Harry spluttered, blushing again, more furiously this time, while shaking his head in denial as Malachi laughed; "She's the most annoying girl in school."

"You know, I think you always have, actually," Malachi said, thinking about it; "You've never shut up about how pretty she is, ever since I made friends with her."

"I've never said that."

"You did. _A lot_."

"Hi there, boys," the man – the Auror – behind the table addressed them, with a friendly smile; "You two thinking about joining the Auror Program? How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Almost fifteen," Harry added to Malachi's answer.

"Fifth year after the summer? You could sign up now, if you're interested; there's a ton of support during the OWL year. You'd be pretty much guaranteed a spot."

"Um. He's Harry Potter," Malachi pointed out; "He's pretty much guaranteed a spot wherever he wants."

The man's eyes immediately went to Harry's scar, while Harry shot him a look. Malachi shrugged, apologetically, but it was obviously true. Harry could be whatever he wanted. Even if he flunked out of Hogwarts, completely, there'd be employers lining up to offer him a spot on their programs.

"Let me go and get you some more information –" the Auror said, suddenly looking excited – that _he_ should be granted the credit of snagging Harry Potter as one of his recruits – before he vanished behind the screen behind him.

"Sorry," Malachi apologised, when he'd gone.

Harry shrugged; "It's fine. I wanted to look into it, anyway. Least I've got this guy's attention – oh, hey, there's Julia," he nodded in the direction of the Healer's section.

Sure enough, Julia Bradbury was one of the guests, and she noticed them looking a few seconds after they noticed her and raised her hand in a smile and a wave.

"Go, say hi," Harry gave him a nudge, "I'll be over in a second."

Malachi glanced between them, uncertainly, but Harry had jostled him enough that he'd been forced to take a few steps in her direction, enough that it'd be rude for him to not head over; so, he did. Feeling more than a little awkward and unsure of the appropriate etiquette when greeting the – he assumed, by now – breaker of his father's heart as he did.

"Hey, Kid," Julia greeted him with her usual enthusiasm, when he reached her table; "How you doing?"

"Good," he shrugged, giving her a lie and a shy smile. His eyes found her hand, looking for a ring, which obviously wouldn't be there; which pretty much confirmed that she and his dad were over, now.

He kept his eyes on the table, feigning more interest in the information about Healers upon it than he actually felt, so as to avoid looking at her and feeling even more awkward, as he waited for Harry to join them. There was a little timeline, the progression to becoming a Healer, and when he met Julia's eyes – that were upon him with that familiar concern that all adults seemed to have whenever they looked at him these days – he said, if only to fill the silence; "So, it takes a while? To become a Healer?"

Julia looked a little surprised at the question; "Oh, um. Sure," she nodded, before stepping a bit more in front of him and lifting up one of the leaflets; "There's some pretty tough academic requirements. Not that you'd have any trouble meeting them, from what your dad's told me; Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology – you're good at that one, right?"

"Yeah. My mum…" he trailed off. Was it wrong to talk about his mum in front of his dad's… _ex_ -girlfriend?

"She was a Herbologist, right?" Julia nodded, with an easy smile; "Yeah. So, from there you'd normally start off with the three-year Healing program; then you've got the two-year Apprenticeship; then the two-year Internship where you specialise; and then there's Fellowship programs. Another two."

"That's almost ten years," Malachi said, staring at it in disbelief. He didn't realise it had taken so long for Julia and Mrs Potter to become Healers.

"Yeah," Julia chuckled at his astonishment; "Yeah, it takes a while."

She reached for another pamphlet – though it was obvious she didn't have quite the same enthusiasm for that one – and went on; "The Ministry is proposing an accelerated apprenticeship; combining it with a simplified version of the Healing Program you'd normally start out with. That'd get the recruits out on the field in the first couple of months."

"Oh. So, that'd make Healers in three years?"

"A new Internship Program – assuming the war was still going strong – would be created at that point and all automatically enrolled onto it; Combat Treatment and Anecdotes."

"Oh. So, we wouldn't even get to pick a speciality or anything? We'd just be…like, Wartime Healers, or something?"

Julia put the pamphlet aside, glancing around them, before she said, quietly; "I didn't know you were interested in becoming a Healer."

Malachi met her eyes, giving a shrug with a glance in the direction of the Auror side of the hall when he admitted; "I hadn't really thought about it." He glanced back at Julia, at the table; "I don't want to be an Auror, though. I want to help people. But I don't want to have to hurt other people to do it."

Julia moved slightly, so that Malachi met her eyes.

"Well. Contrary to what the Ministry would have you believe; those aren't the only two options on the table."

Malachi felt himself relax under her warm gaze and he shrugged; "So…what do you think I'd be good at?"

Julia raised an eyebrow, seeming to think about it for a second before giving a smile; "Well, you've got a good head on those shoulders. And you've got some pretty big thoughts. I think you have a voice. You just have to find it."

Malachi frowned, confused at the statement; "What do you mean?"

"I mean I think you could be a leader. Like your dad."

Malachi stared back at her.

It was the first time in his life that anyone had ever made out that being like his dad was something to aspire to. As if his dad was someone to admire.

And, suddenly, he felt very close to her. That she could see him – his dad – the way that Malachi did.

Malachi glanced around, ensuring they were alone, before meeting her eyes again.

He gave her a small smile, asking timidly; "Did you love him?"

Julia looked a little uneasy at the question, but her smile was still warm – if a bit regretful – when she nodded; "Yeah."

Malachi smiled, more fully this time, finding himself liking her even more than he already did. And it didn't feel quite so awkward now, speaking to her knowing she'd walked away, nor did he even feel guilty for thinking it, that he was glad his dad had fallen in love with her, when before he'd always been unable to untangle the way he felt about that with his lingering love for his mum.

"I um…I'm sorry," Malachi said, sincerely, wondering if what had happened with him at Easter had been part of the reason they'd broken; "About what happened between you two. I think you would have been a great stepmum."

Julia was visibly touched by the statement. Her smile faltered, even if the warmth of her gaze didn't, before it and her eyes softened when she said, quietly; "I would have loved that, Malachi."

They shared a smile; and Malachi knew she felt regret for it, too. Regret he didn't even realise _he_ felt until now, at the lost chance they'd had – the three of them – of being a family.

"Hey, Julia!" Harry's upbeat voice interrupted the moment, as he appeared at Malachi's side, clutching a gazillion pamphlets and flyers.

"Wow, you've been busy," Julia eyed the parchments with a smile; "Someone's really taking this seriously."

"Aw, it's the Auror that's taking it seriously," Harry said, casting a look over his shoulder at the table he'd just escaped from; "He was practically holding my hand, trying to get me to sign on the line. Snape had to show up and scare him off."

"He did?" Malachi chuckled, eyes searching the room for Severus.

He spotted him making a slow walk down the middle of the room, any Slytherins he happened to pass either tensing or straightening as he went by them, the effects of his address the previous week still being felt.

"Did he come?" Harry's voice was a whisper.

Malachi looked back at him and Julia, noticing the little grin Julia got as she patted the side of her nose, twice.

Harry grinned.

"What?" Malachi asked, eagerly, at their obvious conspiring.

"Just putting Snape in a good mood," Harry said with a grin and a shrug, before he put an arm around Malachi's shoulders and dragged him away; "See you this summer, Julia!"

"Bye, guys."

Malachi cast a warm smile over his shoulder at her, before Harry dragged him off to take at seat at the Auror presentation.

* * *

"Will you be back after the summer?"

Tonks lifted her shoulders with a little grin; "Who can say? Why, will you miss me?"

Remus gave her a little smile, glancing down at the counter, tapping his thumb; "Just thinking the help has been…most invaluable this term _'Miss Tonks' –"_ she shot him a look and gave him a playful shove at the name he'd insisted the students refer to her has – "I think I might be quite lost without you next year."

"Well," Tonks' smile turned a little coy, and she cleared her throat, glancing down before she lifted her chin and met his eyes; "What if I said you didn't have to do without me, huh? We could drink on it."

Remus looked at her, uncertainly; "Oh. Um…"

Tonks' confidence diminished somewhat at his - apparent - lack of enthusiasm; "Or…well. No. Sorry. Forget I said anything –" she waved a hand.

"No, no –" Remus quickly protested – against his good sense – and Tonks met his eyes again, looking more hopeful.

"No?"

Remus cleared his throat and gave her a smile; "It's a little bit complicated. That's all."

Tonks shrugged, getting a grin; "Well. It's not like I ever thought it'd be boring, Remus."

Remus chuckled, giving a nod; "It certainly wouldn't be that."

Tonks smiled, warmly, both of them did, at one another where they stood in the kitchenette of his quarters. It had become almost an everyday occurrence now, at the end of lessons, that he should find himself here with her – and, usually, Grace – and they'd play, and they'd flirt, and Remus enjoyed it. Immensely.

Obviously, he would. She was an incredible, bright, lively – _beautiful_ – young woman.

He just didn't really understand why she should like _his_ company so much. She knew the truth – the werewolf – and the lie – the absent father – and, as far as he was aware, neither particularly recommended him as a 'catch'.

Still, that didn't stop Tonks looking at him they way she did, sometimes – often – the way she was looking at him, now, actually.

It had been a _very_ long time since anyone had looked at him in such a way.

He'd have to go all the way back to Hogwarts.

"So?" Tonks asked, with a sparkle in her eyes; "Will we call it a date, then?"

Remus smiled.

That was all the encouragement she needed, and she bit her lip, giving another coy smile, before she stepped a little closer – oh… _oh –_ and she stood up on her tiptoes a bit, her fingertips touching his jaw, as she pressed her lips to his.

It took all of two seconds for him to kiss her back.

His hands came up to take her face in his hands – gently, of course – as he returned her affections and it was slow and sweet and, he supposed, no harm could come from whatever little ride Nymphadora Tonks seemed fit to take him along for. In fact, he was quite willing to just go with it and enjoy whatever little scraps of affection she saw fit to throw his way.

He drew back and she smiled, adorably coy, before she chuckled, but then something out the corner of his eye caught his attention: Grace, coming out of her room – what would soon no longer be so – with tears on her cheeks as she walked over to the couch and pulled herself up onto it with a sniff.

"Oh, Grace," Remus was at her side in an instant, taking a seat next to her on the couch and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder; "What's the matter?"

Grace looked up at him, sadly, her eyes shimmering with tears; "I don't want to leave Hogwarts, Uncle Remus. I want to stay."

"Oh, Gracie," Remus sighed, giving her a hug – a wash of relief coming over him at the innocent reason for her tears – and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head; "It's a good thing, Sweetheart. Your mum's coming home tomorrow. It'll be just how it used to be."

"But I _like_ the Castle. I like the magic and the people and the _ghosts_ and the creatures and the passages and the _portraits –"_ her eyes were widening with excitement with each proclamation, and then her excitement dimmed, and her shoulders dropped; "At home, there's only just me and Mum. I'll miss you. And Harry and Malachi. And Professor Snape."

Remus saw Tonks' confused look at the last addition and he quickly spoke up, before Grace could reveal any more; "We'll all miss you too, Grace. Very much. But you can visit, any time you want."

Grace looked at him with a frown; "I can? You've never let me visit you before."

Remus tried to ignore the flit of shame he felt when he caught Tonks' response to _that_ little statement, and nodded; "Of course. As long as your mum's alright with it."

"Why can't Mummy just come live here with us?"

Remus smoothed down her hair, giving her a little smile; "Because it's not home."

Grace's eyes lowered.

"I'll tell you what. How about we go for a little walk, hm? If tonight's your last night in the Castle, it's only right you should get to say a proper goodbye."

Grace met his eyes, giving him a small, sad smile, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper; "Okay."

* * *

Severus made his way down the hall.

It would be a lie, of course, if he said he wasn't _enjoying -_ just a little _-_ the way his Slytherins would straighten up with respect whenever he passed them by ever since he'd spoken to them the previous week. Of course, there had always been respect. Just not quite so blatant as was being displayed in light of his recent statement to the House.

Not a single instance of infighting had been reported in the aftermath, finally putting the crumbling of the Slytherin House to a much-needed end.

And he was certainly glad of the fact that Malachi was now – visibly – far more settled than he had been since the first moment his Godson had set foot in the school.

And then, of course, there was Lily.

That moment in time, where he could pretend it was just they two, for a little while, had been a brief, bright spot in all of the darkness. And, as always, just the comfort of her arms and her gaze and her whispers were enough to ease some of the weight and remind him that this – all of this – was going to be worth it.

Despite Harry's assertions to the contrary.

They _would_ be together. They would be a family.

Severus would do whatever it takes, to make that happen.

"Professor Snape!"

Severus hesitated at the achingly familiar voice behind him – so innocently familiar that it could almost wipe all of the warmth and strength he'd gained from his time with Lily away – and he, reluctantly, turned with a quick glance to ensure they were alone.

"Hi!" Grace beamed at him, as she skipped the last few steps to come up short in front of him. Remus Lupin was some way behind, but, evidently, had made no move to stop her approach. Lupin just raised his shoulders, slightly, at Severus' look.

Severus turned his eyes upon his daughter.

"What can I do for you this evening, Miss Potter?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye," she said, and her excitement dimmed at her statement; "I have to go home tomorrow."

"Ah. One would think that would be a good thing."

Grace shrugged; "I don't think so. I think it would be much better if my Mummy came here to live with us and see all the magic," her eyes were bright with the enthusiasm she always had when she talked about it – the Wizarding World – and then they lowered, when she added; "But Uncle Remus said here isn't home."

Severus lips twitched – the threat of a smile that he quickly quashed – before he nodded and agreed; "Indeed. It is not."

Her eyes met his.

And then she gave him a smile with eyes full of warmth – a punch to his gut – and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pebble from inside.

It was white with brown spots – she had given him such stones, in the past, in better times – and she held it out to him; "I brought you a present. To say goodbye. I hope you won't forget me, Professor Snape."

Severus drew in a breath, shaking his head.

"How could I ever, Miss Potter?"

Grace's smile widened and she shook the hand that held the stone.

Severus took it.

The touch of their fingertips caused a flash in his vision – a memory, from long ago, flashing before his eyes, a younger Grace with the very same smile and eyes of brightness, beaming up at his as she gave him one of the exact same stones – and he stepped back, startled, at the unexpected jolt.

It was a memory.

Severus looked at Grace, quickly.

Grace was frowning, staring at the ground.

He regained his composure, speaking carefully; "Miss Potter?"

Grace met his eyes.

And then she smiled, not knowing him.

But then she said.

"My daddy likes those stones. And he says he loves me more than pudding."

Severus frowned.

And then she beamed at him; "Goodbye, Professor Snape!"

Before she turned and hurried on by.

Leaving Severus staring after her in her wake.

* * *

"Ugh, two years! Whatever am I supposed to do without you?"

Julia chuckled, not looking up from the parchment she was filling out at Lily's overdramatics; "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way to bear the sorrow at my absence. Hell, after tonight you're going to be far too busy with arms full of professor to even be thinking about me."

Lily shot her a grin and a look from where she was finishing packing up her bag; "Well, I suppose a congratulations are in order. But believe me, I give it reluctantly."

Julia tore off the end of the scroll of parchment, handing it over with a grin; "Here you go. Your instructions on how to ensure you make a full and speedy recovery. Now, remember you have to take it easy for a couple of weeks. Bottom, not top."

"Julia!"

They burst out laughing.

"Hey –" Julia held up her hands; "- I'm just letting you know it is _A – okay_ for you to be getting back down to business. You would not _believe_ how many people ask me that when I'm discharging them."

Lily snickered, her lips pursed together as she tried to keep from laughing too hard – the jostling still hurt, a little – and before she could say anything more Grace bounded into the room.

"Mummy!"

"Oh, hello, Sweetheart," Lily knelt down to the welcome feel of her daughter's arm winding tight around her neck; "Are you excited to go home?"

"Um –" Grace glanced over her shoulder at Remus, who was just coming through the door, before meeting her eyes and saying, sweetly; "Of course, Mummy. It's home."

Lily gave her a little smile, ruffling her hair; "Going to miss the magic at Hogwarts, hm?"

"Yes!"

The three adults in the room laughed.

Julia hung the – now empty – chart board on the wall and announced; "Well, that's you all set. I'll check in a couple of times before my shifts this week. See how you're doing."

"Thanks, Jules," Lily smiled, as they hugged, before Julia headed from the room – saying a hi and goodbye to Remus as she did – and Lily turned to Remus.

"So, that's me, then."

"Yeah," Remus nodded, stepping forward and indicating the bag; "Here, I'll get that."

"Oh, it's fine, Remus."

"No, I'll help you," he insisted, giving her a smile, and she returned it, stepping back so he could cast a minimalizing spell and lift it up.

Lily took Grace by the hand; "Home it is then, Grace."

"I like my bed at home better than Hogwarts. And seeing you. But that's it," Grace said, as they headed out the room; "Maybe you could take me back sometime, Mummy? There's lot of people I'd like to visit now."

"We'll see, Sweetie."

"Uncle Remus said I could stay with him, sometimes, if you let me. Like Harry used to. That would be fun!"

"I bet it would," Lily grinned, as they carried on walking.

Grace filled the journey with her tales of Hogwarts and of all of the magic she'd seen all the way home.

* * *

Malachi sat upon his bed in the dorm room, curtains drawn with a silencing charm placed upon it, surrounded by the various books he had gathered about the Statute and the Prophet articles about his dad's trial and the articles that his dad had written as a teenager, when he had fought and rallied dozens of students behind his case for the abolishment of the Statute of Secrecy.

He mulled over the words Julia had said to him at the career fair.

A voice.

His dad had a voice. He made it look easy. He could get up on the stage at the Foundation and have all the guests laughing and hanging onto his every word, with his smiles and his jokes.

If Malachi were to ever find himself on a stage in front of that many people, he'd count himself lucky just to not wet himself with the fright of it.

Besides, who would even care what _he_ had to say?

He leaned his head back on the headboard and closed his eyes. He thought about Emma – her blue eyes and her sweet smiles and the laugh in her voice as she teased him – and got a small, sad smile.

That anyone could think that she was unworthy – that she was _beneath_ him – simply because she wasn't of the magical world was absurd. She was just…perfect. No other girl – none of the witches – in Hogwarts even came close to her.

But, then, Malachi wasn't exactly an unbiased source.

He wondered if he would always feel this way.

Wondered if he'd ever be able to look at another girl and not compare them. Or was he destined to follow the footsteps of his dad, simply flitting from one person to the next – meaninglessly – not even able to settle down and stay with the one who did, finally, manage to move him in the same way as Emma had, anyway.

He lifted the book that he had just finished reading. The one about the obstacles facing a witch or wizard who should find themselves in love with a muggle.

He had been sure at Easter that his dad had been wrong; that his assertions that he would be, basically, ruining his life by wanting to be with a muggle were unfounded.

But, he quickly realized as he had read the accounts of the witches and wizards who had lived through it; maybe his dad _wasn't_ wrong about that.

Not so long as _these_ rules remained in place, anyway.

Those that demanded segregation: silence and secrecy enforced between them, unless bound by marriage or parenthood to a muggle.

He flicked through, eyeing the faces of those who had done it; all those who had chosen to give up their magic, their own _world_ , for the love of a muggle. Forced to choose between who they were and who they loved.

For a muggle could never find a place in their world, with all of the ignorance – on _their_ side, the wizarding side of it all – that the statute demanded of them. It was the magical being who had to give it all up, who had to deny their nature and slip into the muggle world, forced to do so, not by muggles but by the laws of the wizarding world, itself.

Muggle Studies should be made compulsory, Malachi thought it as he tossed the book back onto the bed. Muggle interactions – true, honest ones – should be _encouraged_ , not prohibited.

This veil between them hid too much; allowed too much distance and ignorance to grow between them, and that only bred fear and unease. It was a breeding ground for hate and for violence, the likes of which Grindelwald and Voldemort preyed upon and used to further their own malevolent aspirations.

Malachi's hand found the Walkman that he'd hidden under his pillow. He'd brought it with him, worried it would get lost in the move. Even though he knew it wouldn't work here.

Nothing much worked here, Malachi thought it, despondently. But then, maybe it was _him_ who wasn't working; he just wasn't fitting in – always coming up short – with what everyone else was telling him he was supposed to be.

He pulled out the Walkman, eyes going to it. The little piece he had left of them; of him and Emma. And he thought of the good of them – not the lies, that he'd been bound by law to tell her – as his eyes went to the little plastic window, where he could see her writing inside.

Love, Emma.

Malachi stared at it for a moment.

And then he put it aside, and he leaned forward, using a sweep of his forearm to clear the space on the bed in front of him – accioed all that he needed – and began to write.

He wrote and wrote, the quill not stopping, as he did.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.

It could have been anything, Malachi didn't know, but what he did know, was that everything he wrote down was _him._

It was what he had to say about it all.

And it was only once he got to the end, that he hesitated, staring at the blank spot of the parchment beneath his last sentence.

And then he drew in a breath and signed off.

Max E. MacLean.

* * *

"Hold on tight, fair maiden! It's coming home!"

Grace squealed with laughter from where she was up on Regulus' shoulders, as they finished up the run he had taken her on out in the clearing out the front of the house. One of the wooden chairs on the grass was suddenly transfigured into a mattress as they approached, and Regulus grasped her under her arms as he reached it, giving her a little toss into the air that made her squeal before she landed on the mattress with a bounce.

"Again, Mr. Black!"

Grace immediately got to her feet.

Regulus eyed her, almost panting, with a grin and a hand on his chest.

"I think you've tired Mr. Black out quite enough, Sweetheart," Lily said – saving him – with a laugh in her voice, from where she sat on the stone step of the porch.

Grace giggled, innocently, and jumped off the mattress, and ran down in the direction of the loch.

"Make sure you stay where Mummy can see you."

Regulus came over, with a smile and splayed his palms; "So, what do you think? Can we keep our boys out of mischief in a place like this?" He plonked down next to her, with a grin.

"Can we keep them out of mischief, anywhere? I think that's a bit of lost cause."

"So do I," Regulus said, with a chuckle, leaning his arm over his knees as he pointed out at the water; "Malachi's been telling me Harry's taken quite the fancy to fishing; we could get a boat, I'll take them out."

Lily turned to him, with a raised eyebrow; "I didn't know you had a talent for fishing."

"My presence on the boat would be purely ornamental," he explained, and they both laughed, as he went on; "For supervision purposes, only."

"I'm surprised you'd even be willing to have Harry come stay here, after the last two disasters," Lily pointed out, getting a little frown.

"Like you said, disaster seems to be a somewhat inevitable cloud that hangs upon us all these days," he shrugged, turning away slightly so that she wouldn't see the clouded over darkness in his eyes when he did; "No reason to stop the boys from living while they can."

Lily got a smile, giving a nod, as she glanced at the house and the surroundings; "It's very nice."

"It's very muggle," Regulus clarified, leaning back on his elbows; "Harry's not the only one who's taken a fancy to muggle activities. And this island is, somewhat, secluded enough that we should evade capture for a good while, yet."

"What happened at Easter?"

"Severus never told you?"

"Not yet. I heard a bit, from Julia –"

Regulus tilted his head away again, slightly.

" - but I imagine there's a lot she didn't know."

"Mhm. Yes. Seems when the boys were out meeting this girl – Emma," Regulus said, with a clear of his throat, as if in respect, "- Grace had, inadvertently, done some magic, which set of the Trace. The Dark Lord has infiltrated the Ministry. I have some of my own contacts working on that."

Lily frowned, staring at the ground, before her eyes found Grace where she was paddling ankle-deep in the loch.

"I didn't know…I wouldn't have brought her here –"

"It was an accident, Lily. She's a kid. It happens."

Still, it wouldn't be happening again, Lily thought to herself, feeling incredibly uneasy with the new piece of information. Grace's tendency to defy the rules and perform wandless magic wasn't something she and Severus were unaware of; though it was, certainly, something that they had neglected to fully clamp down upon. She and Severus had performed underage magic, frequently, when they were children themselves, after all, though neither had faced any such consequences as her own children often seemed to, whenever they dared break the rules.

"I'll have to talk to her," Lily said and, when she noticed Regulus begin to say something to the contrary, she shook her head; "About the magic, not what happened at Easter. We've been needing to get that under control for a while."

"Well, while on the topic of getting things under control –" Regulus reached into his robes, pulling out a thickly rolled up scroll, and handed it over; "Here's all you missed."

"Wow. You've been _busy,"_ Lily eyed it, beginning to unroll it to take a look.

"Blood magic and horcruxes, should make for riveting bedtime reading," Regulus said with a grin, as he kept his eyes on the water; on Grace, Lily realized, and she wondered if he, too, was as uneasy about her being there as Lily was, even if he hadn't admitted it.

"You've found more on the horcruxes," Lily fingered through, finding that first.

"Sentient horcruxes; there's not much, they're incredibly rare. But that's what we're dealing with in Nagini," Regulus explained; "There's some accounts on the links between horcruxes living and their creator; how the hosts respond and interact with one another. We know the inanimate horcruxes were less than thrilled to be close to one another; but it seems as if Nagini doesn't quite share that same pain."

"Anything in here about that?"

He shook his head; "I've combed through but that's not exactly my forte."

"Severus?"

Regulus raised his eyes to hers, before glancing away with a wry smile; "I think he's had enough on his plate, without bothering him with our assignment."

"How's he been?"

"Quite lost without you."

Regulus said it lightly, but Lily knew it was said sincerely and, after how Severus had come to her the week before, she knew it to be the case.

"I heard about you and Julia," Lily said, eyeing Regulus where he sat out the corner of her eye; "I'm sorry."

"Oh, well. That was inevitable," he cleared his throat; "As most things are."

Regulus sat forward, rather that turning away this time, so that she could only see the back of his head.

"She's leaving, did you know?"

He turned, slightly, meeting her eyes; "Oh?"

Lily nodded; "She got accepted onto one of the Advanced Fellowships at the Touchman Institute in New Zealand; starts in August."

Regulus gave a small nod, eyes on the step, before he got a smile; "That's great. Tell her…"

He trailed off.

Lily raised her eyebrows after a few seconds; "Tell her?"

Regulus met her eyes. Forced a smile and shook his head – "No," – as if just realizing she was there and what he was saying; "Don't tell her anything," he got a grin and put his hand on his chest; "I am happy for her. And I will express that happiness, with my silence."

"Regulus –"

"There's some Blood Magic progress in there too. I _did_ try to approach your not-quite better half with that side of it," Regulus abruptly changed the subject, with a nod at the parchments; "I've come across some warnings about the consequences of malpractice; a severing of the blood lines at the point of misuse."

"Well that doesn't sound good," Lily said, with a frown, eyeing the scrolls.

"On the contrary, that may just be the answer," Regulus said, turning more to face her; "If we can severe the bloodline between myself and Malachi –" Lily met his eyes, sharply; "- then that would more than solve the problem. We could call down the ancestral lines, through me, and the curse of doing so would die with me rather than passing on to my son."

"Are you _mad_?" Lily shook her head; "You can't severe the blood line between you and Malachi; what would that even mean?"

"Nothing. It wouldn't mean anything," Regulus said, simply, with a shrug; "All it means is that Malachi's blood would no longer be recognized by the ancestors – and Black blood has been a curse on him rather than a blessing as it is – and he would be unable to call upon the line to engage in any ancestral performances or rituals in the future. Something that he would never do, anyway."

"But they wouldn't protect him, either, if he needed it."

"The only reason Malachi needs protection at all is _because_ he is a Black."

The two of them stared at one another.

Regulus ducked his head – as if by speaking as such he'd revealed too much of himself – and glanced away; "It would take something quite ghastly to evoke a severance of the blood lines, I imagine. Or perhaps if I were to piss off the ancestors enough at my point of the line, they'd simply do it for me. Though, I imagine that might be somewhat difficult to do, as well." Then he got a smirk; "Then again, in my case, maybe not."

Lily met his eyes, giving him a grin; "I think you're underestimating yourself."

Regulus laughed.

"Well. It must be possible. According to these findings, it is something that has actually occurred. Do you mind taking a look? It'd put to rest our own stumbling block and finally get things moving, again, if we could do it."

"It wouldn't. Not for this. A sacrifice needs to be made, _first_ , to enact – have you spoken to Severus about this?"

Regulus got a smirk, and he met her eyes, briefly, giving a nod; "Yes. We've had disagreements."

Lily gave a little chuckle, but it lacked any real humour.

"He's not going to just stand by and allow you to throw yourself to the snakes on a _hunch_ , Regulus. We don't even know if the ancestral magic would work."

"It worked for Frank Longbottom."

"From pieced together information; no eyewitness accounts other than that of a baby boy in his cradle."

"We have an eyewitness account. The Dark Lord."

"If we _were_ to find a way to do this –" she said it, making sure Regulus knew she was by no means on board; "We'd need Severus. I couldn't perform that kind of ritual."

Regulus nodded, knowing it were true.

"And he wouldn't," Lily said, with certainty; "Not unless we had information; foolproof, one hundred percent accurate information, that what you were about to do would actually work."

Regulus leaned back on his elbows; "It just so happens that I am in the process of gaining that information."

"From where? Who?"

"From someone who has absolutely no investment in my survival."

"Well, that's not ominous."

He got a smirk but did not elaborate.

Lily sighed, shaking her head; "Regulus, think about this. _Really_ think about it. If this worked…you'd be leaving Malachi without his father."

Regulus' eyes lowered to the grass.

"Lily," he met her eyes, a rare moment of candor in them when he did; "As long as I am living, my son will never have a life. The Dark Lord is going to destroy him. That girl the Dark Lord killed; that was my doing. Malachi; he's never going to be able to be close to anyone. He's never going to be able to step out, to grow up, to find someone or something; as long as either I or the Dark Lord lives."

"So, we kill Voldemort," Lily said, fiercely. _Not you._

"Yes. We kill him," Regulus nodded, in agreement, before he indicated at the parchments; "And, after years and years of searching, we have finally found one – perhaps the only – way of doing so."

"And it just so happens to elevate you to grand savior of the Wizarding World?" Lily raised an eyebrow.

Regulus snickered, meeting her eyes and shaking his head; "It has to be me. I'm the only pureblood."

"Severus thinks Dumbledore has a way."

"If Dumbledore had a way it'd be done. And since when do _you_ trust Dumbledore?" Regulus eyed her, with a little twinkle in his eyes.

Lily gave him a smile; "So long as he can save the people that I care about from dying _needless_ , _heroically inspired_ deaths, I will follow him. As Severus insists."

She eyed the parchments about sentient horcruxes, and Blood Magic that Regulus had given her, reluctantly, before she nodded; "I'll look at them," she met his eyes, adding, warningly; "But I'm not promising anything."

Regulus gave her a smile, before he got to his feet.

"Alright. Are we going to do this, then?"

Lily got to her feet, glancing back at the house with a smile of her own, and nodded, and the two of them walked up to the door. Lily pressed her right hand upon it, holding out her left-hand which Regulus took in his, before he lifted his wand and spoke the incantation which would enact the Fidelius Charm.

It only took a minute, which was slightly longer than the last time, but it had been a few years since either of them had done this, and then Regulus let go of her hand, giving her a smile.

He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow:

"So. Where do I live?"

* * *

Lily's heart was heavy with the conversation for the rest of the day, barely even able to muster up a smile and the enthusiasm she usually did, while reading Grace her bedtime story when she tucked her in for the night.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," she whispered, pressing a kiss to her sleeping daughter's forehead.

She been home only four days and, already, the heaviness of the war and the choices that would have to be made – _more_ terrible choices – had made itself known.

She stepped into her room, opting to just go straight to bed – to sleep or to read the many feet of parchment that Regulus had given to her, she wasn't sure – and pulled her jumper over her head.

"Lily."

A hand upon her shoulder almost made her jump out of her skin with a shriek.

She turned, to find herself face to face with Severus.

Her eyes widened.

It took a moment – again – for her to be fully convinced that he was actually there and then she sighed and went into his arms.

Severus held her, tight, and she felt his lips press to her hair.

They drew back after a moment, their foreheads pressed together.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to make another appearance," Lily said, with a smile.

Severus' lips twitched; "I have been, somewhat, occupied. Though I have been here for some time."

She nodded, at the unspoken enquiry; "I was with Regulus. The Fidelius."

"Ah."

"I think you need to talk to him," Lily said, as she stepped over to sit on the bed. Severus followed, as she went on; "He has some…ideas, that he could probably do with your input on."

"I know what ideas he is having, Lily, and he can forget it. This is hardly the time for any of us to be going rogue and Regulus is far from thinking rationally right now. His head is in the clouds with his delusions of grandeur and I am not entertaining that."

"Oh, okay then," Lily said, eyeing him with a chuckle; "I'm sure he appreciates the support."

"He will get no support from me in his – literal – suicide mission," Severus said, taking a seat next to her; "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Lily assured him, with a smile; "Better for seeing you."

Severus took her hand, meeting her eyes.

"Regulus told me about the Trace."

Severus nodded.

"We need to get a handle on that," Lily said; "It could have been worse."

"It could still be worse," Severus corrected her; "The Dark Lord is well aware, now, that there is a traitor within his circle. That is not something that he is simply going to ignore. A trap will be set; for whom, remains to be seen."

Lily shook her head, closing her eyes, but she knew better than to ask any more – that Severus had revealed this much about what was going on within the circle was unusual, as it is – and she tugged him to lie down with her on the bed, resting her head upon his chest.

She felt the fingers of the arm he had around her training up and down her arm when he spoke; "Harry's occlumency is improving."

"It is?"

"Mhm. It would be best we continue the sessions over the course of the holidays. We do not want the progress made to become undone. Dumbledore oversaw the lessons throughout Easter –" Lily frowned but refrained from interrupting; "- but I may be able to find some time throughout the course of the summer to do so. In fact, I shall ensure it."

She lifted her head with a frown; "You want Harry to come back to Hogwarts over the summer?"

He shook his head; "That would draw too much suspicion. The Dark Lord would be more inclined to use his abilities to look into Harry's mind in those moments; and I do not know if my use of legillimency makes Harry more vulnerable to the Dark Lord's manipulations in those moments."

"You want to do the sessions _here_?"

Severus simply met her eyes.

Lily drew in a breath; "I assume you wouldn't want Grace to see you."

"That –" Severus cleared his throat; "That goes without saying. After…"

"Yes," she nodded, eyes on his shirt; "Well. Of course, it has to be done. Harry needs you."

And she certainly wasn't having Dumbledore anywhere near him, despite what she may have said to Regulus, earlier.

"We need to talk about Grace."

She met Severus' eyes at his statement.

"I _am_ sorry, Lily."

"I know," Lily said, her voice quiet; "I am, too. We…we knew that this would happen. We shouldn't have walked so blindly into it. We knew what we were going to have to do."

"I think the reality of it may prove harder than what either of us had expected."

"It must have, you," Lily said, looking at him, closely; "Having her so close to you all those months."

"Something that mustn't happen again," Severus said, not revealing his own – obvious – pain at the fact; "I do not believe the Orion suppression is quite as effective as Obliviation. We have…connected. Despite our encounters, thus far, having been brief."

"What happened?"

Severus related to her the events of it, the last time the two of them had seen one another.

"It was a memory?"

"Yes. The very encounter – step by step – was one that has taken place between us once – likely many times, come to think of it – before. And that triggered a memory. Not enough that she knows that it is me; but she knows, now, that she has a father with whom she has a bond. And she can speak of him. Which is hardly favourable; considering she now has a connection with _me_ and has known me by name."

"But if she is talking about her Daddy and Professor Snape as if they are two separate people –" Lily pointed out; "Who would think you were one and the same person?"

Severus gave a slight nod, of agreement, before he said; "She must never see me here."

Or again, the rest of his statement went unsaid.

Lily tightened her hold around his waist.

"What happened at New Year? With Harry?"

Severus drew in a breath.

"The Dark Lord used the mind link between them to send Harry a vision – a fabricated one – of Grace in danger. In order to lure him to the Foundation where he would entrap him. Regulus became caught up in it when I failed to ensure Harry had a guardian available to go to at the Castle should he need one."

Lily could easily pick up on the self-deprecation in his statement.

"It was Hogwarts. We've never had any reason to believe he wouldn't be safe there."

"Hm. Well. Unfortunately, it is beginning to be the case that he – and Malachi and Grace – are not safe, anywhere. Each of the places the recent incidents have taken place have been in places of safety; the Castle, the Foundation, Crail."

Lily turned her head into his neck, as the truth of it sunk in. That they were never safe; that they were failing, despite their best efforts, to protect their children from the war and all that that meant for them. It was just as Regulus had warned her about the year before; their children, they were seeing it all, now – the darkness that they had tried to shield them from – with their very own eyes.

They would know it.

Lily swallowed, tightening her hold on him.

"Stay tonight," she whispered.

Needing him.

Severus shifted, beneath her; "I should not. Grace –"

"We can lock the door."

The two of them lay there, still and silent, for a moment, as Severus contemplated the request.

And then she felt him shift again, tugging out his wand, and the door to the bedroom clicked in a locking charm.


	69. July 1995: For My Sins

"What time's your dad coming to get you?" Harry asked, leaning back against the tree that overlooked the lake.

"He said after lunch. You want him to take you?" Malachi asked him, from the spot on the glass he was lounged on next to Daphne, who was engrossed in reading the roll of parchment Malachi had given her a few minutes before.

"Nah. Uncle Remus is gonna take me. Just waiting on him saying bye to –" he indicated with a nod in the direction of the castle, where Remus could be seen talking away with Nymphadora Tonks, animatedly, seemingly nowhere near finishing up their conversation.

Malachi got a smirk; "Think there's a wedding coming up in your future, Harry. Better prepare a speech."

"Why'd I need a speech?"

"You'd obviously be the Best Man," Malachi said, as if it were obvious.

"Oh my gosh!" Daphne suddenly exclaimed, before Harry could answer him. She sat up, her eyes wide and her expression one of astonishment, as she clutched the parchment in her hand. Harry tried his best not to stare, glancing out at the lake, before back at her.

Daphne's eyes were all for Malachi; "You wrote this?"

Malachi had reddened and wasn't quite meeting her eyes, as he gave a shrug; "Is it bad?"

"Um. No," Daphne rolled her eyes, looking back at it and quickly skimming through it again, her previous astonishment giving way to one of delight – obviously very impressed with him – before she met Harry's eyes, making his stomach jump at the sudden eye contact; "Have you read this, Potter?"

Harry nodded; "Yeah. It's good. I told him, that."

"It's more than good," Daphne insisted, crossing her legs in front of her, turning her attention back to Malachi; "This is – uh – what's the word… _revolutionary_."

Malachi scoffed, blushing fully now as he shook his head; "It's just what I think, is all."

"Can I give it to my father?"

Malachi met her eyes, with a frown; "You think he'd print it?"

"Um, yeah," Daphne chuckled, saying it as if it were obvious; "But, I mean, only if you want him to. It's…" she eyed it, barely able to hold in her smile – which Harry had very rarely seen – as she went on; "It's very Pro-Muggle, Malachi. It's probably the most Pro-Muggle Anti-Statute thing I've ever read."

"Well. Good," Malachi shrugged; "It's supposed to be. Opposing the Statute doesn't mean we have to hate muggles. If anything, getting rid of it would bring us closer to them."

"Yeah, but it's something that's gonna ruffle a lot of feathers," she said, though she didn't seem too bothered about that; "It'd change some things. Well. _Everything_."

"Isn't your dad some big Anti-Statute propagator, anyway?" Harry pointed out; "Doesn't he have a ton of people writing stuff like this."

"Nothing any of my father's writers have ever written is anything like this," Daphne said, with certainty; "He'd love it."

"Does he like muggles?" Harry with a frown.

"No," Daphne scoffed, as if that were obvious, before she said; "But he doesn't shy away from things that make him think. And this would make people think," she turned her attention back to Malachi; "What do _you_ think?"

Malachi shrugged; "Well. Sure. If he wants to print it, yeah. I don't mind."

"It needs a title; you didn't write one."

"Oh, um…" Malachi frowned looking put on the spot; "I dunno. Our World? Or something. I'm not good at that sort of stuff."

"One World," Harry piped up, having read the paper, and both of them turned to look at him.

He raised an eyebrow, giving a shrug.

Malachi smiled, nodding; "Yeah. One World."

"One World," Daphne repeated, with a wide smile of her own - right at Harry, which made his stomach flutter and he looked away, _stop it!_ \- before she scribbled it down at the top of the parchment.

"Max E. MacLean," Daphne read the sign off, once she'd done; "Cute quillname."

Malachi got a little smile at – what Harry knew was – the nod to Emma and said nothing more.

"Alright, Max," Daphne said, rolling up the parchment and leaning down to Malachi with a grin; "Prepare yourself – for _infamy_."

She and Harry laughed, while Malachi rolled his eyes with a wry smile, clearly thinking the whole thing was no big deal, at all.

And then Malachi's eyes lit up when he caught sight of Mr. Black, coming out the doorway up ahead, and he grabbed his bag and got to his feet; "See you at the Foundation in a couple of weeks, alright?"

Malachi didn't wait for a reply, taking off in his father's direction.

Harry watched the scene from where he sat by the tree, at Mr. Black's wide smile and wide arms as Malachi reached him and Malachi rolled his eyes at first, with faux-reluctance, but then he smiled when he was hugged tight in his dad's arms.

Harry smiled at the obvious, unconcealed affection between the two of them as they drew back, Malachi saying something to Mr. Black that earned him a headlock and a hair ruffle, before they laughed and headed on their way.

Harry forced down that feeling of longing that rose up within him. The disappointment that he knew would surely follow if he lingered upon it; that he'd never have that.

"Must be nice, huh?"

Harry glanced in Daphne's direction, having forgotten that she was even there at all.

"What?" he asked.

Daphne's eyes were on Malachi and Mr. Black, as well, not looking at him when she answered.

"To have a father so willing to show you that he loves you. My father always said that Regulus Black was as Slytherin as they come."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. _You're_ a Slytherin."

Daphne got a wry smile.

"I don't think my father meant it as a compliment."

Harry didn't really know what to say to that, unsure if Daphne was expecting him to say something in support of her House or against it.

So, instead, he just said.

"Mr. Black's one of the best men I know."

Daphne met his eyes then.

She said nothing, simply looked at him.

And Harry felt himself blush – infuriatingly so – as he glanced away. He got to his feet, suddenly eager to leave, and nodded in the direction of Remus; "Think they're finished up, now –" Remus and Tonks looked nowhere near finishing up, "- Have a good summer, Greengrass."

"Yeah. You too, Potter."

* * *

"What do you think?"

Malachi eyed the new cottage his dad had picked for them.

He both longed for Crail – home – and was glad to not have to go back there.

This one was nice enough, he supposed.

There was water – Harry would like that – and there was lots of land, just for them, on the doorstep. He could see a few other houses, scattered in the distance, but there was a good half a mile between them and the nearest one – unless he used the boat, he supposed, that was apparently theirs down at the edge of the loch – and he gave his dad a smile.

"Yeah, it's nice, Dad."

"Disappointed, huh?"

"No," he shrugged; "Just…it's not…"

"Home?"

Malachi looked down, with a little frown.

"It's my own fault we lost it."

Lost _her_ , his mind whispered, quickly thinking of Emma.

Malachi quashed the thought, shaking his head, before he looked back up and forced a smile; "I love it."

His dad met his eyes, sharply, looking unimpressed at the act, and pointed at him.

"Don't do that."

Malachi's shoulders dropped and the smile along with it, as he crossed his arms across his chest, looking at the house, appraisingly; "It is nice, Dad. I'll get used to it."

His dad's hand went to his shoulder; "Son. It's alright to still be hurting."

Malachi felt a lump in his throat quickly rise, as if the permittance to feel pain for Emma's death had unleashed the gates he had shoved it all behind these past few months, and he looked down, determined he wouldn't cry about it, again. Not in front of anyone. Even if it was just his dad.

"There's…" his dad began, glancing out at the loch; "The Fidelius doesn't reach the whole radius. So that music thing you've got –" Malachi met his dad's eyes, getting a smile – a real one, this time – at his dad's obliviousness to the muggle world, "- it'll work down by the water, if you wanted to use it. And there's a little muggle village down the path – about a mile – we could go sometime if you want."

His dad got a grin, all of a sudden, and then he put _both_ hands on Malachi's shoulders, turning him so they were facing one another, fully; "In fact; if you want to make this summer just an entire muggle-world adventure fest, then I am all for that. Anything you want to do, we're gonna do it."

"That's dangerous, Dad. We should just be staying here."

"No. You've been locked up with me long enough."

Malachi looked at his dad, uneasy at the statement, as he realised he wasn't the only one going through something, right now.

"I'd rather be locked up with you, Dad, than anywhere. Alright?"

His dad got a smile that didn't reach his eyes – exactly the thing his dad had just scolded _him_ for – and he drew him in for a hug; "Where'd I be without you, hm?"

Suddenly, as he held his dad tight, Malachi wished he _had_ stayed after Easter. Not just for himself, but for his dad. He'd obviously needed him. And Malachi had been too wrapped up in his own pain to even notice.

Malachi wondered if he should tell his dad that he'd seen Julia – that she'd seemed happy until she'd thought of him, so she was obviously missing him – but he wasn't sure if that would make his dad happy or even more miserable than he was trying to pretend he wasn't.

So, Malachi kept quiet, drawing back with a smirk.

"Fine. If you want a muggle summer; you'll get one."

His dad chuckled, eyeing him with a grin; "That sounds like a threat, Son."

"Count on it."

His dad laughed, putting an arm around his shoulders, drawing him up towards the house.

* * *

"No magic _at all?"_ Harry could hear the disappointment in his sister's voice before he saw her.

"None at all, Sweetheart, those are the rules. You know that."

"But, it's just a little bit, Mummy."

Harry felt his heart sink a little, when he realized his mum must know, now, what had happened at Easter, and he felt his own surge of guilt at it all come back to him, as he pushed open the door into the living room.

Both his mum and Grace turned from where they were sat on the sofa, their eyes brightening when they noticed him.

"Oh, Sweetheart!" his mum was on her feet, coming to him to give him a hug and press a kiss to his cheek, giving him a smile when she drew back; "It's good to have you home."

"It's good to have _you_ home, Mum," Harry asserted, eyes going to Grace – who, usually always pounced upon him at his arrival home every holiday – and his sister shot him a bright smile and a wave.

"Hi Harry! I beat you coming home."

Harry chuckled; "So you did, Grace."

"Where's Uncle Remus?"

"Kitchen."

Grace jumped down from the couch, hurrying in that direction – stopping to give Harry a quick hug around the waist – and carrying on through.

The lack of the usually delighted reunion with his sister – not much need for one after just a few days, after all – was not the only thing that was jarring.

Harry hadn't been home since he'd left for Hogwarts the summer before.

Everything looked exactly the same.

Except, now, everything was so very _different_.

His mum's hand on his arm drew him from his thoughts; "Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Oh, um. Sure," Harry nodded, going to sit where Grace had just left with his mum.

His mum sat down, glancing in the direction of the door to the kitchen – almost uneasily – before she met his eyes and gave him a smile; "I heard your occlumency has been coming along well."

Harry nodded, immediately, to reassure her; "Yeah. Yeah – " he indicated back at the kitchen; "Snape's given me a bunch of stuff to work on; lots of 'brain enhancing exercises' –" he rolled his eyes, with a grin, " – to practice over the summer."

"Actually, Professor Snape…" she hesitated, then met his eyes; "Severus…"

Harry, despite knowing their history – and _present_ – couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling that rose within him at hearing her speak about the man with such familiarity.

"He hoped that you and he would be able to carry on your sessions throughout the holidays. Keep up the momentum the two of you have managed to build."

"Oh," Harry frowned in surprise; "I just saw him last night. He didn't say anything."

His mum nodded; "We thought it better that I talk to you about it first."

That made Harry feel even more uncomfortable. That his mum and Snape had actually sat and talked about _him._ Discussing between them what was 'better' for him, like … he hesitated in the thought ... like parents would.

Harry shifted, still with a little frown; "Why would it bother me now? I told him I'm serious about the lessons. And I don't mind if I have to see him over the holidays. We're…we're okay now. I think."

His mum smiled; "I'm glad to hear that." Her eyes went back in the direction of the door, before she went on; "Actually, the reason for some concern is that the lessons are going to have to take place here."

"Wait… _here_?"

Harry stared at her, baffled at the information.

"But…how could he come here? What about…"

Harry broke off, realizing now what the problem was. He glanced away.

"You want me to keep it a secret from Grace. He's going to be hiding from her."

His mum nodded; "Yes."

Harry shifted, leaning back on the sofa, and did his best not to cross his arms across his chest and sulk. Glowering at the floor, instead, seemed a bit less childish; even if he was now as irritated as he was uncomfortable. He was starting to find that being 'in on the game' with his mum and Snape was not quite the family picnic he had imagined in his head.

But, then, ignorance wasn't exactly a state of being to aspire to, he reminded himself, and he drew in a breath, to keep himself calm – counted, silently, in his head – and reminded himself what was at stake, what he was fighting for; all measures Snape, himself, had taught him to get a hold of his emotions.

And he met his mum's eyes, making to speak, but before he could his mum explained further.

"The Orion suppression hasn't been working in the way that we'd hoped," she said; "It seems that, if she and Severus –" Harry felt that strange discomfort rise again. "- find themselves in a situation, one in which they had previously found themselves in before, it is enough to trigger a memory. It happened at Hogwarts last week; she gave him a stone. It brought back a recollection of a moment shared between them in the past."

Harry nodded slowly, eyes on the floor, as he considered the information. Glad, at least, of the fact that his mum was willing to tell him that much; explain the reasons, this time, rather than just tell him what he was to do.

He met his mum's eyes, getting a little, humourless smile.

"And all Grace's memories of him are here. In this house."

His mum nodded, not holding his eyes for long, and Harry could sense it, then; a little bit of shame that roiled off of her, when she basically admitted that he and Grace had built an entire relationship within these very walls, right under his nose, without Harry even realizing it.

Well. Not for a _long_ while, at least.

Harry swallowed, nodding, not meeting her eyes either when he said quietly; "Okay."

"Okay?"

He met her eyes; "It's for Grace's own good, right? 'Course I will."

I _always_ would have, his mind added on, resentfully. Harry pushed the thought away.

His mum got a smile, but it was a sad one, rather than the warm, affectionate one's they'd shared since she'd awoken, and her hand came up to take his wrist; "Sweetheart. We never really talked. About what happened last year."

"You mean about what happened the last _seven_ years?" Harry met her eyes, guardedly; "I think I've got it pretty much figured out now, Mum."

His mum's eyes lowered, as if she wasn't quite sure what to say.

And Harry wasn't mad at her – he didn't want her to think he was still mad – so he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and she met his eyes with a look of surprise. Harry gave her a smile, before he got to his feet.

"I'm gonna go upstairs; haven't been in my room in a while."

His mum smiled, clearly touched by his gesture, and nodded; "Okay, Sweetheart."

Harry smiled, heading away.

He wasn't mad at his mum. He was just…disappointed. Like Snape was in _him_. As if he couldn't, really, trust her now, even if she hadn't really meant to hurt him.

Harry's eyes found the various parts of the room as he made his way to the staircase.

The fireplace and the nook by the window; the bookcase and the doors to the kitchen; the rug on the floor and the picture that hung by the door to the hall.

All home to him.

All home to _Snape_.

And it was just…bewildering, to know that Snape knew all this and had lived all of this, parallel to him, with his mum and with Grace.

He hurried on up to his room, knowing – _hoping –_ that that was a part of the house Snape _didn't_ know. That in there was a part of home that was just his, and his alone.

And Harry went into it, relieved to see it was exactly as he'd left it, at the beginning of the school year. And he got a little smile when he saw his pillow, torn in the back with feathers scattered all around the bed, the last memory that he had of Grace before she wasn't just his anymore.

And then he sighed, throwing himself down onto the bed, and wondered if the feeling that it had all been a lie was ever just going to go away.

* * *

The Death Eaters were still there.

Draco lay on his four-poster bed, staring up at the ceiling, surrounded by all the things any rich wizarding kid could possibly want.

He ignored the howls of agony that carried up from the basement. He hoped that it wasn't his father who was making someone scream like that.

His father had gone to Azkaban when he was seven.

Draco barely even remembered the man he had been before he'd been taken away. He was as stern as he was, now, he supposed. And he would often have Draco accompany him on various outings, as if he were parading his young heir out and about in society, making sure he was known to the world.

He knew his father was proud of him, simply for existing.

That, along with all the stories his mum had told him – assuring him that all of the negatives printed in the media were unfounded – had made Draco regret the loss of him; made him miss and wish for him to come back into their lives.

Well.

That was stupid.

Draco wished his father were still locked up in Azkaban.

The wails below intensified to unbearable shrieks. Draco rolled over, buried his face into his pillow and clamped his arm over his exposed ear, trying to block out the sound.

He knew his mother had asked that the basement be sound proofed with silencing charms, so that Draco wouldn't hear all of this. But the Dark Lord had refused – instead, raised his wand and made her scream the way the man below did now – and his father had been furious with her for even asking, telling her she would get herself killed and to do as he says. And he told Draco not to even think about casting a silencing charm upon his room, clearly picking up on his son's intentions.

His father loved his mum.

Draco could see it, the way they looked at one another, but it was marred with a glint, or, even, a darkness that still affected him, his time under the guard of the dementors clearly having driven him to the brink.

Draco had felt the effects of the dementors.

He didn't think he'd last seven years feeling like that.

He was ashamed, then, for wishing his father were still there.

The screaming abruptly stopped.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

Tried not to wonder if they were dead.

The house was deadly silent for a few minutes.

Blissful silence.

And then there was a knock at his door.

Draco quickly composed himself, getting to his feet and brushing down his clothing, straightening up as much as he could as the door pulled open; fearing it was his father.

It was his mum.

Draco relaxed.

She gave him a warm smile; "Are you well?"

He nodded; "Yeah. It's good to be home."

His mum eyed him, and he gave her a smirk, and she nodded, smiling, and looking down.

She reached a hand out to him, looking apologetic when she did; "He has asked for you."

Draco felt his stomach drop; "I've only been back an hour."

"I know. But the Dark Lord does not wait."

"I…"

His mum stepped towards him, her hands going to his shoulders, and she looked at him, with affection and reassurance in her gaze when she said, quietly; "I know that this is frightening. But I promise you, my darling, that if you just do as he asks, keep your head down – be a Slytherin –" the two of them smiled at one another; "- then everything is going to be fine."

Draco drew in a breath, nodding.

Before he said: "But. I don't know anything that he wants to hear. I don't know Harry Potter. We don't even speak."

"And your cousin?"

"Malachi? He's Potter's best friend; I don't speak to either of them."

"The Dark Lord has heard differently."

Draco scowled; "Well if he has others spying on them, then why do I have to? Mac's family isn't he? _You're_ the one who told me to look out for him when he started at school. Doesn't family loyalty mean anything to him?"

"Draco," his mum's voice was stern; "Do not ever question the wishes of the Dark Lord. He is our _Lord_."

Draco sighed, a breath that trembled, and he reluctantly followed her in the direction of the door.

The two of them were silent as they made their way through the house. As they passed all the masked Death Eaters that stood throughout the hallways, silently, following whatever orders the Dark Lord had given them.

It was a thing of nightmares.

Draco wondered, if he were a Gryffindor, would his hands tremble a bit less and would he feel brave, entirely fearless, as he made his way down to report his observations to the Dark Lord.

But Gryffindors were only fearless because they were stupid, he reminded himself, unaware of the value of actually considering the consequences of…well…anything.

And Draco was fairly certain the consequences of meeting the displeasure of the Dark Lord would mean either agony or _death_ ; for either himself, his family, or all of them.

He forced himself to straighten up. To be smart. Be a Slytherin, his mum had said, and play the game.

The door to the basement opened, far too soon, and he made his way inside, alone, his mum being held at the door outside.

His father eyed him with cool pride from his place at the Dark Lord's side as Draco made his way to the middle of the room.

Draco couldn't help it. He trembled as he stood before him – the Dark Lord - as his red eyes glinted as he eyed him where he stood.

"So. What information do you bring me of Harry Potter and Malachi Black?"

* * *

"How come you're not coming to the beach, Harry?" Grace asked, innocently, as she shrugged into her cardigan.

"I've got schoolwork to do, Grace. Boring stuff."

"Schoolwork? But it's summer!"

"I know. Blows, right?"

"Yes," Grace said, frowningly, her eyes going to their mum as she zipped up the bag they were taking; "You should write a letter to excuse him, Mummy. They made Harry do extra lessons at Easter, too."

"I'm sure Harry will be just fine, Sweetheart," his mum said, with a smile at his sister. She guided Grace in the direction of the door with a hand on her shoulder, meeting Harry's eyes as she did; "Right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, with a nod; "It'll be fine, Mum."

Harry was nervous, though, after they left. He was to just stay there and wait. Wait for Snape to come to his – their – house.

He had no clue how this whole thing was going to go. And he'd been nervous about it ever since his mum had first dropped the information on him, the second he'd come home. from school, that Snape would be carrying on his lessons here for the next few weeks. And he found he had both anticipated and dreaded that coming Wednesday in equal measure.

But Snape had postponed the first lesson they were due to have, the first week of the holidays.

And, then, again, the second. Both of them without explanation; just an order to carry on with what Snape had already supplied.

And, so, Harry had half-expected that this one, now two weeks into the summer holidays, would also be cancelled. But he'd had no word of it so far and it was past time, now, so he could only assume that meant that Snape was actually coming.

Harry sighed, impatiently, his eyes going to the timepiece. It was almost half three.

Snape was late.

Snape was _late._

The very idea of it seemed almost ludicrous.

The Potions Professor was not one who'd be late for anything – especially not by half an hour – and Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that if _he_ had dared to show up to this lesson half an hour later than instructed, Snape would have skinned him for it.

"Potter."

Harry spun round, shocked to find Snape already in the house, behind him.

Harry frowned, glancing between him and the kitchen door; "Um. Wha – how did you-?"

"I entered the premises through the basement. Are you ready?"

Harry realised Snape had probably done so a million times before. He probably already had a bunch of routes and plans for getting in and out of the house, unnoticed.

Harry wondered if he had ever done so, while _Harry_ was actually in the house. If he and his mum had ever been together, here, with him in just the other room.

He pushed the thought aside.

Thoughts like that entirely unhelpful, always, but especially right now.

He hurried to keep up when Snape didn't wait; the man turning swiftly on his heel and heading back down the stairs into the basement that he had just come up from.

"I trust you have been exercising the methods of calmness that I assigned to you prior to the holidays?" Snape said, before Harry had even reached the last step.

"Oh. Um…yeah," Harry nodded, as he came to stand in front of him – at a distance – taking in the man's appearance properly for the first time.

Harry hesitated.

Snape _did not_ look well.

He was pale, much paler than usual – almost completely white – and even in the dim lamp light of the basement Harry could see a little bead of sweat glean and slip from his temple down to his chin.

"Um. Are you alright?"

"Quite alright, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his tone clipped.

"You look really bad. Do you want me to get Mum –"

"I certainly do not."

"She's a _Healer_."

"And I am a Potions Master; I assure you, I am quite well and capable of tending myself should it be necessary," he drew his wand; "Now. That is enough of your stalling, Mr. Potter. We are running late as it is. Prepare yourself."

Harry scowled.

He wasn't stalling.

Snape looked like _death_ and anyone would be concerned, having someone show up on their doorstep looking like _that._

But with the man refusing to even entertain the idea of being tended to – and Harry certainly wasn't about to offer to do so _himself –_ Harry did as he was told and stood in the middle of the room, gripping his wand tight.

"I can use my own magic, right? It won't trigger the trace, like before?"

"You may use your magic. The Fidelius conceals all that happens within it."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

That quickly set Harry's mind going.

Snape picked up on those thoughts, instantly; "Do not even think about abusing that knowledge, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed, eyeing Snape with annoyance, and wondered if it was going to be like this all summer.

He had – foolishly – thought things might be a bit different between them, being in the house, but he supposed it was probably better it wasn't. It'd make it far easier, after all, lying to Grace about what he'd been doing if he really was just with ' _Professor Snape'_ in the basement other than the _'Severus'_ his mum had begun to refer to him as.

"Ready now?"

Snape's voice spoke, drawing Harry from his thoughts, and Harry quickly focused, clearing his mind, and he brought forth the barriers he knew to pull upon; pushed away all the dangerous memories he had back into their box.

" _Legillimens_!"

Memories flittered on by. Harmless ones. Ones of Malachi and Daphne and Grace and his mum; nothing that Voldemort didn't already know about him. He was slinging his arm around Malachi at the career fair; staring in amazement at Daphne as she'd dared raise her wand against a Slytherin; Grace was giggling as she clung tightly to his back as he giddy-uped around the living room with her upon it; he gave his mum a kiss on the cheek.

Snape lingered a while, pushing and prying, trying to get on further, and it took a good few minutes before he could – catching a memory Harry had tried to conceal – but it was a buffer memory, as Harry called it. One that he didn't want Voldemort to see but that didn't really matter if he did.

Snape withdrew, looking impressed – as impressed as he could while trying to remain upright, that is – and gave a nod; "Again."

They went again.

The cycle continued. Each time, Snape pushed a little harder. Each time, Harry was able to keep him at bay a little bit longer.

They went again.

And again.

Doing so, as the minutes ticked on, until more than an hour had passed. Perhaps they were even closer to two.

Snape showed no sign of stopping, seeming determined to make up the time for the lessons lost.

The man tried harder, as time went on, becoming a little bit more aggressive in his attempts to break through; still, Harry's barriers held. But he was growing weary, now, under the strain.

Harry was pretty sure they _both_ were, as Snape's posture seemed to wilt even further.

"Good," Snape said, finally satisfied; "Good."

It was difficult not to puff up at the – unexpected – praise.

"There is almost no trace of you attempting to exercise occlumency. But it is not entirely absent, as it must be. The Dark Lord must not know you are utilising it; if he does, he will know to keep looking."

"Alright. So, I've got to be…even more subtle?"

"Try not to exercise the magic quite so obviously; keep your memories flowing smoothly. Do not give any indication that you are aware of what he is trying to do. And be aware of your body language. You must remain relaxed, calm."

"Well, I won't exactly be calm and relaxed if Vold – if _he_ is standing in front of me, looking through my head, will I?"

"Who is giving the lesson, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shut up.

Normally – granted, their more recent normal – he'd maybe offer up a comment, give him some sass, but Snape looked ready to collapse where he stood now and Harry was becoming more and more alarmed by the minute.

The little bead of sweat was no longer a bead; the man's entire forehead, his face, even, gleamed in a light sheen of sweat and, now and again, his breaths would come out in little puffs.

His mum would be pretty angry, he imagined, if she came home and found Snape dead and Harry hadn't thought to get him to St Mungo's or something.

"Now. Shall we try it?" Snape said. Despite the obvious weakness of his body, Snape's _voice_ was as collected as it always was. Maybe Snape didn't realise how bad he was. Maybe he was delirious?

Snape looked back at him, coolly, suddenly looking much more composed – stronger, even – when Harry made no move to prepare himself.

Harry sighed, doing as he was asked, and within a few seconds Snape was back in his head.

Harry remained calm. He wondered if the reason he was doing so well was because Snape was so weak, right now. He wasn't sure how the powers of legillimency worked. If Snape needed to be at full physical strength to go into people's heads, the way you should be to keep people out.

Memories from his childhood flitted on by. Sirius was there, laughing and giving him a hug, and Harry – against the rules – held onto that one, a little, before it faded, Sirius' face easily morphing into Malachi's similar, much younger one and Harry was showing him his Hogwarts letter in excitement. He liked that memory, too.

Harry forced himself to focus and he pushed back, knowing better than to allow himself to get lost in the warm memories. That was a tactic Voldemort would deploy, Snape had warned him, to encourage him to let down his guard.

Harry flicked his wand. It wasn't against the rules, but Harry hadn't used it much during the sessions, always opting for control and mind balance, as Snape had encouraged him to do. And when he did change tact, using his wand and magic for defence, he was suddenly – expectedly – thrown into other, far _darker_ memories that were not his own.

There was darkness and glinting red eyes and yowls of agony _._

It only lasted a second before he was out.

Harry was startled as he found himself staring back at Snape. It had only happened a handful of times – less than a handful – but that was enough for him to know what he had seen and realise what Snape had endured at Voldemort's hand. Probably this very day, before this lesson, if the state of him were anything to go by.

Harry almost shuddered, unable to shake the unease that had risen at the sounds of his agony; almost unhuman. Harry didn't know a person could sound like that.

Harry had had enough, lowering his wand and finally voicing his concern more forcefully.

"I think you need to rest, Sir."

"That's enough, Potter," Snape snapped; "I was off my guard, that is all."

Snape reached up, wiping a hand across his forehead, and he rolled his eyes when he noticed the sweat that then sheened upon it.

"There's handkerchiefs in the –"

Snape was already going to the cabinet Harry was going to indicate, the drawer open and one of said handkerchiefs in his hand, rubbing impatiently at his face, before Harry had finished the sentence.

Harry frowned, watching him, before his eyes slowly moved around the room, taking in everything that was in it; for the first time, really looking at all of it.

There were phials and bottles and jars of potion ingredients everywhere. Books packed into every nook and cranny of the cabinets and the bookshelves at the other side of the room. There was a smaller cabinet, next to the bookcase, that Harry knew housed two small cauldrons and brewing supplies. And there was a workbench, in the further corner, that was never used.

At least, not as long as Harry was in the house, he realised.

Harry's eyes went to Snape, who was folding and tucking the handkerchief – one of his _own_ handkerchiefs – into his pocket. He was looking slightly less sickly, now that he'd wiped away the sheen of sweat that had built up and glistened upon his brow.

"This is your room," Harry found himself saying.

Snape met his eyes, wearily; "I beg your pardon?"

"The basement – this basement – it's yours. All this stuff."

Snape eyed the room, before he met Harry's eyes, neither confirming nor denying it. Not that there was much need to. It was obvious, now. Harry had never really wondered why they had all this stuff – his mum was a researcher, after all – and it had always just been here.

Before either of them could say any more, the door slammed overhead and the sound of footsteps, followed by the laughs and voices of his mum and his sister filled the quiet.

Harry's eyes were on the ceiling at their return and, when he looked back down at Snape, he saw that his were, too.

"Should we cast a silencing charm?" Harry asked, almost in a whisper, when Snape made no move to do anything.

Snape shook his head, the slightest turn from side to side; "No. We have gone on long enough, today. I shall return this weekend. Saturday afternoon. I will contact your mother with the set time."

Harry nodded; "Okay. Um…"

Snape still looked awful and Harry didn't really want to leave him like _this._

"Do you…do you have to go back now? To him?"

Snape met his eyes, guardedly.

Harry simply held his look, fully convinced that if Snape said he was on his way back to Voldemort's side to spend the rest of the afternoon in excruciating torment then he'd just have to march upstairs, right now, and bring his mum down here to talk some sense into him.

"No," Snape finally said, and Harry wasn't sure if he was lying; "I am to return to Hogwarts."

"Oh. Hogwarts? I didn't know that teachers stayed there over the holidays."

"Where else would I be, Mr. Potter?"

Harry held his look for a moment before giving a small nod.

It wasn't as if Snape could go – come – home, after all.

"Well. Alright. Make sure you see Madam Pomfrey or something –"

"As I said, Mr. Potter, I am quite capable of tending to my own needs. Now." He nodded in the direction of the stairs; "I have given you a dismissal."

"This isn't school. It's home."

"And you are to follow my direction in both."

Harry kept his eyes on him, still hesitant, but when Snape's eyes narrowed and his lips moved – a lecture, obviously imminent, at his impertinence – Harry sighed and turned, heading on his way up the stairs. He glanced back, keeping his eyes on Snape, who had moved towards the exit, and Harry headed on further up the staircase out of sight.

He waited a moment.

And then he crept carefully back down a couple of steps, peering through the little gap where the wall met the bannister; and, when he did, he saw Snape slowly make his way back further into the room – after he was convinced Harry had gone – and gingerly lower himself into the chair by the workbench, with a shudder.

Harry drew back and, as silently as he possibly could, made his way up the rest of the stairs and out into the kitchen.

He hurried into the living room, where he could hear his mum and Grace's voices.

His mum met his eyes, getting a smile when she noticed him; "How did it go, Sweetheart?"

"Mum," Harry's voice was a whisper, as he hurried over to her – casting a cautious eye Grace's way, as he did, to ensure she wasn't paying any attention – before he went on, still whispering; "I think you need to go down to the basement."

His mum immediately looked concerned; "What's the matter?"

"It's…I think he's really hurt," he whispered.

His mum's concern seemed to amply tenfold at the statement, and she glanced quickly in Grace's direction; "Can you –"

"Yeah. Yeah, Grace," he called his sister over; "You wanna come upstairs?" His mum was already heading away, back in the direction of the kitchen.

"Why?" Grace asked him, suspiciously, as she approached.

"I've got something to show you. A surprise."

Grace's eyes lit up; "A surprise? What is it?"

Harry got a little smirk and he leaned down, nose to nose with her; "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

Grace got a little grin.

And then she hurried on past him, in the directions of the stairs – and he had twenty seconds to come up with a good enough surprise to placate her – as he followed on her heels, his own eyes going in the direction of the kitchen and the basement, where he'd just left Snape.

Severus accioed the phial he needed – a second dose, the first being taken upon his surreptitious arrival – from the cabinet and downed the potion in one swig. He drew in a breath, letting his head lean against the back of the chair, giving the concoction a chance to work before he made his way back to the Dark Lord's side, having lied to the boy to spare himself the – further – headache of having to engage in a debate about the matter with him.

"Severus?"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Lily's voice.

He cursed his own foolishness. That could have been Grace.

Severus started to get to his feet but Lily was swiftly at his side, her hand on his arm keeping him still, as she knelt beside him; "Are you alright?"

Severus met her eyes.

Her eyes were full of concern and love but that wasn't enough to whittle away his annoyance at Harry's fussing.

"Harry sent you."

"Yes. He's worried about you," Lily said, immediately, before she glanced over him; "And he isn't the only one. You look like shite, Severus."

Severus met her eyes, giving her a wry look; "I have to admit that after two weeks apart, I had expected a warmer welcome."

The concern in Lily's expression dimmed, somewhat, to allow a softness to join it, and she gave him a smile, reaching up to caress his cheek; "Is it the Cruciatus?"

"Lily."

"Have you taken –"

"I have taken all that I can and need to. It will pass. You know how it is."

"Yes. I do. You should have cancelled this session."

"I have already cancelled two. Harry's progress is at risk if I cannot maintain these arrangements."

Lily looked thoughtful, before she look at him again with concern; "Severus, if these added responsibilities are too much for you, then…I mean, didn't you say Dumbledore was able to take over the lessons throughout Easter?"

Well. That was a surprise. He must look particularly ghastly if Lily was willing to hand Harry over to Dumbledore's disposal for any length of time.

"The Headmaster is otherwise engaged, these holidays," Severus said, beginning to feel the second dose of the potion he had taken kick in, and he straightened up; "I can handle it, Lily."

"Engaged with what?"

Severus shot her a look at the forbidden question.

Lily rolled her eyes, giving a nod, before her eyes met his; "Are you sure you're –"

"I am recovered," he announced, getting to his feet, his brew doing the job nicely – enough, at least, to get him back to the Manor – and Lily stood before him.

At the continuing concern and affection in her eyes – that he could no longer be unmoved by, now that he was not feeling quite so exposed and ratty – he touched his forehead to hers; "I shall see you soon."

Lily got a smile.

He pressed his lips for her forehead, before slipping by her, accioing some phials from the shelves and shoving them into his robes as he did – his alibi for the Dark Lord when he returned – and headed from the house.

* * *

The muggle summer his son had promised had turned out to be quite the experience.

Thus far, Regulus and Malachi had ridden every rollercoaster at the largest muggle amusement park in Europe. They had eaten every flavour of cake at the nearby bakery. They'd gone water-skiing. Flown a plane. Jumped out of said plane wearing a flimsy piece of fabric – a parachute, they called it – once, and never, _ever_ again.

They'd gone to every old muggle style car show that they could track down. And, feeling inspired, they'd _bought_ a car; immediately crashed said car when he couldn't get it out of reverse; and obliviated the police officers who'd attempted to arrest him.

They'd gone to Paris for the day to try the wine.

And then to Berlin to try the beer.

And to the Alps to try their luck on the slopes. In fact, on the latter experience, Regulus thought he just might have found his calling. He was a natural at skiing – they both were – and they'd be back, if survival chances allowed it.

And then he'd stuck in a stopover in Talloires, along Annecy Lake, remembering Julia had told him she'd grown up there and they'd eaten pastries on a terrace while he had imagined her there in her youth; as bright and vivacious as she was now.

All in all, a success.

Three weeks in.

Several more – but perhaps not quite enough – to go.

And Malachi still had a list as long as his arm of all the muggle things he wanted them to do before he went back to Hogwarts in September.

Regulus was determined to make this summer the time of his son's life.

And he was finding that, actually, he was having the time of his own life, too. And the heaviness in his heart had gradually lifted, as he realised just how much his son would be able to _live_ even once he was gone.

Regulus couldn't help thinking as his son lit up more and more as the days went on - their laughter and their smiles and their jokes coming easily to both of them – that his son was simply made for life. For exploring and questioning and _doing_. And he was glad he'd finally let him – them – out to try it all on for a little while, while they could still do it all together.

"Beer, Sir?" the girl behind the stall shouted to him, over the din of the music that blared in the background of the music festival Malachi had picked for them, next.

"Yes, two, Sweetheart," Regulus agreed.

She handed them over with a smile and a wink, and Regulus gave her a little grin in turn as he handed over the muggle money, taking them and finding Malachi in the crowd.

"Here."

Malachi took it, taking a drink and screwing up his face.

Regulus laughed, drinking his own; "I think I prefer butterbeer."

"Me too," Malachi agreed, pouring his out, and chucking the plastic cup away as he'd seen the others in the crowd doing, while Regulus shot him a disapproving look.

But Malachi didn't notice. His eyes were all for the performers wailing up on the stage – what an absolute _racket –_ and his son was obviously enjoying it, the music, and Regulus took another gulp of the beer he held as he grinned at his son's enthusiasm.

They carried on that way for hours, from first thing in the morning until the darkness started to fall, and Malachi was entirely engrossed in the entertainment while Regulus easily picked up conversation with the muggles who happened to come and go at their side.

"Where's your tent?" the most recent one, a girl – she was surely only a teenager – asked him, with a coy smile and a flick of her hair.

"Um," Regulus gave a little laugh, shaking his head; "I don't –"

"Oh, I have a friend," she indicated in the direction of a group a few feet away, where several other teenage girls where lying sprawled out on a blanket smoking some rather suspect smelling stuff; "A few actually. For your brother."

"My brother," Regulus laughed, fully now, nodding.

He glanced Malachi's way.

Malachi was eyeing the girl, with a little bit more interest than he'd shown any of the _many_ others who'd been eyeing his son up for the past three weeks wherever they went, and Regulus rolled his eyes and got a wry smile, shaking his head at her; "Sorry, Sweetheart. We're taken."

The girl looked mildly disappointed, giving them both a flirtatious smile; "Well. If you change your mind, we're in the third row from the loos."

"Third from the loos. We'll keep that in mind."

Malachi shook his head, rolling his eyes, and dug his elbow into Regulus' side with a snicker.

Regulus flung an arm around his shoulders when the girl had gone, ruffling his hair with his nose; "Hear that, Son. Apparently, I look young and dashing enough to be your big brother."

"Maybe I just look older and distinctive, Dad. Or maybe it was a joke; a bet. Who can bag the granddad."

Regulus snorted with laughter, giving him a shove, while Malachi grinned, proudly, at his own joke.

"What's next up?" Regulus asked.

"There's still another day here, the ticket says the weekend."

"Son," Regulus put his hand on Malachi's shoulder, meeting his son's twinkling eyes; "I am begging you. Do not put me through another day of this."

Malachi smile with bright, his shoulders shaking with laughter; "Too much for you, Dad?"

"It's _awful_ ," Regulus eyed the stage, where the singer was still screeching; "I much prefer the car shows, I must admit."

"Well, that's because you're old, Dad," Malachi said with a grin.

Regulus gave the shoulder he held a shove with a smirk.

Mind you, he certainly _felt_ decades older than his thirty-three years.

"Come on," Malachi took pity on him, indicating that they leave; "Wanna go to that open-air cinema I was telling you about?"

"What's that?"

"The pictures, remember? I told you about them a couple of days ago."

"How about tomorrow? I need my bed, Son. Like you said, I'm old and frail."

"Maybe the next day, then. I have to go to the Foundation tomorrow, to see Harry."

Regulus lifted his chin in a nod, remembering the arrangement.

"Think he could come with us to that festival?" Malachi asked, hopefully; "I'll get him to ask his mum if he can stay next weekend."

"I don't think so, Son."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Well, because…"

Malachi got a smirk; "Because his mum wouldn't approve? Mrs Potter's gonna be thinking you're a bad influence, when I tell him all the stuff we've been doing."

"Oh, I know," Regulus grinned, as he slung his arm around his shoulders; "Hate to break it to you, Son, but that's something the world already knows."

"This has been great," Malachi said, more sincerely, as he looked at him; "Thanks, Dad."

Regulus smiled, drawing him close and speaking into his ear.

"Don't thank me yet."

Malachi got a grin at the promise of more to come. But it faltered a little, this time.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? Really?"

Regulus swallowed, keeping his eyes ahead as they carried on, making their way to the edge of the field where they could disapparate; "Never better, Son."

"I know something's wrong. Tell me."

"Nothing's wrong, Malachi," Regulus tightened his arm around him, with a smile; "I've got my boy home and he's laughing. All is right in the world."

Malachi looked unconvinced and Regulus could sense all the progress of these weeks of delight beginning to unravel, so he stopped, turning Malachi to face him.

"There's a war," he said, simply; "It weighs. But not on you. Alright?"

Malachi's eyes flicked between each of his before he gave a little nod.

Regulus leaned in closer, giving him a smile; "And not on _either_ of us. Not this summer. So, you keep making that list."

Malachi drew in a breath, not smiling back this time.

"It's just…it kinda feels like you're trying to squeeze all this stuff in," Malachi said, looking at him, uncertainly; "Like…you think we're not gonna have any other time to do it."

Regulus shook his head, quickly; "No. Don't think like that."

"I _don't_ think that, Dad. I'm just worried that you do."

Regulus reached up, squeezing his shoulder with a small smile; "Every minute counts, Son. That's all. And I've always told you; live for the moment. Not the future."

"Because there's no future."

"Well, I've never said _that_."

Malachi got a little smile, then.

And Regulus titled his chin forward, giving him a smile in turn; "I promise you, Malachi. You're going to have an _amazing_ future."

Malachi made to speak – and Regulus had a pretty good idea of what it is he was going to say – so he went on.

"But we don't live in that. So. With that in mind; you keep making that list."

Malachi didn't seem entirely convinced - or satisfied – with his answer, but his son sighed and nodded, seeming to realise he wasn't going to get anything more from him right now.

And Regulus took it, the little reprieve, knowing nothing good could come of lingering on the subject further, and he indicated with his head.

"Come on. Come to think of it, I could just do with a trip down to that picture place you were talking about."

"Yeah?" Malachi got a smile.

Regulus smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah."

"It's in London."

"To London it is."

* * *

Snape was late, again, to the next session.

But he didn't look like he was going to just drop dead on him at any given second this time, so that was a good thing.

And the lesson went well. Better, even, than the last one now that Harry wasn't concerned with the worry that he was going to have to explain to his mum why he hadn't gone to get her, immediately, to come tend to her dying…Severus.

So, Harry guessed it _wasn't_ just that Snape had been too weak to break into his mind the week before. He really was able to do it; occlumency.

He could keep the secret – any secret – he could protect Grace and he could keep Voldemort out of his head.

He hoped.

"Do not get over-confident, Mr. Potter," Snape said, as if reading his thoughts; "Arrogance and pride, they can be used against you just as well as weakness of mind."

"Right. Okay," Harry nodded, glancing surreptitiously – he hoped – in the direction of the timepiece.

Snape caught the look, immediately.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter. Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"

Harry shook his head; "No."

Snape eyed him.

"I mean. Well. I was supposed to be meeting Malachi at the Foundation."

"I see."

"It's fine, his dad's probably with him. He won't miss me."

"No. Go. It was I who rescheduled this session at the last moment."

Harry was surprised.

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes. Go."

Snape turned away from him, going to the – his own – cabinet, and pulling out some phials.

"I shall return the same time next week. Wednesday."

"Alright."

Harry didn't move from where he was standing. Unable to help but worry that him running off to meet Malachi would mean that Snape would have to return sooner – spend _longer –_ with Voldemort, now, without the excuse to remain around here.

Not that Snape would have used this as his reasons for his absence, obviously.

Snape met his eyes when he noticed Harry hadn't moved.

"Mr. Potter. Do not keep your friend waiting."

"Is it really bad? Wherever you have to go?"

"It is as one would expect. And you know better than to ask as such."

When Harry didn't make any more to leave, Snape sighed, almost – but not quite – rolling his eyes.

"As you see, I am entirely fit and well, Mr. Potter, which I concede was perhaps not the case upon my first visit. Let me assure you, that such instances are not a frequent occurrence."

"They're not?"

"Certainly not."

Harry wasn't sure if that was the truth. He doubted it. But, then, Snape had never turned up to any lessons at school looking like that before. And, as far as Harry could remember, he'd never been absent from any classes during term time, either.

So, Harry guessed it must – might – be true.

Or, maybe, outside of the watchful eye of Dumbledore, Snape was just more vulnerable to _interrogation_ during the holidays than he was during the school sessions. The much more likely explanation.

Harry found himself, unwittingly, wishing the summer were close to over upon the realisation.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry met his eyes.

"Mr. Black is waiting."

Harry nodded, finally accepting the dismissal, and he turned and headed on up the stairs.

They'd cast a silencing charm this time, when his mum had been detained from taking Grace out for the afternoon upon Julia's unexpected arrival at the door, less than ten minutes before they'd been about to leave, and the three of them were still in the kitchen when Harry made his way out the door.

"I still need to head down to the airport, get a ticket," Julia was saying.

"The airport?" Grace perked up, excitedly; "You're gonna fly, like, in one of those metal machines?"

"A plane. Yep. It's easier, believe it or not, going by muggle."

Grace immediately started drawing a picture of a plane on the parchment she had been doodling on; as best she could from memory of the picture books their mum had shown them.

Harry hurried on by, with another glance at the timepiece; "Mum, I've gotta get to the Foundation, alright?"

His mum gave him a smile and nodded, already knowing the arrangement, as Harry went to get the floo power from the cupboard next to where Julia was standing.

"When do you leave, Julia?" he asked her.

"Whenever there's a spot on the plane. The program starts on the 3rd. So, probably in the next couple of days."

"You should stick around for the 31st – aw, the jar's almost empty, Mum," he put the empty jar down on the counter, trying not to act as impatiently as he felt, as his mum got up and headed back down to the basement where the rest of the batch was locked up.

"I've got people coming," Harry went on, to Julia, with a shrug; "Y'know, for my birthday."

"Your mum doing a party?"

"Well. Not a party. It'll just be Uncle Remus and Ron and Hermione. I think Uncle Remus might be bringing someone, actually – "

"Remus is seeing someone?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned at her surprise; "You don't wanna miss that. And obviously Malachi's gonna be there."

Julia lifted the mug of coffee she was holding to her lips, taking a sip and not really meeting his eyes.

"So. Yeah. I guess it's a party," Harry conceded, before he grinned; "And a party's not a party without you, Julia."

Julia met his eyes, then, getting a little grin of her own in turn.

"How can I say no to that, hm?"

"Great," Harry's smiled widened, and he straightened, eagerly, when his mum returned with the power. He tried not to dwell - or even think at all - on the fact that his mum's cheeks were, now, a little flushed, and her lips pinker and fuller than they had been before she'd left.

"Well. I'll see you next week then," he said to Julia as he held out the jar, helping his mum fill it; "It'll be, like, a goodbye kind of thing for you, as well."

Julia gave him a fond little smile; "See you then, Kid."

Harry hurried on through to the living room, to the fireplace.

* * *

"He let you drink _beer?"_

Harry was astounded, both by all the things Malachi was telling him he and his dad had been up to for the past three weeks and, also, how _happy_ Malachi seemed to be. A massive difference from the friend that had been with him at Hogwarts the past few months.

"It's disgusting, Harry," Malachi shook his head, screwing up his face; "Wine's better. But even that's still gross."

"Better than firewhiskey?"

"Nah. Firewhiskey's better than both of them."

Harry found that hard to believe, remembering the burn of the glass they'd nabbed and shared at Christmas, and he asked, eagerly; "You think I could come next time?"

"Nah. Dad thinks your mum would gut him for it. He said you could come and stay, though, whenever you want. Just we'd have to stick to fishing or maybe a Quidditch game, if he thinks it's safe enough."

Both options sounded awfully dull in comparison to all the cool things Malachi and his dad had been doing. Still. Even those beat the mundane everyday monotony of the house, waiting for his – relatively infrequent -occlumency lessons and waiting for his – even more infrequent – meet ups with Malachi at the Foundation.

"Yeah. I'll come stay a few nights. Just let me know when you're not doing anything. If the two of you are _ever_ not doing anything."

"I think he thinks he's gonna get caught," Malachi said, looking a bit less thrilled, now, by the whole experience as he said it; "It's kind of like…he's trying to say goodbye. Give me something to remember him by or something. I…I'm worried about him. He's taken risks before but not like this."

"It's the muggle world, right? He probably just wants to cheer you up. After…"

"Yeah, I guess," Malachi shrugged, but he still looked thoughtful.

"Hey!" Daphne suddenly appeared round the corner, finding them where they were sitting at the table in the Research Centre, and she pulled up a chair, sitting down next to them, looking excited.

Harry had barely managed to conceal his approval, when Malachi had revealed on Harry's late arrival that he'd just sent a message to invite Daphne along, instead when - thirty minutes into the forty minutes that Harry was late to appear - Harry hadn't turned up. And Malachi had barely managed to conceal _his_ amusement at Harry's approval.

"Hey, Daphne," Malachi smiled at her.

Harry gave her a nod and a smile, when she met his eyes, before she quickly thrust a small leather pouch filled to bursting into Malachi's hands.

"What's this?" Malachi frowned, tugging at the string, and when he did it several galleons fell out onto the table and, even then, the pouch was still packed full.

Harry's eyes widened at all the money.

"What is this?" Malachi looked at Daphne with a frown, holding the pouch back in her direction.

"Payment. My father loved your article – the sales are through the roof! – He wants you to write more for him. Could you do it? He'll pay you whatever you want."

"Um, he…he doesn't need to _pay_ me," Malachi stared down at the pouch of galleons in bewilderment, as if he'd never seen money before in his life – though, obviously, he had plenty of it – and he shook his head, making to hand it back to her.

"Don't be silly. It's work, and good work that's worth being paid for, at that," Daphne insisted; "But what do you think? Could you write something else? Something like what you said before?"

"I…uh. I dunno. I kinda thought I'd already said everything."

"Really? There's nothing else you can think about? What about more muggle stuff; how they're not so different. You've been around them a bit, haven't you?"

Malachi was hesitant.

Harry grinned.

Malachi and his dad had been around muggles _a lot_ the past few weeks.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah, I guess I could think of something," Malachi said, with a shrug, eyeing the money again, uncertainly.

"Great," Daphne beamed at him – and Harry liked her like this, smiling and not so stuffed up – and she went on; "He'd need it the beginning of next week though. Is that too soon?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably. I could write it but I'll be away with my dad this weekend. And I've got…something on Monday," Malachi looked apologetic, not elaborating on the fact the thing on Monday was Harry's birthday.

"Oh. It's fine," Harry shrugged; "You can come."

"Come where?" Daphne frowned, looking confused.

"My mum's doing a thing," Harry said; "It's my birthday on Monday."

"Oh," Daphne looked surprised at the invitation; "Really? I thought you were, y'know, underground or something. Like Mac."

"It's fine. Your dad could bring her, couldn't he?" Harry said, looking in Malachi direction.

Malachi was looking back at him with the same ' _what?'_ look that Daphne was giving him. But he obviously wouldn't point out right in front of Daphne that only their most trusted got to know where they lived – and Harry had, basically, just blurted out that Regulus Black was their Secret Keeper – and he realized, then, that he had stupidly, impulsively, just issued an invitation to his home for his birthday to Daphne Greengrass –

Why again?

"Sure. Meet us here at twelve," Malachi said to her, with a smile, not willing to be the one to plunge them into awkwardness and suggest that she couldn't be trusted in Harry's home; "My dad will take us. I'll have something written for you."

Daphne met Harry's eyes and he smiled, rather than withdrawing the invitation and coming up with an excuse – as he should – and she gave him a little smile back.

"Sure. Okay. It's gonna be filled with Gryffindors, right?"

"Just Hermione and Ron," he said. The only other two of his friends who knew. Harry felt more reassured, remembering that; it wasn't _that_ big a deal. His mum had allowed him to have friends over before.

"Sounds fun," she said, casting a smile Malachi's way.

Harry wasn't sure if she meant it.

Still, he couldn't help that treacherous little flutter in his stomach, telling him that, actually, he wasn't really all that sorry he'd accidentally invited her.

And he ignored Malachi's little smirks for the rest of the afternoon.


	70. July 1995: One More Night

"Dad! Are you ready? We're gonna be late!"

Malachi pushed the door to his dad's room open, finding it empty, and went inside, glancing impatiently at the timepiece as he did so.

It was already after twelve and with having to pick up Daphne as well – now that Harry's crush had seemed to drive all common sense out of the window – they were going to be more than just a little bit late to get to the party.

Malachi tucked the little present he'd gotten for him into his pocket, eyeing the room warily when he didn't find his dad in either the closest or the bathroom, half-expecting him to jump out at him dressed up as a dementor or something – it wouldn't be the first time – and his eyes caught sight of the rolls of parchments – the official kind – that had been lain aside on his dad's bedside table.

Malachi went over, lifting it, curious but without much thought, really. And it wasn't until he read the top few lines that he realised – going cold as he did – what it was he was holding.

A Bequeathment Notice.

His _dad's_ Bequeathment Notice.

Malachi eyed it, eyes skimming and darting from sentence to sentence, barely able to really take any of it in, what with the way his mind raced at the discovery.

… _I hearby nominate Lily Potter as my Personal Representative to administer this Last Will and Testament…I bequeath and devise to my son, Malachi Regulus Black, all my estate and property be that real, personal or business, including, but not limited to, the Aurelius Foundation in its entirety…lest twenty percent of my personal fortune to be divided in equal shares amongst the following nominated persons; Nymphadora Tonks, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter and Grace Potter…In the event of my death, as sole parent I appoint the aforementioned Personal Representative, Lily Potter, as sole guardian of Malachi Regulus Black…"_

Malachi dropped it back onto the table, feeling sick and stepping away as if burned – he _was_ burned – by it; the confirmation that what he'd been thinking, fearing, for the past few weeks was right; that his dad was, basically, just getting his affairs in order in the event of his death.

"Malachi? You up here?"

Malachi hurried away from the bed, pretending he'd never seen it – not wanting to talk or even _think_ about it – and he met his dad's eyes when he came to the door.

"Aren't you ready? I've been waiting outside."

"Sorry. I…I was getting Harry's present," Malachi brushed by him; "Let's go."

Malachi forced himself to smile and laugh along with his dad's jokes, as they made their way to collect Daphne. The little thoughts flitting on by in his mind, shoved aside behind smiles and jokes of his own – he was getting better at that – until eventually struck by the big one, the stark truth, that had Severus not been involved with Mrs. Potter his dad wouldn't have had any name to write down on the notice to take care of his affairs or _him_ , at all.

And it was with a pang and a glance in his dad's direction, that he realised just how alone in the world his dad actually was.

Daphne was waiting.

There was a polite silence – smiles and jokes coming to an end – all the way from the Foundation to Harry's.

Neither she nor his dad seeming much inclined, upon their introduction, to acknowledge the fact that his dad knew and despised her father and, in lieu of mentioning it, the three of them had made their way there in relative awkwardness, as if none could think of anything to fill to quiet– odd for his dad, under all circumstances – until they finally reached Harry's and headed on through the door.

"Mrs. Potter said you can stay if you want," Malachi told him, as he shrugged out of his outer robe, hoping he _would_ stay and be with people rather than by himself; "There's gonna be food and games and stuff. People you know. Dora will be here."

"Dora?" his dad frowned, closing the door behind them; "Why would Dora come to Harry's birthday?"

"Didn't Mrs. Potter have you write down the address last week? Well. Yeah. That was for Dora. She'll be Professor Lupin's date."

"His _date?"_

Malachi snickered at the look on his dad's face.

"Yeah. They were at it all term."

"At it. Hm," his dad raised his eyes to the ceiling, before he put a hand on Malachi's shoulder, bending the few inches down to his eye level; "You do have a way with words, Son."

The door to the living room swung open, drawing both their attention to who had just walked into the room.

"Miss Bradbury."

His dad looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Julia smiled, widely, immediately upon seeing them; "Hey, you two."

She met Daphne's eyes, where she was standing awkwardly off the side; "You're Daphne, right? Harry's through here," she indicated with an incline of her head and Daphne made a swift escape through the door at the invitation.

"Hey Julia," Malachi said, with a smile, as she left.

His dad just continued to stare at her, stupidly, saying nothing. And when it carried on long enough for it to become embarrassing, Julia's warm smile turned to a little grin and she headed on by them up to the counter.

"Huh," his dad finally said, when she was out of earshot, straightening up, his eyes still upon her where she stood; "Maybe I _will_ stick around."

"Aw, Dad. She _dumped_ you, remember?"

His dad's lips pursed together – but there was a little smile developing upon them now – and he gave Malachi a couple of pats on the back; "Thanks for the reality check, Son. Go. Have fun."

He pushed Malachi in the direction of the door while he, himself, headed towards where Julia stood, having not taken his eyes off of her since the moment she'd walked into the room.

Malachi rolled his eyes and headed through to the living room, finding Ron and Hermione already there, sitting on the couch, and Daphne and Harry sitting on the floor in front of them.

"…and it's caused a real big stir," Hermione was saying, with her eyes lit up in obvious excitement; "The first demonstration is next week. I was telling Ron we should go."

"What demonstration?" Malachi asked, as he reached them.

"Oh, it's the One World Demonstrations. From the papers. You wouldn't know it."

"Why wouldn't he know it?" Daphne challenged the assumption.

"Oh. Well. Because…"

Hermione cast an apologetic look his way, obviously uncomfortable, and worried she'd offended him.

"Some guy called Max MacLean –" Harry said, directly to Malachi, before things could get awkward; "- wrote an article about abolishing the Statute and forging a closer relationship between the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds. People like it."

Harry's eyes twinkled.

Malachi shot him a look.

"Never heard of him."

"I couldn't go to the demonstrations even if I wanted to," Harry said, back to Hermione now; "Let me know how it is though. Sounds awesome."

"Will there be muggles?" Malachi asked, curiously, having heard nothing about these demonstrators at all. But, then, he and his dad had spent pretty much all of the last four weeks removed from the Wizarding World all together, except to sleep.

"No," Hermione shook her head; "It's peaceful and breaching the Statute of Secrecy to make a point would kind of _defeat_ the point."

"Well, what is the point?" Ron asked, looking bored by the topic.

"To encourage a better understanding and cohabitation between wizards and muggles, of course," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes, before she went on, with the same excitement as before to the rest of them; "It would really make such a difference to muggleborns, you know, if something like this were to actually happen."

"Can't you just wear your cloak, Harry?" Ron piped up; "That's what it's there for, right?"

"What cloak?" Daphne frowned.

"Oh. Nothing." Ron shared a glance with Hermione, who shot him a look.

Harry met Daphne's eyes, giving her a grin; "Invisibility Cloak."

Daphne scoffed.

"Oh, yeah right."

"What? I'm serious," Harry said, and Malachi thought he might actually puff out his chest and just start strutting, there and then; "I'll show it to you if you like. It's upstairs."

Malachi scoffed and Harry met his eyes. Malachi snickered and gave him a mocking thumbs up behind Daphne's back at the oh-so-subtle invitation to his bedroom.

Grace came running down the stairs, then, jumping the last couple into the room with Mrs. Potter on her heels; "Hi Malachi!" she greeted him, excitedly, before her eyes turned upon Daphne, curiously.

"Are you Daphne?" she asked her.

"Grace –" Harry started, looking annoyed already.

"Yes," Daphne gave her a little smile; "Hi. I've seen you around school. It's Grace, isn't it?"

"Please to meet you," Grace held out a hand and Daphne shook it, getting a wider smile; "Are you my brother's girlfriend?"

"Aw, Grace, get lost," Harry blushed, reaching over and giving her a gentle shove; "Go and help mum."

"Mummy doesn't need help. She said I could come and play with all of you," Grace said, with a wide smile, plonking down on the chair next to where Malachi was standing.

She indicated with her hand that Malachi lean down and he grinned and did so – going along with the act of secrecy – and she cupped her hand to his ear before she spoke.

He expected some smart comment about Harry and Daphne.

Instead, she whispered; "Your dad's in the kitchen with Julia."

Malachi rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

Julia stood up from where she'd been kneeling, lining a few trays along the top of the counter and reaching for the packets of food that were to be cooked.

Regulus stood beside her, watching her work.

She met his eyes, getting a little smile; "What?"

"What?"

"Oh, so you just came over here to stand and stare in silence?" she asked, with a laugh in her voice, as she plucked out the raw pastries from the bag she held, arranging them one by one on the tray.

"What can I say, Miss Bradbury, your presence has rendered me quite speechless."

Julia chuckled, shaking her head, her voice as affectionate as it was playful; "Wow, I didn't even know that was possible."

"Wonders never cease. Hell, indeed, must have frozen over."

Julia's shoulders shook with amusement, and she met his eyes again, seeming almost as giddy and delighted by his presence as he was hers. And she didn't even bother to hide anything about how she felt about him, either; it was all there in her expression when she looked at him. And his own affection for her swelled in turn, making him cross his arms to stop himself for reaching for her as a wave of longing quickly followed.

Merlin, he had missed her.

He had thought, in fact, that he would never see her again in his life.

"So," Regulus gave a little shrug, still smiling with his arms still crossed; "Riddle me this. I heard you were long gone."

She gave a nod, meeting his eyes briefly when she looked up from the tray she was preparing, the giddiness dimming somewhat at the reminder.

"Got a plane tomorrow."

" _Tomorrow,"_ Regulus repeated, feeling mischievous, now; "Fancy that, huh? Your last day on the continent is to be spent in my company. Funny thing, fate."

"Oh, fate it must be. I told Harry I'd stick around; see his birthday. I don't have to sign on until Wednesday."

"Well that's a tight squeeze."

It was Monday, after all, and with the time difference she'd be stumbling from the plane straight into work. And he couldn't help but notice that while he had been utterly floored by her presence when she'd walked through the door, she had not been at all surprised to see _him_.

"Any other reason for holding off so late?"

Julia met his eyes and he got a cheeky smile.

"I mean. You knew _I'd_ be here."

Julia pursed her lips together, as if trying to suppress a smile, and Regulus knew, then, with a little flutter in his heart that she'd stuck around, here, purposefully to see him.

Even if she didn't admit it. Instead, she carried on with the task at hand and Regulus, feeling a little boost of confidence – and cockiness, he must admit, at his realisation – stepped in closer to her.

"Can I help?"

Julia grabbed a bag and chucked it to his chest with a smile, not looking up from the one she was dealing with.

"Yes, you can."

"My pleasure, Miss Bradbury."

* * *

"Ugh. I didn't know that Harry having a girlfriend would make him turn into one of _those_ brothers," Grace said, with a glower in Harry's direction.

Dora – her Uncle Remus' new girlfriend – chuckled, shaking her head; "Just isn't fair, is it, when a girl turns a guy's head?"

"What's that mean? Turn their head?"

"Makes them look. Want to be with them all the time."

"Like you and Uncle Remus."

Dora got a little red, shaking her head; "Well."

"You don't have to pretend. I saw you kissing. I told my mum; she thinks it's cute."

"Does she, now?"

Grace nodded, smilingly, before she went on; "My mummy and daddy used to kiss sometimes, when we were all here together. Not like you and Uncle Remus, though. He kissed differently. Just really quick."

"Oh. Well. Maybe they were just friendly kisses."

"No. He loves her very much," Grace said, with a shake of the head; "He told me so. But I haven't seen him for a long time. Do you think they had a fight?"

Dora was looking between her and her Uncle Remus with a frown, confused by what she was saying. Grace really didn't like that. How people would always look at her like she was _crazy_ whenever she talked. As if what she was saying wasn't the truth.

"Your Daddy? You mean your Uncle Remus?"

Grace looked confused; "No. Mummy and Uncle Remus aren't fighting anymore. But maybe she is with my Daddy. He hasn't been home since last summer. I miss him."

Dora looked even more confused, now, and Grace guessed she wasn't going to be much help. She didn't seem to really know very much.

So, Grace thought it'd be better to talk about something else; something more fun.

"My mummy said there's going to be games. Can you help me get one?"

"Sure."

Dora nodded, following Grace up the stairs, eyes glancing back at her Uncle Remus as she did so.

"That food is for the guests, Black!"

"Aren't I a guest?" Regulus asked, grinning through a mouthful of the pastry he had pinched.

"I think 'pest' is the more appropriate turn of phrase right now," Julia said, shooing him – but she was grinning widely, as she did, the two of them having been flirting shamelessly with one another the entire time they'd been working back here – and she snatched up the tray he was nicking from; "You're eating everything before I can even get them on the plates."

"Well, how can I possibly resist, when the chef, herself, is so irresistible, hm?" Regulus wiggled his eyebrows, lifting a mini pastry from the other tray, that was still hanging out the oven, and he held it up to her lips; "Here. Don't deny yourself the pleasure, Miss Bradbury."

Julia hesitated, eyeing it where it was - mere millimetres from the lips that had been tempting him so very much - and she met his eyes, raising an eyebrow.

He bowed his head, holding up his free hand, as if in surrender.

"Ah. My bad."

Regulus' grin widened, even if he should have been cowed by her look, and he popped the pastry into his own mouth instead, leaning his face closer to hers; "Do forgive me for trying to feed you. Your lips are just far too enticing."

"Oh," Julia covered her face with her hands – to hide her blush or her smile, he didn't know, but he loved it – and she dropped her hands, shaking her head; "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing," Regulus laughed, shaking his head; "You are doing it right back."

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh, we've always done this," Regulus waved a hand, before plucking up another pastry and popping it into his mouth; "You knew we'd do this."

Julia rolled her eyes, before meeting his and giving him a smile – less playful, more sincere this time; "Maybe I did."

"Aha!" Regulus pointed at her, triumphantly; "Then you admit it. You delayed your departure in order to see me one last time."

"Alright," Julia shrugged, smiling right back at him; "Yes. I did. I wanted to say goodbye. Maybe I even missed you."

She rolled her eyes as she said it, as if to dim the sentiment, but her eyes told him it was the truth.

"Perish the thought. Have Lily give you the address. I'm always happy to see you."

Julia's playful demeanour dropped then and she frowned, shaking her head – cowed, herself, it seemed, by his invitation – and speaking sincerely.

"No. Regulus…" she sighed, turning away and gathering up handfuls of the pastries from the tray to put on the plates; "I wouldn't do that."

"Miss Bradbury, I would not be offended," Regulus reassured her, putting a hand upon his chest – still keeping up _his_ side of the act – when he added; "On the contrary, I am _more_ than happy for you to use me to drive away any particularly lonely nights –"

Julia met his eyes sharply, a smile playing on her lips.

" – it's not like we haven't before."

"I think that's a _very_ slippery slope, Regulus."

"Hm, I suppose it would be," Regulus nodded; "For two people as madly in love as we."

Regulus could tell by the way the playfulness – the twinkle – in her eyes dimmed at his statement, that what he'd said was too far of a push.

But she didn't look away. She didn't hide from it. That it had hurt. And this time, _he_ was suitably cowed by the look she gave him.

It hadn't been a joke. Them.

It had been one of the very few things real that he'd actually had.

He swallowed, lowering his eyes.

But he met hers again – made himself – when he spoke, quietly this time.

"I've missed you too, Julia."

She looked surprised at his sudden earnestness.

He held her look, so that she'd know he meant it – Merlin, he meant it – and she gave him a small, sad smile, then, at what had been lost.

Regulus shook his head, not allowing this opportunity to turn into _that_ and he smiled again, leaning closer to her.

"And in that spirit; for now, let us celebrate time spent together, today –" he waved a dismissive hand " –and forget about tomorrow."

"Yeah, we tried that, Black."

"Well, in this case there is a very distinct time limit," Regulus said, tapping her on nose with his finger and making her smile; "For tomorrow, you shall be flying off to pastures new and you and I will be a thing of distant – _most fond_ \- memory. And I say that, if _fate_ should have seen to it that we get to spend one more day together – why then, Miss Bradbury – I am _more_ than happy to take advantage of that."

"Is that right?" Julia eyed him, smiling back at him again, fully now. Quite obviously tempted by the offer.

"Oh," Regulus nodded, leaning closer so their noses were almost touching; "It is more than right."

He lifted a strawberry then, from one of the plates – something they'd always done before – and held it to her lips.

Julia held his look and he raised an eyebrow – daring her to resist – and she didn't. Wouldn't. They never did, whenever they were put into a room together. Even now, it seemed, after all that had happened.

And she opened her mouth, for him to pop the strawberry in, and when he did she caught his fingertips with her tongue – purposefully, he knew, to tease – and his, and her, eyes darkened with want – no one had ever made him _want_ in quite the same way as Julia Bradbury – as he shook his head with a fond smile.

"Oh, you little vixen."

She chuckled, giving him a nod, and then she handed him another plate.

"Fill the plate, not your stomach, Black."

* * *

"Alright, we need teams!" his mum announced, when Grace and Tonks had reappeared with one of the wizarding charades games from upstairs a little while later.

"How about the Slytherins versus the Gryffindors?" Ron suggested, as Julia and Mr. Black came in from the kitchen, finishing up putting out the plates of food on the coffee table.

"Aw, come on," Tonks held up her hands in exaggerated offence; "There's more than two Houses in case people have forgotten."

"You can be an honorary Slytherin for the day, little cousin," Mr. Black said, with a grin, as he took a seat on the love seat at the fireplace; "I fear we're more than a little outnumbered, otherwise."

"What about Julia," Harry pointed out, mischievously, for everyone in the room had noticed the shameless flirting that had been going on between the two of them; "She didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, where _does_ that leave me?" Julia raised an eyebrow, with a shrug, and a smile in Harry's direction.

Mr. Black leaned forward where he sat behind her, hooking his fingers into the back of her trousers and tugging so she fell back into the seat beside him.

"You just sit right here next to me, Miss Bradbury."

"Alright, five and five," his mum said, with a smile; "Perfect."

"Wait, what about me?" Grace looked offended at having been excluded.

"Pick one, Grace," Harry said, taking a seat on the couch next to Hermione; "Slytherin or Gryffindor."

Grace glanced between the two teams that were assembling, and then lifted her eyes thoughtfully, before she announced.

"Slytherin."

"Ooooh!" the Gryffindor team expressed their disapproval with mock offence and thumbs down.

Grace giggled, enjoying the attention, and bounded over into Mr. Black's lap.

"Why Slytherin, Grace?" Malachi asked her with a smile, where he was sat beside him.

"My daddy's a Slytherin," Grace said, innocently, to the confusion of several – not in the know – in the room, who looked between Remus and Grace with a frown.

Mr. Black cleared his throat, adjusting her where he sat, meeting Tonks eyes when he did. She raised an eyebrow and he scoffed, shaking his head; "Don't look at me."

"Alright," his mum interrupted, looking more than a little uncomfortable at Grace's announcement; "So, we all know the rules. Birthday boy's first."

She held out the card to Harry and he grinned, getting up to take it.

The day carried on in much the same way, the jokes and the laughter and the playfulness and it was nice, even if Harry didn't really get the chance to talk to Daphne that much – not that he cared about that, he reminded himself, he spoke to her just as much as he did Hermione and Ron and Malachi, after all – and the mood was playful, jovial, by the time dinner rolled around and everyone stayed a little longer than planned and ended up in the garden as day turned to dusk.

"Push me higher, Uncle Remus!" Grace laughed, from where she was with Remus and Tonks down at the further end where the swing and the sandpit was.

It was nice – if still a bit bewildering – to see Remus happy and _with_ someone, particularly now that they were doing so, so openly.

Ron and Hermione were bickering where they sat on the grass, while Harry, Daphne and Malachi sat a little bit further away, leaving them too it. But they didn't need to, not really, as, while Ron had been pretty vocal in his objections to Harry inviting along another Slytherin, he'd seemed willing enough to grudgingly accept her presence, having heard all about how Daphne had stood up for Malachi at the end of term.

She obviously fancied Malachi, Ron had said, and Harry felt silly at how much he hated that thought – a little surge of _jealousy_ rising up within him at the statement – but he knew that Malachi didn't feel the same.

Not that it mattered, he reminded himself.

"This is amazing, Malachi," Daphne said, with an excited grin, as she read the new piece he'd written; "It'll be going out this week. Want me to get a copy sent to the Foundation?"

"No," Malachi said, immediately, his eyes going in his dad's direction; "No, I'll just find it somewhere."

Harry smirked, when he followed Malachi's gaze to where Mr. Black and Julia were sitting on the bench at the furthest end of the garden, alone and extremely close, as they giggled and spoke into to one another's ears.

"Think I should tell your dad my room's free if he needs it?"

Malachi shook his head in disapproval.

"He's just gonna get hurt."

"She obviously really likes him," Daphne said, looking in their direction.

"Doesn't matter," Malachi said with a shrug; "They can't do anything about it, so."

"I thought you liked Julia," Harry frowned.

"I do," Malachi conceded; "But I love my dad more. And…I just don't think he could deal with another disaster right now."

"Hey, Sweetie," Harry's mum appeared, over his shoulder; "I was thinking, does Malachi want to spend the night?"

Obviously, she'd noticed them, too.

"Yes, he does," Harry agreed, instantly, delighted with the plan – he'd been bored at home, long enough, and he had no wish for the fun they'd been having to end any time soon – and his mum smiled, heading on her way.

Malachi looked after his mum and then back in his dad's direction; "I don't know. Maybe I should go home…"

"Come on, she leaves tomorrow," Harry pointed out; "Let them say bye."

Malachi sighed, watching them, appraisingly, and he seemed to warm a little at the brightness in his dad's smile when he laughed, suddenly, captivated by whatever Julia had said to him.

And he looked back at Harry, getting a smile, and nodded.

"Yeah. Alright. I'll stay."

* * *

"So, how'd you enjoy the party, Miss Greengrass?" Regulus asked, feeling a little less awkward around the girl now that he'd seen how comfortably she'd sat with Harry and his son at the party.

Or maybe it was just that he was now, unexpectedly, in an extremely good mood.

The girl, Daphne, got a little smile; "Not as much as you did, Sir."

Regulus' lips twitched, eyeing her, as they made their way down the corridor to the entrance lobby of the Foundation.

"You have a bit of cheek about you. I can see why my son likes you."

"I like him too," she said, and Regulus could tell that she was sincere; "He's got a cheek about him as well. He's just a bit more Slytherin about it."

Regulus laughed then.

"Believe me I know," his eyes caught sight of Elijah Greengrass up ahead. He stopped where he was, having no wish to ruin what had turned out to be a rather delightful day and gave a polite nod to Daphne, who had stopped when he did.

"Well. I believe that's your father. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Greengrass."

He found it wasn't, exactly, a lie, anymore; and he was glad, at least, that if his son were to fall in with the Slytherins – and he needed _some_ to have his back in that House – that it was one like this, who so obviously wasn't going to be joining the ranks anytime soon, nor ever.

Not if Elijah Greengrass were still the same pompous – he pushed that thought away, determined to hold onto his good mood, this night.

"Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Black," Daphne smiled at him, before she headed off to join her father.

"Any time, Sweetheart," Regulus said, with a smile, before he indicated to security that Elijah Greengrass could now be struck from the admittance list – once was the exception – and he headed back in the direction of his office that they'd flooed in from, determined to get back to the party – and a certain Miss Bradbury – as soon as he could.

Fate, it seemed, _did_ seek to intervene that night, as it happens, and not in the positive way he had joked about. When he stepped into his own office, he quickly noticed Severus through the gap in the adjourning open door in his own.

Regulus hesitated at the fireplace, noticing Severus' less than stellar appearance even from all these meters away, and his friend didn't even seem to have noticed that Regulus had come into his own office at all.

Regulus turned where he stood and headed towards him.

"The Foundation to be graced with your presence tonight, is it?"

Severus met his eyes as he stepped across the threshold.

Good grief.

He _did_ look horrendous.

But Severus gave him a nod, neither acknowledging the fact that Malfoy Manor was – quite possibly – hell on Earth at the moment and Regulus took one of the seats opposite.

"Lily has informed me of your quest."

"Oh? And what do you think of it?"

Severus did his very best not to scowl.

"You know what I think of it."

"Has there been any movement on –"

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Severus called, as Regulus turned to look.

The person who knocked came in and Regulus smiled.

"Cissy."

She didn't look as bad as Severus did, no, but she certainly did not look unaffected. Both of them in there - the Dark Lord's lair - day in, day out. Seeing things Regulus could not bear to remember.

Narcissa closed the door behind her, raising an eyebrow; "Conspiring?"

Severus immediately looked uneasy, for he was far less open about discussing anything – particularly conspiracies – while in the presence of anyone, much less his cousin.

"Boys night in," Regulus smirked; "Feel free to join us. I could do with both your input on the Reopening Gala this weekend."

Both of them looked unenthused at the reminder.

Narcissa got a tight smile, as she approached; "I just wanted to have a quick word, Severus."

"Something that could not be discussed at the Manor?" Severus asked, guardedly.

"The Dark Lord would not approve."

She did not sit, just stood behind the free chair beside Regulus.

"If it is something of which the Dark Lord would not approve, then you ought not to speak of it," Severus said swiftly and Regulus, being her cousin, immediately caught the little glint that Narcissa got at the abruptness.

"It is about Draco," she said, undeterred; "You're aware, I presume, of the task that has been bestowed upon him."

She said bestowed as if it were something most unpleasant, indeed.

"Indeed. I know of it."

Regulus didn't. And neither seemed inclined to bring him into the circle of secrecy.

"It is a punishment; a trap," Narcissa went on; "He is trying to lure out his spy. And I, apparently, am in the running."

"That is the Dark Lord's plan, yes. And that spy will not be lured. We are aware of the Dark Lord's ploy in this regard and the last thing I would advise you to do at this moment, Narcissa, would be to deviate from what the Dark Lord expects of you."

"He is going after my son to see how I will react. To see to who I would turn."

"And so, you come to me," Severus leaned back; "I appreciate that."

Regulus eyed the two of them, uneasily, at Severus' sarcasm.

"You're both going to be at the school. I need you to protect him."

"As I would do, all the students in my House."

"You know what I mean, Severus."

"Narcissa –"

"You need to help him. _You_ need to do it."

"What –" Regulus frowned, but his intervention was ignored.

"Narcissa, you are behaving recklessly. It will do no good to your son if the Dark Lord finds you have responded as such –"

"You're a father!" Narcissa snapped, her eyes flashing.

A heavy silence fell upon the three of them in the room.

As if none were willing to move – or breathe – in light of the forbidden statement. The obvious threat.

But Narcissa moved, eventually, first, speaking coldly, without any of the warmth that was always present whenever she and Regulus had their own encounters, her eyes entirely for Severus.

"You _will_ protect my son."

Severus eyed her, coolly, where he sat opposite them.

And then he gave her a single nod.

"Yes, I will."

Narcissa turned and marched from the room, Severus and Regulus watching her go.

The door clicked shut behind her and Regulus swiftly turned back to Severus; baffled by what had just transpired.

"What the hell was _that_?"

Severus would tell him nothing. No matter how long Regulus lingered.

And, by the time Regulus had given up – on learning what he was sure was something of vast significance – and had gone to the house to gather up an overnight bag for Malachi, it was late.

Very late.

The party would be over.

And Julia would be gone.

He allowed himself to bear the disappointment. But only for a minute or two. He had been lucky to have had the little time that afternoon that they had been granted.

A little bit of lightness and a few hours to forget it all and just be lost in her, once more.

He knocked on the front door to Lily's, not waiting before opening it and heading inside.

The living room was empty, though he could hear the voices of Malachi, Harry and Grace upstairs. He went on through to the kitchen, finding it immaculately clean, as Lily finished up putting away the last of the clean dishes into a cupboard.

Her eyes lit up, seeing him; "Oh, Regulus. You just missed Julia."

Regulus got a little smile, realizing she must have waited behind longer – helped clean up – and he wondered if, maybe, she'd done so, so that they would just happen to run into one another again.

He wondered if he should go follow her to her flat.

Quashed the thought immediately.

"Just dropping off this," Regulus lifted the bag he held a little higher, before putting it down on the back of one of the chairs.

Lily got a little smile and Regulus knew she'd been the one to suggest this, to free him up for the night to go home with a certain someone – he hadn't bothered to hide anything, neither of them had, that day – and he gave her a nod, heading towards the kitchen door to depart.

"See you tomorrow, Regulus."

"Night, Lily."

He stepped out into the night, making his way down the path, and when he did, he noticed her immediately.

Julia.

She was just across the street, seeming to have lingered, her eyes glancing in the direction that she knew he would have come – had he not come to the front of the estate, that is, as he rarely did – and he got a smile.

She had waited.

She seemed to have given up, now, though, as she pulled open her bag and rummaged through. Standing there in the darkness, on the street, carelessly – or, rather, carefree – and taking no notice of anything or anyone that may be around the harm her.

That wasn't her life, Regulus reminded himself, and he found, most of the time, that he was intoxicated by that aspect of her, alone. How unscathed she was by the world.

It was easy to step up behind her, with her taking no notice of his presence until he spoke in her ear; "Where are you spending your last night in England, Miss Bradbury?"

Julia paused in her movements and Regulus could see a smile play on her lips, as she considered his words. After a moment, she met his eyes over her shoulder; "You tell me."

Regulus hesitated then.

The recent encounter with Severus and Narcissa a most unpleasant, stark reminder of why he'd pushed Julia away in the first place.

He shouldn't have done this.

Already, he could feel three months of hard-worked-for recovery from his quite-broken heart being thrown to the wind.

He drew in a breath, back-pedalling, because this wasn't fair. Not to either of them. And he gave her a sheepish smile; "We probably shouldn't."

Julia raised an eyebrow, entirely without malice and with an adorable little smile that tugged at her lips.

"Well. Never thought I'd see the day," she chuckled, zipping up her bag; "Alright, suit yourself."

She slung the strap of it over her shoulder, preparing to leave, before she met his eyes; her own full of warmth and affection when she did.

Regulus looked back at her.

He just loved her. He loved her.

He could admit it to himself, now. Now that she was going. Walking out of his life - to safety – just as she should.

Julia gave him a smile – it wasn't the playful, cheeky smile that she often gave when they played and they flirted with one another – no, this was warm and genuine and, Merlin, she was just…everything.

"Take care of yourself, Regulus," she said, quietly, meaningfully – so much love in _her_ tone, when she said it – before she stepped towards him and pressed her lips to his cheek.

It was, quite literally, torture. Every nerve in his body came alive at her proximity; everything about her was familiar and _right_ ; her scent, her warmth, the feel of her lips and – when she drew back – the little spark of heat in her eyes, before she slowly turned and began to walk away.

To walk away from him, forever.

He couldn't stop himself. An ache, a yearning deep within him took hold, making him lose his senses, just for a moment. Long enough for him to catch her hand and say her name.

"Julia."

Julia stopped.

Time stood still with them.

Suspended in this moment.

He tugged.

The slightest pull on her hand and she turned back. Closed the distance between them and took him by the nape of the neck and claimed his lips with hers, no chance of hesitation or rationalisation.

And, of course, he surrendered, as he always did. He could do nothing else. He could never do anything else but surrender and belong to her, so long as she'd have him.

He loved her.

For one more night.

Just one more night.


	71. August 1995: All In

Malachi woke in the night to the sounds of harsh throaty gasps and hisses coming from the other side of the room.

It took a second for him to be sure it wasn't just something – a lingering in his subconsciousness, maybe – from his dreams. Or, rather, a nightmare.

But the hissing and the harsh vocalisations continued – snake-like and sinister – and Malachi rolled over where he lay on the bed that Mrs Potter had transfigured for him, eyes seeking out Harry in the darkness.

"Harry?"

The hissing continued.

It was coming _from_ Harry, Malachi realised, and he frowned, waking up fully, then, and chucked the covers off of himself to get to his feet.

"Harry?"

The rasping went on.

It was definitely _Harry_ making those sounds, he could see his lips moving as he got closer, and Malachi wondered if this was what he had told him about, before, how he could speak to snakes – parseltongue – and maybe he was dreaming about them or something.

Harry's hisses and his rasps became more agitated and Malachi reached down, shaking his shoulder.

"Hey," he said, a little louder than his previous whispers; "Hey. Harry. Harry, wake up."

Harry's eyes opened suddenly.

But it wasn't Harry looking back at him.

Harry snarled and lunged, seizing Malachi by the throat with a hiss, and Malachi yelped – tried to – but his attempt was cut off with the air to his lungs and he grasped, desperately at Harry's hand and his arm and his face, slapping him and slapping him and slapping him as he choked for breath.

And then he was abruptly let go and he fell to the bedroom floor with a thud in a heap, gasping and coughing.

Malachi lay there, just trying to breathe, as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

"Malachi?" Harry appeared above him and he quickly reached up his hands to protect himself against another attack.

But it _was_ Harry, this time, and his eyes were full of worry and concern as he hurriedly pulled him up to sit, crouched down beside him; "Malachi, are you alright?"

"What the hell was that?" his voice was a croak, a breathy whisper.

"I dunno. I dunno. I…that wasn't me."

"I know…who it was," Malachi wheezed, feeling a state of panic come over him as he did; "But…how did he…You were…talking that snake talk –" he coughed; "- parseltongue – what did you see?"

Harry hesitated, glancing away, as he tried to recall.

But then he shrugged, as he shook his head.

"I don't remember."

* * *

The curtain stirred in the breeze at the window, sunlight flickering upon them with its movements.

The sun had been up for some time; getting higher and higher in the sky, a reminder that time was ticking. Almost up.

She had to go.

If she were being honest, she was already late.

" – and in the last of these muggle pictures that my son has dragged me along to, this _lunatic_ actually chases down the plane threatening to fly off with his beloved," Regulus finished up telling his story, as he rolled up the last of the pancakes Julia had brought through some while ago – a recreation of their first morning together, almost a year before – and he shot her a grin, as he lifted it to his lips.

"I kid you not, Miss Bradbury, if I were a muggle: I'd be the lunatic chasing down your plane."

Julia laughed as he took a bite.

She propped her head up on her hand where she lay next to him on the bed; "And what would you say when you caught me, hm? Would you beg me to stay?"

"Certainly not!" he said, in exaggerated offence, and he leaned in closer, so their noses almost touched; "I'd say take me with you. Show me the world."

"But not now?"

Regulus' chin tilted upwards, as he eyed her, amusedly, and he spoke with a laugh in his voice, belying a surprise that even _she_ felt at what she'd unthinkingly said.

"Miss Bradbury. Are you asking me to run away with you?"

Julia glanced down, uncertainly, before she lifted her eyes with a coy smile back to his.

Regulus' own grin became a smile in turn, awfully close to the sincere ones she loved, and he seemed to actually think about it – if only for a moment – before his look turned wry and he shook his head.

"It would be just the same, Julia," he popped the little bit of pancake he had left into his mouth and then reached for her hand; "You would be just as miserable with me on the other side of the world, as you would be right here."

He pressed a kiss to the pulse of her wrist.

"I've never thought that I would be miserable with you, Regulus."

Regulus kept his eyes upon her, searchingly for a moment, before gave her a small smile and a nod, before he drew up her hand he still held and put it around his neck.

"Where would you take me?" he asked, laying his head down on the pillow and she did the same, facing him.

"Where'd you like to go?"

"Hm. Well, I _would_ quite like to see where you spent that wild year of yours. I'd love to meet your cult."

"It's a Witches Coven, Black, women only."

"Well, I certainly have no objection to that."

Julia laughed, shaking her head; "And here was me thinking we'd be together."

"Oh," Regulus grinned and nodded, exaggeratedly; "Oh, we would be. In which case, you are quite right, and someplace more romantic would be in order. France, I think."

"France."

"Talloires, I saw it, did I tell you? Malachi and I, we had a look this summer. Beautiful place."

"Mhm. Yeah."

"But for you and I; I think I'd prefer Paris."

"City boy?"

"I am that. At least I was. In my _own_ wild years. Circumstances –" he rolled his eyes, as if those circumstances were a mere inconvenience; " – they prevent me from settling in the cities. But I miss it. London. The hustle and bustle."

"Paris it is, then."

"Where would we live?"

"Top floor, balcony," she said, without missing a beat.

Regulus screwed up his face, shaking his head; "Ground floor, patio."

"Why the ground?"

"Safer for the kids."

Julia got a smile.

"There'd be kids?"

"Absolutely," Regulus' eyes gleamed, adorably so; "Five daughters –"

" _Five_ –"

"And two more sons."

"You want _eight_ children."

"Seven mini Regulus' and Julia's, running through the house; they'd have big brother Malachi run ragged."

Julia laughed, looking at him fondly.

"And he should like some siblings," Regulus said, a little more thoughtfully.

"Yeah?"

He got a wry smile, eyes on the sheets between them.

"I've quite cheated him out of that."

Julia bit her lip as he met her eyes; they looked at one another, one of those rare moments that she longed for where Regulus would just be real with her.

And she drew in a breath, offering a bit of herself in turn – kidding herself, that he didn't already have it all; "I'd like two."

Regulus got a small smile; "Two's perfect."

A heaviness settled upon them, then; a heaviness they'd pretended for the past twenty-four hours didn't exist. Just like before. Except, this time, it was waiting, making itself known sooner, and Regulus reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear and allowing his hand to linger there as he caressed her cheek, speaking quietly.

"You'll have your two, Julia. And your ground floor apartment with the safe patio for them to run around in. You'll find someone – not quite so dashingly handsome and charming, maybe – but that someone will turn your world upside down, like you have quite done with mine, and give you the world right back. You'll live the most incredible life, Miss Bradbury. I know it."

Julia tried to imagine it.

The free and easy life, with the faceless man and his children that Regulus spoke of.

But that image quickly changed. Morphed into one of _them_ : she and Regulus, laughing and teasing one another on the couch in Crail, and Malachi rolling his eyes at their antics where he was reading on the chair beside them.

Julia didn't even know, anymore, which of the two was the fantasy. The lie.

She didn't know which would make her the bigger fool. To stay. Or to run.

Her eyes found his.

"Maybe, after all of this is over, you can come visit."

Regulus didn't smile.

He stayed sincere, shaking his head; "No."

Julia drew in a breath, averting her eyes.

"Julia," his voice was quiet, a murmur, and he leaned his forehead to hers; "I don't want you to spend your life waiting."

She felt the weight upon her heart – that had lifted upon seeing him again – settle there, once more, as if it had never left.

Regulus smiled, then, still earnest and true; "I want you to open every door. And take every chance. I want you to _live_ , Miss Bradbury."

It was in that moment, that Julia realized it; the truth of it all.

She didn't _want_ to live without him.

She was more frightened by it than warmed.

Until Regulus, she had always been happier alone.

"When do you have to leave?" he asked.

Julia didn't have to look at the timepiece to know that she was now – already – very late.

"We still have time," she whispered.

She wasn't entirely sure if that was a lie.

Regulus smiled, his look turning mischievous now. And she loved that, too. Frustrating as his smiles and jokes could sometimes be.

She loved everything about him, Regulus Black. Every smile and every touch. Every joke and every whisper. He drove her crazy and made her feel safer than she had ever known, all at once.

"You don't have to tell me twice, Miss Bradbury."

He lifted her chin, capturing her lips with his; once more.

But then again; just maybe not.

* * *

Harry waited impatiently in the basement.

Snape was late, again.

Harry hoped he wouldn't cancel altogether.

He had managed to fend off Malachi's fussing the day before – though neither had been able to sleep, again, after how he had almost unintentionally strangled him to death – and managed to convince him that he would speak to Snape about it. Not his mum, as Malachi was quick to insist, for she'd either not know anything or, if she did, she'd just keep it from him, anyway.

The door to the basement opened and Snape stepped inside.

He looked a bit better than he did, the first visit, but worse than the most recent one.

"Mr. Potter," he greeted him, hiding any surprise he may have felt at finding him waiting on the other side of the door; "Keen to begin?"

"I…I needed to talk to you."

Snape looked at him, closely, quickly picking up on his agitation; "Has something happened?"

"Yeah –" Harry nodded, but then he hesitated.

Realising and fearing what would happen if it happened again – now – and Voldemort saw Snape, instead of Malachi in front of him. Harry quickly turned his back on him.

"Potter. What are you doing?"

"It's him," Harry whispered.

There was a silence.

"Go on."

Harry did. Told him everything about the nightmare he couldn't really remember – it was mostly all Malachi's account of the incident – as he had experienced only the slightest of glimpses, as if he were being jerked back and forth from one place to the next.

He was slithering along the ground as if he were a snake, himself, and then it was just darkness, a dreamless sleep, and then he was back, and then he was in the snake again; almost as if he were untethered to his own body.

And he told him how when Malachi had woken him it hadn't been _him_ but someone else – Voldemort, Harry knew – and how he had been completely unable to control himself as he'd felt himself lunge for him. Unable to stop himself as he felt his best friend's throat crush beneath his fingers, undulating desperately for air.

Snape remained quiet behind him for a few moments after Harry related the incident.

"Turn around."

"But –"

"Turn around, Mr. Potter," Snape sounded entirely calm, as if it were all business as usual; "Should it happen again, you and I will know of it. It will be necessary for you and I to maintain eye contact, so that I may attempt to locate this vision. There is no getting around that, I am afraid."

"I don't think it was a _vision_ ," Harry said, as he reluctantly turned, still not quite looking at Snape as long as he could help it; "I think he was in me. Or I was in him. Like…we were connected, somehow. But it was different to how it was last time. It was like…when he possessed me, at the Foundation, kind of. But…how could he do that, when we're so far apart?"

Harry hoped they were far apart.

"That is something that will require investigation," Snape stated, with ongoing enviable calmness; "Did you do as instructed – clear you mind of thoughts and emotions before going to bed that night? Have you been doing so, this summer?"

"I…well…yes, I have. I've been meditating every night. Usually. But…that was my birthday – and Malachi was staying –"

Snape sighed, averting his eyes, and Harry felt himself bristle at the obvious disappointment.

"These instructions are not optional, Mr. Potter. That, I believe, is where the error had been made."

"No," Harry shook his head; "No. It's never been like that before. Last time, they were like nightmares; this time, I was _there._ And he was _here._ It was like flashes; I was there and then I wasn't. I can't really explain it."

"Very well," Snape said – and Harry wasn't sure if he was really taking his word for it or not – and gave a nod of indication; "Let's have a look, shall we?"

Harry nodded, trusting him immediately, and quickly turned towards him, meeting his eyes. Certain that, if anyone could figure out what had happened, it would be Snape.

" _Legillimens_."

Harmless memories fluttered on by. Memories from the party, mostly. Grace being swung on the swing by Remus and Tonks. Mr. Black and Julia giggling in the garden. His mum appearing over his shoulder with a smile.  
He and Malachi whispering into the night before they'd fallen asleep. And, then, Malachi on the floor beneath him, gasping for breath.

That was as close as they got before Snape lowered his wand.

"While I would have thought this were obvious, Mr. Potter –" Snape said, raising an eyebrow; "You are going to have to lower your occlumency barriers in order to grant me access to the memory."

"I'm not using occlumency," Harry frowned.

Snape eyed him.

"I'm not. Like you said, it goes without saying that won't help you find anything."

"Perhaps you are doing it instinctively," Snape said, dismissively, before he went on; "Try to relax. Pull forth memories from that night, if you can. Otherwise, do not resist."

Harry wasn't resisting.

Still, Snape couldn't find anything.

He tried again.

Again.

He could find nothing from that night - from the dream – other than what had come before and after the event. As if he didn't have the memory. As if it weren't _his_.

"I was in his head, right?" Harry said, with a frown; "And he was in mine. That negated the memories."

Snape looked bewildered, as he contemplated the situation in silence – Harry not privy to any of his thoughts on the matter – before he drew in a breath and met Harry's eyes.

"It is a unique circumstance," Snape finally said, as close to admitting that Harry's assertions that this wasn't like his usual nightmares was right, before he went on; "You must – and I cannot stress this enough, Mr. Potter – you _must_ carry out every method I have assigned to you at the beginning of the holidays before every sleep cycle. Whether that be at night, or in the day, no matter how brief. Keep a record of any other such instances as this and relate them to either myself, or your mother, in the first instance. And it goes without saying that Mr. Black should sleep in another room, in the event of any other such visits."

"Oh," Harry said, before nodding; "Yeah. 'course. Makes sense. I'll just sleep in the living room this weekend when I'm over there."

"Under no circumstances are you to go to the Black premises –"

"What?"

" – until we understand exactly what we are dealing with."

Harry sighed, shoulders dropping at the injustice – he had been looking forward to going to stay with them all week, after being stuck in his own house for over four weeks, now – and he rolled his eyes, looking away.

"Now. In light of this recent turn of events, we shall go forth with this lesson somewhat differently than we have in the past. I am going to assist in strengthening your barriers; by doing so, there must be some give and take, and you are not to resist when I attempt to invade until I give this signal."

The signal was a turn of his hand at his side – almost a thumbs up, though Harry didn't think that's what Snape had intended – and he fought not to snicker at the ludicrous visual that induced.

"Oh…okay."

"Ready yourself. Allow me in. Push me back."

Harry did as instructed.

"Again."

Harry did.

Carried on in that way, several more times.

"Allow me in further."

Harry did.

Again.

Again.

Snape seeing more and more of him – all of his memories, some of which Harry, himself, didn't even really remember – with each attempt.

They carried on that way for what seemed like hours, and Harry began to feel bone weary with it, his brain exhausted by the exercise.

Until they finally stopped.

Snape lifted his chin.

"Now. Pull them up."

Harry did.

" _Legillimens_."

His mind was blank.

Snape couldn't get in.

Even the safest memories that Harry would allow float to the surface, the ones Snape had instructed he offer up, wouldn't rise.

It was just empty.

And Snape drew back, looking satisfied.

"Good."

Harry frowned, utterly bewildered; "Um…how is that good? He's gonna know what I'm doing. You said before that he can't know. He'd just keep trying."

"At the present time, there are more pressing issues to tend to. Such as ensuring your mind is a locked room should he attempt to try and possess it. These barriers - every night, after all of your exercises - pull them up. No exceptions, no matter how exhausted you may be."

Harry nodded, feeling uneasy, when he realized, then, that despite Snape's outward calmness and semblance of control, he was obviously just as uneasy about the whole thing as Harry was, if he had opted to abandon all their previous methods of occlumency in favour of something so baseless and lacking the nuance he had, previously, insisted was necessary.

"I shall return this weekend. Sunday."

"What if it happens again before that?"

"Go to your mother."

"I'd rather come to you."

Snape met his eyes, at that, the swiftness of which belying his surprise.

"I mean…" Harry didn't even know why he'd said that, much less understand when he realized he'd actually meant it; "I just mean, you and I have been working on this. Mum wouldn't know what to do."

"You mother is practiced in maladies of the mind, Mr. Potter," Snape said, in a reasoned tone; "That was, in fact, her chosen specialization when undertaking her Fellowship."

Harry just nodded; feeling foolish for even asking to be able to reach him, should he need to.

"Oh. Yeah. Right. I forgot."

Snape eyed him for a moment.

And then he gave a nod – "Sunday, then," – before he accioed some phials, stuffing them into his pockets, as he made his way from the house.

* * *

Severus had gone to Hogwarts at the first available moment, following his encounter with Harry, requesting a meeting with the Headmaster at his earliest convenience.

His earliest convenience, as it so happens, being that very night.

"- in which case, you ought to prepare yourself for several attempts on your life this upcoming year," Severus stated, as he finished up his report – Dumbledore requesting he begin with that, rather than the more pressing issue of Harry and the Dark Lord's newly realised connection.

"Not that the Dark Lord expects Draco to be successful," Severus added, knowing this was just another one of the Dark Lord's games. The Malfoys – Narcissa, more specifically – to bear victim to his recent exploitations.

Dumbledore regarded him with his usual calmness, from the other side of the desk, making no indication of alarm whatsoever that the Dark Lord had issued the order for his assassination.

"And you believe this to be the ploy that Voldemort intends to use to draw out his spy."

"As far as I am aware, the main contenders are myself and Narcissa; involving Draco and seeing where his mother were to turn – inwards, towards her family in the circle or outwards – ought to give him a good indication of where his traitor lies."

"He suspects she would turn to Regulus?"

"I imagine he has his spy – his elusive third – within the Foundation keeping an eye on that. She and Regulus remain close; but, then, she does so on the Dark Lord's orders."

"And is Regulus aware of what is underfoot?"

"No," Severus averted his eyes; "His conduct at present is as erratic, if not more so, than his cousin's. Should he learn that the candidates for the noose are either myself or Narcissa, in light of the events that transpired at Easter, I doubt he would take the news well."

"You are concerned for him."

Severus simply stared back at him; no need to confirm the obvious.

Dumbledore got a serene smile, accepting Severus' silence as answer, before he went on, smoothly; "And how are Harry's occlumency lessons coming along? You said on arrival there was a matter to discuss?"

"Indeed," Severus straightened up, at the more personal – not that Dumbledore ought to be aware of that – turn of conversation; "It seems that his nightmares have returned; the connection of minds between himself and the Dark Lord, despite the fact that his occlumency skills have vast improved. Indeed, they now surpass what I was able at his age of fifteen. Of particular notice, in this case, is that I was unable to find any trace of the memory of the event during our sessions; even while Mr. Potter was granting me access to do so."

Dumbledore regarded him, contemplatively.

"Is this the first time that this has happened?"

"As far as I am aware. Though Ha – Mr. Potter –" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, which Severus forced himself to ignore; " – explained that he was, in fact, entirely unaware of it happening. Had Malachi Black not been there to bear witness, he would not have been roused and the event may have taken place without him ever knowing. Which bring me to the second, more pressing point of concern; Mr. Potter, upon being woken, attacked Mr. Black, claiming to be under the influence of the Dark Lord, himself."

Dumbledore's expression barely changed.

"If the Dark Lord has the ability to enter his mind," Severus went on, "– to _possess_ him – from the other side of the country, that is no ordinary mind link. Something bonds them. And if occlumency is not enough to control it, then it is something that needs to be severed; immediately."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded, as if in agreement; "I have been pondering that myself, in recent months. Since the initial possession that took place at New Year."

"That one was less alarming; they were within one another's line of sight."

"Nonetheless, it established the fact that the two are joined. Two souls –"

"Souls?" Severus frowned; "The link is of their minds."

"Quite right, Severus," Dumbledore nodded; "It seems as if these two minds have established a link, a kinship, even, in light of the events that took place the night that Sirius Black gave his life for the boy."

"When he was Marked? That's what it meant? That they were to be bonded?"

"It is such an old form of magic; one cannot be entirely certain how a person may respond to being exposed to it. In this case, we can assume that the incident led to the two of them becoming bound to one another in a way which is quite rare and, indeed, unintentional. I doubt either understands what it truly means."

"And do you understand what it truly means, Headmaster?" Severus asked, in exasperation at the riddles.

Dumbledore got that serene smile of his; "Only time will tell if my guess is correct, Severus."

"And I suppose that information is not something that I am to be privy to?" Severus eyed him; "Despite my relationship with the child."

"Your relationship, Severus?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, again.

"As his instructor in how to maintain control over this link," Severus clarified; "And I should think it obvious that the Dark Lord's ability to possess Mr. Potter to do his bidding is not something to be ignored. He roams freely these halls and has family at home who are vulnerable."

Dumbledore nodded, lips twitching.

"Indeed, he does, Severus. And I entirely agree, that more needs to be done to learn of the nature of this connection between the two of them."

"Shall I take that task upon myself, Albus?"

"Certainly not, my boy, you have far too much to attend to as it is," Dumbledore dismissed the offer; "For now, your focus is to remain entirely upon Voldemort and what is going on within the inner circle."

"As one of the top contenders for his next execution, I find my place not quite so valuable as it once was."

"A risk of which you willingly partook, when you opted to direct the Order to come to Regulus Black's aid in April."

Severus glowered at him. Even if Dumbledore made it sound conversational, his disapproval at Severus' intervention was apparent.

"And I would do it again," Severus stated, unapologetically.

"So, you would, Severus. As such, we must now attempt to come up with a strategy of our own, in order to get you back into Tom's good graces. We cannot have you skirting the side lines, not at this crucial point in time."

"I am working on that."

Dumbledore gave a nod. Severus got the distinct impression that the Headmaster was working on that, too.

"That'll be all, Severus," Dumbledore said, giving him a warmer smile, now.

Severus got to his feet, heading to the door.

"Severus."

He glanced over his shoulder.

"Do stop in and see Poppy on your way back to your quarters. I believe the visit would do you some good."

Severus stopped himself from rolling his eyes, simply gave a nod – not that he had any intention of doing as he suggested – before he turned and made his way from the room.

* * *

Regulus and Malachi apparated back to the island with a pop.

"Prefer the theatre festivals to the music ones, Dad?"

"I got a seat; I approve."

Malachi laughed and Regulus shot him a smile, as they made their way back in the direction of the house.

"It's on all month, we could go again," Malachi suggested, enthusiastically; "There's some shows that looked cool. They need tickets, but I saw there was tons left on the stalls when …"

His son's voice trailed off, his eyes up ahead.

Regulus followed his gaze, wondering what had caught his attention, and realized – with a start and a flutter – that _Julia_ was up on the porch.

Julia who, as far as he had been aware, had walked out of his life – again – just two days previously.

Instead, she was sitting down, by the door, as if she'd been waiting a while, staring out at the loch.

Regulus swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry.

"I thought Julia left?"

"Hm."

Regulus headed on ahead, Malachi on his heels.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" he called when he was in hearing distance.

Julia's head whipped in his direction, as he came to a stop at the bottom of the porch.

"Now, that can't possibly be _you_ , Miss Bradbury," he said with a grin, as he raised an eyebrow; "I'm quite certain I gave her a most memorable sendoff not two days ago."

Julia got a little smirk, a chuckle, as she rolled her eyes and got to her feet, stepping down the single step so that she was now facing him.

She said nothing, though, simply looked at him.

Regulus drew in a breath, acutely aware of Malachi's eyes upon them, where he was standing unabashedly a couple of steps behind his back.

"Give us a minute, will you, Son?"

Even with his back to him, Regulus could sense his son's hesitation. But, after a second, his footsteps were heard on the porch and he glanced up, watching as he went into the house.

He met Julia's eyes.

"I um…I had Lily give me the address," she said, before she gave a little shrug and a smile; "I hoped the invitation still stood."

Regulus got a smile, shaking his head at the idea she'd ever be unwelcome; "Of course."

Julia smiled.

Regulus cleared his throat, glancing around them, before he stepped a bit closer; "Miss Bradbury, you'll have to forgive me, but…I _am_ a little confused."

"Oh?"

She got a little grin. One he couldn't help but match, under her playful eyes.

"Shouldn't you be on the other side of the world, right now?"

She held his look; her playfulness dimming with each second that passed.

And then she shook her head.

"No," she said, with far more certainty than anything else she'd said thus far; "No, I don't think that I should."

Regulus' treacherous heart skipped a beat at the statement and the look that she gave him, as she said it. Her meaning _more_ than a little bit clear.

"Oh."

He gave a little laugh, eyes lowering.

Julia looked a little less certain, then, when he lifted them back to hers.

She drew in a breath, before saying; "Well. Unless you were to suggest otherwise, of course."

Regulus stared back at her.

He knew he really _should_ say otherwise. He knew he should march her down to that plane – well, another plane, now – and tell her to get on it and _run_ and never look back. He should tell her he didn't want her – as if such nonsense were even capable of passing his lips– and that she should forget about him.

Go find someone else, have a life, live her dreams.

But he couldn't.

He'd already pushed.

And Regulus had never been good at that. He didn't push.

He'd always pulled. He'd always held on.

He never let people go.

Julia was the first.

And she had come back.

And he was not so selfless, that her coming back to him wouldn't test that resolve. In fact, his _resolve_ had been more than a little flimsy in the first place; brought on entirely by a situation created by his own idiocy.

And he had always – always – been entirely at this woman's mercy, since the moment he'd opened his eyes in her bed the year before.

Regulus drew in a breath, giving her a smile; a surrender. And she smiled, in turn, when she realized – and he admitted – that he could not, would not, ever turn her away. She would have to be the one to go. And if she _wouldn't_ …

Regulus reached for her then, and Julia came to him, no resistance whatsoever, and his lips found hers as his arms embraced her, drawing her closer.

It felt _right._

Everything about her; the wayher lips parted beneath his and her hands clasped upon his neck and how perfectly she fit into his arms. As if she were _supposed_ to be there, his foolish mind dared to think.

Regulus drew back, ever so slightly, to touch his forehead to hers, his voice a murmur when he spoke.

"You never cease to amaze me, Miss Bradbury."

Julia gave a little hum of laughter, of contentment, and looked back at him, her affection for him as apparent as it always was in her eyes.

"The feeling's entirely mutual, Mr. Black."

Regulus grinned.

"Will you come inside?"

She nodded.

Regulus' hand found hers, and he tugged her in the direction of the house, and she followed.

He tugged a little harder – playfully, so – and she stumbled with a laugh a few steps in front of him, and – keeping a hold of her hand – he lifted his arm up and over her head, wrapping it around her waist.

He drew her close and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he murmured into to her ear.

"If you don't like it; we'll find somewhere else."

Julia laughed; "Is that right?"

"Oh, indeed," Regulus nodded, as he reached over her to pull open the door; "My son hates it. So, if you should agree with him, I would be quite outnumbered."

He grabbed the doorknob, giving it a pull, and the two of them stumbled on into the house to find him.

* * *

"Severus?"

Severus lifted his head, from where he was crouched before the small bookcase in the basement, eyes finding Lily as she descended the stairs.

Upon seeing, for sure, that it was him she tucked her wand into her night robe, tilting her head to the side as she approached.

"It's the middle of the night."

"My apologies, for disturbing you," Severus said, straightening up; "I had need of something." He indicated vaguely in the direction of the bookcase; "I thought, perhaps, I'd find it here."

"A book?" Lily frowned, approaching and he nodded as she reached him, easily slipping her arms around his waist.

"Yes," he conceded, touching his lips, briefly to her forehead, before he glanced around the basement at the various books scattered here and there; "I thought you might have some of the lost works on bonds and connections that may form between minds. From your Fellowship."

"The one you loaned me?" Lily remembered, stepping out of his arms to get it; "I don't keep precious things like gifts from you just lying around, Severus," she said with a little grin.

Severus smiled, then, a little but she could tell he was more keen for the book than her presence, that night, and she unlocked the cabinet, finding it and handing it over.

"Is this about Grace?" she asked, as she eyed the title.

_Mind Links: Bonds Beyond Magic._

"No," Severus said, quietly, his eyes upon it; "It is Harry." He met her eyes; "He has not yet come to you?"

"About what?" Lily frowned, immediately concerned.

"The Dark Lord. The link between them has made itself known once more. One I fear occlumency may not be enough to subdue."

"How so?" Lily asked, uneasily; "I thought you said his occlumency was good – better than you thought it would ever be – that he –"

Severus put a hand on her arm, interrupting her; "I have done what I can to lock his mind to the Dark Lord, for now, until I know more. And the Headmaster has been informed and is doing what he can, also, to learn what it is that we are dealing with."

"But you're worried. I can see it. You don't think Harry can keep him out? What more – what stronger defenses does the mind have against such attempts to enter than occlumency?"

"There is no stronger defence. There ought to be no need of one. Occlumency is resolute. It prevents access to visions, to memories, to the Imperius, even to possession. That the Dark Lord has been able … Dumbledore believes – suspects – that something may have happened the night Black was killed; that the experience bonded them, in some way, as part of the prophesized Marking."

"Bonded, how?"

"Whatever it is, I'll find it," Severus stated, assuredly, tucking the book into his robes; "Will you be attending the Opening Gala tomorrow?"

"Yes," Lily nodded, though her mind remained on Harry and what connection he may have inadvertently forged with Voldemort; "As employees, it's mandatory, isn't it? You'll be there?"

"I will. Will you be bringing the children?"

Lily got a little smile, unable to help herself at the way he said it - at the way it sounded – before she nodded; "I think so. It's safe, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Severus' lips twitched; "The Dark Lord is rather…frustrated, shall we say, by the new measures placed upon the Foundation's protections. Thus far, no weakness in the defences have been found."

"Well. At least some places are still safe," she said, before she gave him a smile; "The four of us all together in one room. You think we can handle it?"

Severus got a smile then, a real one, even if it were brief.

"We shall have to be on our guard."

"Oh," Lily grinned, shaking her head, before taking his face in her hands; "Of course."

She kissed him, deeply, and his hands came up to hold her wrists; as if to stop or hold her closer, she wasn't sure. And he got another little smile when they drew back, their faces still close as he simply looked back at her, breathing a sigh through his nose.

And then he pressed his lips to her cheek – "Tomorrow" – before he went by her to leave.

"G'night."

* * *

The Foundation was busier than ever.

Swarms of people spilled out onto the grounds either in rows or congregated in groups, waving their tickets and filling the air with their laughter and chatter, as they waited to be screened and granted access to the Gala that would reopen the facility to the public once more.

If any were concerned in light of what had happened at New Year, one wouldn't know it from the hordes of people pilling in through the gates.

Severus headed down the office corridors, making his way to Regulus' office through his own – lest he be spotted – determined to speak with him before the festivities began.

He went to their adjoining door, not bothering to knock before flinging it open, and _– of course! –_ Regulus quickly sprung apart from the woman he'd been tangled up with, in his office, having a _fine_ time of it while the party that _he_ insisted be thrown was about to begin.

"Miss Bradbury," Severus greeted her, doing his best not to roll his eyes at the scene before him, as both straightened up themselves and their clothing.

"Can I help you, Severus?" Regulus asked, lifting his eyes to the ceiling with a grin on his face.

"Yes, you can," Severus said, without preamble; "Business that cannot wait."

"I'll just –" Julia indicated at the door and Regulus gave her a little smile – with the eyes of a complete idiot in love – as she made her departure.

"I thought that was done," Severus said, as he pulled up the chair opposite the desk and took a seat.

"Not so much so, anymore," Regulus said, walking almost with a bounce – not unfamiliar but it had been a while since Severus had seen it – before he took the seat opposite, on the other side of the desk, raising his eyebrows; "Is something wrong? Narcissa? Has she –"

"This is not about your cousin," Severus quickly diverted the subject, not willing to be drawn into another of Regulus' guessing games as to what the Dark Lord had assigned Draco to do – and why his cousin was losing her mind over it – turning the focus to the much more pressing matter of; "Mind links. Do you have anything on them?"

"Mind links?"

"Yes. The Research Centre is particularly under stocked on that area of inquiry; I thought you might have something on it in your personal stores."

"Is this about the information I gave to Lily? The horcruxes –"

"This has nothing to do with horcruxes nor your ridiculous quest for sainthood."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but he did not look annoyed nor nearly so agitated as he had done in recent weeks, getting a grin instead as he leaned back in his chair and indicated the bookshelf; "Everything I have, Severus, is yours. Help yourself."

Severus got to his feet, going to look and retrieve any volumes that may be of use that might explain what was going on between Harry and the Dark Lord.

"Have you heard about this movement that's rising?" Regulus asked from behind him, after a few minutes of silence, drawing Severus' eyes back over his shoulder in his direction.

Regulus was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the desk, as he read through the paper – Elijah Greengrass' paper, in fact – lifting his eyes to Severus; "The 'One World' movement, that our colleagues have been talking about. Apparently, it has been rather inspiring. Particularly among the youths."

"I have heard nothing of it."

Regulus cleared his throat, dictating part of the passage.

"- how can one expect any different than fear and mistrust – a breeding ground for hate and violence – if we are to rely upon an enforcement of segregation, casting a veil between worlds –" Regulus cut off, with a smirk, rolling his eyes almost fondly; "Sounds like something my son –"

A knock at the door drew both their attention, and Regulus tossed the paper aside; "Come in."

Cornelia stuck her head around the door, meeting his eyes first shooting him a bright smile; "Oh, hello, Severus. Hey Boss, think there's gonna be a riot down here if you don't get up on that stage and get this thing started like, an hour ago."

Regulus chuckled, getting to his feet; "On my way."

Cornelia smiled and left, the door clicking shut behind her, as Regulus made his way over to him – slapping him on the back when he got to his side – and shot him a grin; "Ready for this?"

Severus glanced at him, and it was difficult not to smile or smirk in turn at the grin and the – entirely unexpected – return of the spark in his friend's eyes that had been absent for quite some time, now, and he inclined his chin.

"I shall forgo the _opening address_ , Regulus. Do try not to break the stage with the swelling of your head; there's only so much weight it can take."

Regulus laughed, then, and nodded; "And _you_ , do try and join us, sometime; don't keep your head stuck in these books all afternoon. I saw a certain three people on arrival that you'd be quite happy to see, I imagine."

"It is best that we are not seen together; not even two, nevermind the four of us."

Severus piled up the books he had selected, making his way in the direction of his own office; "I shall attend. In the meantime, you ought to not keep your _adoring –"_ Severus rolled his eyes; "- public waiting."

Regulus snickered, as he pulled open and headed out through the door.

* * *

Regulus headed in the direction of the ballroom, a spring in his step and a smile on his lips, as he rounded the corner of the office corridors.

Suddenly he ran into another – one of many others – who were spilled and bustling about in the entrance lobby.

The person – the boy – met his eyes and Regulus' eyes widened in recognition.

"Draco?"

His little cousin looked at him, uncertainly, as if he didn't recognize him for a moment. Then he nodded; "Hey Uncle Reg."

Regulus' smile widened; "Well. Look at you!" He stepped towards him, drawing the boy in for a hug.

He could feel Narcissa's son's uncertainty as he hugged him back, as if he wasn't sure if such an act would be permitted. He was obviously under watch or orders or _ranked_ , already.

The thought made Regulus sick, but he forced himself to maintain a smile as he drew back, grinning at him, the boy that he'd once known so well.

"Oh, you are the spitting image of your dad, young man."

Draco got a forced smile, as if he hated the comparison; "Everyone says that."

"I heard you've taken up pride of place on the Quidditch Team; Seeker. I'm familiar with the spot. Quite the talk of the game in my time, if I do say so myself."

Draco's smile got a little wider, and he snickered a little, under Regulus' easy tone and grin.

"Yeah. I know. They still use some of your tactics in the team."

"That right?"

Draco nodded.

The two of them looked at one another and Regulus could feel Draco's unease rising with each second that passed, his eyes glancing around them, as if he were worried to be noticed with him.

Regulus gave a small nod. Knowing – enough of – what was going on.

"Well. Don't be a stranger, Draco. My office is always open."

Draco met his eyes then and Regulus felt his stomach jump at the look he saw in them. So haunted and then hopeful, for the briefest of seconds, and far too _familiar._ He could have been looking in a mirror, fifteen years ago. Lost and terrified and nowhere to turn.

Regulus nodded, speaking more quietly but assuredly, going for that spark of hope he could see in his cousin's eyes; "For anything."

Draco drew in a breath, giving a little nod in turn – that he understood – and then Regulus caught sight of Cornelia at the door to the ballroom, waving him over, impatiently, and he smiled and nodded, waving a hand at her.

He turned his attention back to Draco, giving his shoulder a squeeze; "It was good to see you."

"You too, Uncle Reg."

Regulus headed into the party.

* * *

Harry and Malachi passed the glass of firewhiskey between them, taking a sip each, from where they were hidden behind the curtain.

The curtain that was abruptly thrown aside as Daphne appeared, coming in beside them, taking a drink from another glass as a younger girl that Harry didn't think he recognised followed her in.

"My father loved the article, Mac," Daphne said, before she pointed a finger of the hand that held the glass at the new girl; "This is my sister; Astoria."

The girl smiled at them, looking a bit shy, and eyed her sister's glass and Daphne handed it over, giving her a drink.

"He wondered if you could do another; try and put some pacifist spin on the next one. It'd fit a bit better with the paper and I think he thinks you can –" she giggled; "Turn the tide of favour against You-Know-Who with the Statute Opposers, if you get it right."

Malachi scoffed; "Yeah right. It's just kids that are reading it."

Harry wasn't so sure about that. Already, a few times today, he'd heard people – grown people – having conversations amongst themselves about it. The rising One World movement that had already been ignited by the two articles already published, the first of the peaceful demonstrations taking place that very day.

He wondered if Ron and Hermione had actually gone.

"Well, I think it's very good," Astoria said, smiling at Malachi, admiringly, and Malachi looked both flattered and uncomfortable at the girl's adoration and Harry snickered, sharing a grin with Daphne.

"Um. Well, yeah. That was kinda my point – you're – how old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Only _just_ ," Daphne said, immediately, and her sister shot her a look to shut up at the obvious implication that she was off-limits.

"How can a Statute Opposer be a pacifist, anyway?" Harry asked, still not entirely grasping the Greengrass' whole stance on the war; "Your father really thinks he can fight a war with his paper? Sounds cushy. Someone has to fight."

"What good is it resorting to violence when half the people just end up dead, Potter?" Daphne said, sharing a look with Astoria, as if the response were obvious.

"Well, what good is it standing around with a quill when someone's pointing a wand at you?" Harry retorted, pointing out something that actually _was_ the obvious, and Malachi chuckled, nodding in agreement, before shooting a glance and a shrug Daphne's way – he has a point.

"And, you know, it's not as if you haven't raised your wand in combat before," Harry pointed out, giving her a grin; "You did it for Malachi."

Malachi glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

Daphne lifted her eyes to the ceiling; "Self-preservation, Potter. Zabini threatened me. And I _did_ try to talk him down, in case you've forgotten."

"No," Harry shook his head; "Nope," he tapped the side of his head; "All up here."

He remembered it _well._

The day Malachi's prissy, pretty pest of a friend had suddenly stood up and gone toe-to-toe with one of her _own_ Housemates against the very rules – every rule, actually, that she professed to follow – just to get them to back off of Malachi.

It was…enlightening.

"And being a pacifist doesn't mean that you just stand about and let people hurt the people you care about," Daphne said, rolling her eyes; "Obviously."

"Obviously," Harry nodded, getting a grin, and he could see Malachi rolling his eyes at his side at his attempt at flirting – wait, flirting?

What?

"I'll come up with something," Malachi said, before Harry could embarrass himself further, agreeing to write another article; "Can I get it to you next week?"

"Yeah, next week is great. Meet you here?"

Malachi nodded.

* * *

By the time Severus stepped into the Ballroom, the Gala was in full swing, and he was immediately greeted by the smiles and _'welcome backs'_ of his colleagues, and he nodded at them in turn as he made his way in the direction of the bar where – he was certain – he would remain for the entirety of the event, for he had no wish for dancing, games or whatever else Regulus and Narcissa had opted to put on for the event.

He nodded at the barkeeper – Shaw – when he reached it; "Firewhiskey, Shaw. Double."

"Coming right up, Severus."

Cornelia approached first with a smile and a hug, a proper greeting this time, rather than the one in Regulus' office.

"Oh, it's been far too long since I saw your face, Severus."

Severus got a little smile, supposing that to be the case, for he'd spent the majority of his time since the Foundation had closed down either at Hogwarts or by the Dark Lord's side and he nodded; "Since we have seen anyone, I would imagine."

"Oh no, not all of us have been lounging around on our behinds at home, the boss saw to that."

"Well, I suppose I should count myself lucky, then," Healer Clay said, appearing at Cornelia's side; "I quite enjoyed the time off, if I do say so, myself."

They carried on in that way, others joining and leaving, as the first hour ticked on by and, as it did, Severus caught sight of those who meant just a little bit more to him than mere colleagues and acquaintances.

Lily was at a table with Julia Bradbury, the two of them laughing and talking animatedly, over glasses of wine.

Harry flitted in and out from behind a curtain at the door until, finally, he emerged completely with Malachi, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass – empty drinks glasses in hand, no less – and Grace pounced upon him, immediately, when he did and he and Malachi took her out into the gardens where the children's festivities were set up.

Regulus, he could see, flitted on by speaking to anyone and everyone who crossed his path – high on life, this week, apparently – and the women, Severus noticed, were getting particular attention from him this day, which made him roll his eyes.

"Oh, Lily!" Cornelia suddenly said, grabbing for her as she appeared on her way to the bar; "Oh, I have definitely missed this face!" she announced, pulling Lily into a much more rambunctious hug than she'd given Severus, before she shot a grin in Severus' direction.

"Well, this one, Severus, is the one to watch right now. Healer Quentin has been more than a little impressed with her findings on the new Gryffith Project we are just about to launch. Thank goodness you found her when you did."

"Oh –" Lily was blushing at the praise, waving a hand.

"Years ago now, Cornelia," Severus said, careful not to let too much pride show at Lily's success – he was, after all, only a _mentor_ in their eyes – and he inclined his head; "I should like to work with you again, Mrs Potter. Should the occasion call for it."

"Oh, we should _make_ the occasion call for it; you've been out of the action long enough, Severus," Clay said, then, enthusiastically – clearly keen to pull him back into the fray a bit more than the little he had been – and Severus just nodded, politely.

"When time allows."

At that moment, an announcement on stage called for as many as possible to come forth and join in with the next activity – what it was, Severus did not care – and Clay, Heart and the others who'd joined him went to do so.

Lily stayed behind with him.

She shot him a smile, taking the opportunity of being physically dragged to his side to speak to him; "You're in your element here, you know."

"Hm," Severus said, fighting a smile and lifting his glass to his lips, before he lifted his chin in Shaw's direction; "Another double and a drink for Mrs. Potter, Shaw. The house."

He said it to put him to work, Shaw's eyes having been upon them where he stood, and Lily gave Severus a smile when they were – seemingly – no longer observed.

"I see the children are enjoying the festivities."

"Oh, always. Grace, especially, is glad to be out of the house. I think the time at Hogwarts has quite ruined her, actually. She is desperate for the magic and what with…" Lily trailed off, shaking her head, as if she didn't want to think and remind them both of what had transpired earlier that year.

"Mummy!"

Lily looked sharply in the direction of Grace's voice, as Severus shifted, immediately uncomfortable – but to move away would look suspicious, now that Shaw had returned and was pouring the drinks he'd ordered – and he did his best to turn himself, as inconspicuously as possible, so that his daughter would not notice him.

"Look!" Grace held up a stick of a frozen ice treat when she stopped, right beside him, her eyes for her mother; "The lady at the door gave one to me and Harry, it's _really_ yummy. There's ice cream, too. And frozen fruit squashies. There's a fairground outside too, you know. Oh, can we go on the horses – Hello Professor Snape!"

Her voice ended louder, higher with excitement, when she looked up and took notice of who it was at her side and it was all Severus could do not to cringe when those in the near vicinity turned – briefly, he supposed – to look with affectionate smiles at his daughter's delighted greeting. His colleagues, in particular, looked amused that a child should greet him with such enthusiasm.

He cleared his throat, inclining his head and careful not to meet her eyes; "Good afternoon, Miss Potter."

"I haven't seen you for so long! Have you had a good summer?"

"I have. Thank you. And yourself?"

"It's been rubbish!"

"Grace!" it was Harry's voice, then, and he quickly hurried up to them, looking as frazzled by Grace's presence at her parents' side – in public – as Severus felt. He put both hands on her shoulders, as if to drag her away; "I thought you wanted to go on the carousel?"

"Later, Harry," Grace shrugged his hands off her shoulder, impatiently; "Professor Snape is here and I have stories to tell him!"

"Professor Snape doesn't care about your stories, Grace."

Severus lifted his eyes to the ceiling at the extremely vocal exchange.

"Yes, he does, he's my friend! Aren't you, Professor Snape?" she looked at him, innocently, before she turned back to Harry and said; "You're just jealous because all the professors give you rows all the time for not following the rules."

"No, they don't," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, they do. I heard them; remember, that time, two days before I came home. Professor McGonagall –"

"How do you know about _that?"_

"Because I was watching you."

"You mean you were spying."

"Nope. Not spying. You can't prove it."

"Mum," Harry lifted up his hands, looking frustrated and asking for her intervention; "Spying. It's a no, right?"

"I don't spy. I look. And _observe_. Like _sensible_ people do."

Severus' lips twitched, then, unable to help himself, at what was obviously a repetition of something Grace had heard from one of the teachers at Hogwarts.

His eyes met Lily's as Harry and Grace continued to bicker back and forth – like any normal siblings would do – at their side and Lily got a small smile and he realised, when she did, that she was thinking the same as him.

That this – _this_ – was what they were fighting for.

Severus very nearly smiled.

But then his eyes caught those of Narcissa Malfoy up ahead.

Watching them.

And Severus lowered his eyes, the warmth that had risen quickly snuffed out – instead, he felt himself go cold – and he met Lily's eyes again, could see that she'd noticed, too, and she reached out, drawing the children back in the direction she'd come from, as they continued to bicker.

Away from him and the harm that any association of being near him would bring.

* * *

Lily sent Harry and Grace back outside with Malachi, more than a little unnerved by the eyes of Narcissa Malfoy upon them earlier that day, and it took a good hour or so of jokes and laughter with Julia at the table before she finally felt herself fully relax again.

"What about St Mungo's?" Lily asked, taking a sip from the wine glass she held, glancing in Julia's direction; "Will you be going back there, now that you've turned down the Touchman Institute?"

Julia's eyes had been upon Regulus – who was hovering around the bar, having been laughing freely with a little congregation of the Counselling Staff a moment ago, and was now moving to on to flirt and wink at one of the interns – and she nodded, before shaking her head, meeting Lily's eyes.

"Eh, no. I mean. Yeah. I have a meeting on Monday; they'd already filled my spot for the duration. I can stay on sabbatical for the couple of years or if I say the word, they'll give 'em –"

She made a cutting motion at her throat, eyes lifting upwards, and Lily laughed.

Julia's eyes went back in Regulus' direction and, at that moment, he happened to glance at them – at Julia – and his eyes lingered, the playful smile he'd been offering the masses dimming, warming to something just for her, but then a woman came up, tapping him on the shoulder, and he turned giving her one of his flirtatious greetings.

Julia cleared her throat, crossing her legs as she leaned back, her eyes going over to Severus, this time, where he was a few feet away from Regulus.

Severus was at the bar engaged in conversation with Cornelia and Mortimer Littlewood not having quite the same fun that Regulus was having, no, but he looked entirely at ease – as he had done, earlier, despite what had happened – as they spoke amongst themselves. At one point he even, almost, smiled while their co-workers laughed.

"So," Julia said, her eyes back on Regulus; "Let me see if I have this _right_ ; you and I are just supposed to sit back here in the shadows, while the _guys_ we're pretending we do not know are off having a right old good time out in the world?"

Lily got a smile, eyeing Julia out the corner of her eye, and she pushed another full glass of wine from the middle of the table in Julia's direction.

"That _is_ the way of it, I'm afraid, Honey."

Julia took a sip, meeting Lily's eyes, and she had a little smile of her own then.

"Mummy!"

Grace hurried over, her smile bright; "Mummy, there's owls outside! For petting!"

Lily put an arm around her where she stood; "Did you want me to come out so you could see them?"

"No," Grace shook her head, smiling widely; "Malachi already took me. But I wanted to come back, now. To find Daddy."

Lily's felt her stomach flip; "Your daddy isn't here, Grace."

"He was before, did he go away?" Grace asked, innocently, eyes upon her with a look of complete trust; "Before Mr. Black took me outside – they're friends, you know, Mummy!"

Lily cleared her throat, realizing it was the memory from last year, at the Foundation, and she drew in a breath, keeping herself calm when she realized it; "What does Daddy look like, Grace?"

Grace hesitated, looking searchingly at the ceiling.

And then she frowned, shaking her head; "I don't remember."

"There you are," Harry appeared, putting his hand on Grace's shoulder; "Come on. I told you we'd go in the Carousel."

"I think _you're_ the one who really wants to go on it, Harry. You should ask Daphne –" she blew a kiss at him and Harry rolled his eyes; "I thought Malachi wanted to do that throwing thing?"

"Malachi's with his dad," Harry said, and they all looked in the direction of the bar where the two of them were fooling about and laughing; "Come on."

Harry and Grace left, and Lily noticed Julia's eyes linger upon Grace for a second, before glancing in Severus' direction. She cleared her throat, eyes going back to Regulus and Malachi.

They were smiling widely at one another, Regulus flinging his arm around his son's shoulders to turn him, before he addressed another group that passed by and he pointed at Malachi, proudly, as he said something and one of the people – the guests – smiled and reached out to shake Malachi's hand.

Julia got a smile.

"It gets easier," Lily said, drawing Julia's eyes back to her for a moment, and when they looked back in Regulus' direction Malachi was stepping away and Regulus was quickly accosted by one of the younger researchers, who flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot him a flirtatious look.

Regulus, as he always did, easily joined in the flirtation.

"Pretty soon, you won't even have to think about it," Lily said with a shrug; "It'll just become habit."

Julia met Lily's eyes with a smile, raising an eyebrow; "A way of life?"

"A way of life," Lily laughed, giving a nod.

Though she was glad that Severus, at least, appeared to be conducting himself with far more restraint than his friend, where he was still up at the bar, having now turned away from the colleagues he'd been speaking to order another drink.

Regulus stepped up beside him, slapping him on the back and saying something at his side as he leaned against the woodwork, lifting a finger at Shaw to order a drink of his own.

Julia got a slow smile then, a mischievous one, and she lifted the glass of wine Lily had pushed her way, finishing it off in one gulp.

And then she stood up, leaning down and speaking close to Lily's ear - "Screw that" – and headed in the direction of the bar.

* * *

"You are aware, I presume, that your _beloved_ is in the room," Severus said, conversationally – though quietly – as Regulus joined him.

"She knows how it is," Regulus said, with a shrug – in a _very_ good mood, right now, the best he'd been in a long, long time – before he added; "Misdirection. Part of the act."

"You are asking for trouble, Regulus."

"What more trouble could I possibly get myself into?"

A finger tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, coming face to face with Julia.

He smiled, instantly, unable to help himself; "Miss Bradbury."

He attempted to do a quick mental calculation, figuring out whether or not he had flirted with enough female guests thus far that to do so with Julia, now, wouldn't draw any unnecessary notice.

"Dance with me, Mr. Black."

Regulus got a fond smile at the repeated request.

That would be pushing it too far.

He had been working, actually, with that goal in mind but she had approached much too soon, not nearly enough groundwork laid for such a risk.

"Oh. A pleasure that would be, Miss Bradbury; but I'm afraid –"

Regulus was cut off by the sudden, utterly unexpected press of Julia's lips closing over his, right there in the middle of the ballroom.

Regulus seized her by the shoulders – far too late to avoid an audience – and pulled her back, eyes wide, his playful demeanour dropping, instantly.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing, Black?"

"We – you – we can't. Anyone could see us – _everyone_ could see us!"

And, indeed, several eyes had turned their way at what was – quite obviously – an exchange between lovers but Julia was entirely undisturbed by the fact. Rather, she rolled her eyes and said:

"Oh, let them look. I want the whole damn world to know how hopelessly in love I am with Regulus Black."

Regulus blushed to the roots of his hair, the statement not at all made quietly, and he ducked his head – " _Julia" –_ as he glanced around at the amused eyes of the curious employees that were watching them, now, without shame.

Severus, beside him, was smirking into his drink; shoulders shaking in amusement as he lifted it for a sip.

Julia stepped towards him, her eyes entirely for him and he looked back at her, aware that whatever she was about to say – he knew – it was going to be something _big_.

"You told me you didn't want me to wait for you; well, fine, I'm not waiting. I'll take you now, warts and all. You and that damn cute kid of yours."

It was then that Regulus noticed Malachi in the crowd, at the bar, and his son met his eyes, getting a little smile of his own.

"You keep saying that I need the world to make me happy," Julia went on, drawing his gaze back to her, as she shook head; "But I don't. I know that all I really need is you. And I'd need you whether I'm here, or on the other side of this planet."

Regulus swallowed as, suddenly, it felt as if they two were the only two people in the room – that they were not surrounded by _hundreds_ – and his eyes locked on her and her alone.

"I am all in. And I will _stand_ with you, Regulus Black, if you'd still have me."

He drew in a breath, bracing himself for what he was, quite certain, was about to come next.

She didn't disappoint him.

She never did.

And her smile was small and coy and true; her voice quieter when she said it, as if she didn't already know the answer.

"Will you marry me?"

The breath Regulus had drawn in escaped him then and he looked away, quite unable to believe his eyes and his _ears_ and that this was actually _happening_ and he reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, when he met her eyes once more, shyly.

_Shyly._

And Julia smiled back at him, just waiting. Waiting and _knowing._ Because she knew. She already knew the answer. She knew it would never be _no_.

He had – stupidly, he'd thought – asked her first.

The idea no longer felt so stupid.

They, neither of them, would do it any other way.

All or nothing.

Regulus got a smile then, one that quickly became a little puff of laughter and he nodded.

Nodded, and then shook his head in amazement at her.

His smile widened as he stepped towards her, taking her face in his hands as he drew in a breath, looking down at her.

" _Yes_."

He kissed her, then, right there in the middle of the ballroom – in front of all those who had stopped and come to look – and Shaw rang the bell behind the bar as whistles and cheers and thumping on the tables and the floor broke out, a din filling the ballroom above the music, congratulating his – or, rather, _her –_ successful proposal.

Regulus and Julia laughed, their foreheads pressed together, before Regulus fleetingly met the beaming glances of his employees as he lifted his eyebrows, shooting them one of his cheekiest, cockiest grins, before he caught Julia's hand, tugging her in the direction of the dance floor.

Finally giving her that dance she had been asking for.

While she had given him something he had always – _always_ – wanted, but never, not in a million years dreamed he would ever have.

And when the music changed, they danced another.

And another again.

For as long as the night went on.


	72. August 1995: The Black Wedding

"Alright, so, when is this gonna be?"

Regulus grinned before he answered her, as he sat down next to Julia on the couch in his – soon to be _their_ – living room, the morning after what had turned out to be a rather splendid day indeed, with roll of parchment and quill in hand.

"Better be quick. My days are numbered -" Julia looked at him, sharply " - No time to waste."

He winked, handing over the items.

Julia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and she flicked his nose with the feathers on the end of the quill.

"Any more jokes like that and they will be numbered, Black."

Regulus' playful grin dimmed somewhat as Julia went down to writing on the parchment. He reached for it, taking it back from her hands for a second; "Listen."

Julia met his eyes.

"We're not going to have much time," Regulus told her – needing her to know the truth of it – and he shook his head; "You know how it is. We'll be lucky to even have a year. I don't want you going into this without really knowing what you're getting yourself in for."

Julia looked back at him. But if his words caused alarm, she didn't show it, staying strong under the unwelcome truth. She drew in a breath, drawing up her knees beneath her on the couch to turn to face him.

"I'd take a year. I'd take a week. I've spent much too long wasting time," she got a little grin, tilting up her chin to look at him; "For the first time in my life, _you_ have made me regret something, Black. That I spent three months apart from you, when we should have been doing this."

Regulus got a smile.

Julia smiled in turn, giving a shrug; "And I'm not going to spend another minute of our time hiding from that."

Regulus' smile widened and he touched his forehead to hers.

"Well. In that spirit –" he handed the quill back over.

"Alright, you want it quick, Black? August 31st. We want Malachi there."

"Yes, we do."

"Who else?"

"Everyone."

" _Everyone_?" she laughed.

"You wanted to tell the world, Miss Bradbury," Regulus said, eyes twinkling; "So, let's tell the world. Subject to _rigorous_ security screening, of course."

Julia's shoulders dropped in disbelief, but her enthusiasm for the idea was there in her smile; "You think we can pull together a full-scale wedding in less than four weeks?"

"Certainly," Regulus said, with full confidence in the fact; "The Foundation - oh - it was made for events like this; we have the venue, the caterers, the guests – all we need is some entertainment and, believe you me, Miss Bradbury, I have plenty of connections on that front."

"Oh. I can well believe it."

"Then it's settled."

"Settled it is. Three weeks."

"Three long weeks."

* * *

Malachi finished up writing the title of the article that Mr. Greengrass had asked for, both excited and nervous by the prospect of something like this actually being printed much less anticipated by all those who had taken to the streets the day before to protest on behalf of his - _his_ \- words and thoughts on muggles and the Statute.

He eyed this one. The most ambitious yet.

And he knew, once it was out there, for all to see...well, it didn't take a _genius_ to know that Voldemort wouldn't like it. But, then, that was what Daphne's dad had asked for – what his paper was all about, defying the war – and so he drew in a breath, as if that might steel his nerves.

He finished off penning the title.

Eyed it where it lay in front of him upon his desk.

_Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of You-Know-Who._

He skimmed the article, getting a little grin to himself at the first line.

_The greatest threat of our generation to the necessary Statute of Secrecy reformation is You-Know-Who, himself._

There was a knock at the door to his bedroom, making him jump, and he turned just as his dad's head popped around the door.

His dad shot him a smile, still in the same good mood that he had been all week, now, and Malachi immediately smiled back; beyond relieved at the change in him.

"Mind if I come in, Son?"

"Um, no," Malachi waved a hand, indicating he do so, and he turned, as casually as possible straightening up the books and parchments on his desk so that he could slip what he'd just written out of sight.

He turned, just as his dad took a seat on the bed behind him, raising his eyebrows; "What's up?"

His dad gave a brief smile, averting his eyes for a second, before he cleared his throat; "Um. Well. I thought that you and I should talk. About last night."

Malachi's lips twitched, feeling mischievous now; "Oh?"

"Yes," his dad nodded; "It seems that Julia … is going to be moving in with us now."

Malachi nodded, slowly.

"Yeah, I kinda figured."

His dad held his look, the two of them both fighting their smiles.

"So?" his dad raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

His dad rolled his eyes.

"So, how do you feel about that, Son?"

Malachi leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the side and lifting his eyes to the ceiling, in a show of thinking about it.

His dad rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow at him.

And when a suitable amount of time had passed that Malachi – and his dad – could no longer contain their smiles, Malachi lifted up a hand as if in swear and said, in mock-seriousness.

"I hereby declare that Miss Julia Bradbury has _passed_ the Stepmother Admissions Test –"

His dad snorted, chuckling where he sat.

" – and she is to be granted full access to our life and home."

His dad smiled at him, fondly; "Yeah?"

Malachi dropped his hand – and the act along with it – giving him a smile and a nod; "Yeah. I'm happy for you dad. I am."

Anyone that could snap his dad out of the awful – death-is-just-around-the-corner-for-me – funk that his dad had been in all summer was welcome, as far as Malachi was concerned. And, thankfully, he _did_ like Julia. As far as he could tell she wasn't going to be one of the wicked stepmothers from the muggle pictures – well, the one, so far – that he'd seen this summer that would be locking him up in the attic or something and pretending he didn't exist.

But he met his dad's eyes, saying with a frown; "What's different, though? Didn't she say no?"

"Nothing and yes," his dad conceded, giving a shrug; "She's chosen this."

"Surprised you'd let her," Malachi admitted, even though he didn't – was glad – his dad hadn't turned her away and decided to continue his stewing and death-prep; "You'd lock me up in a dungeon before you'd let me do something like that."

His dad smiled.

"Julia is a grown woman, Son. She knows her own mind," he leaned forward; "You, my Son, are _entirely_ under my influence."

"You said earlier this summer that you're a terrible influence."

"Then enjoy it –" they chuckled; "- while it lasts. You never know, husband-hood just might make me more responsible – respectable, even – and you could find yourself attending garden parties and the races next year, as I was forced to as a child, instead."

They laughed. Malachi could only imagine his dad – and his Uncle Sirius' – thoughts and _behaviour_ at being dragged along to such events.

"I don't know, Son, I suppose after a certain point, there comes a time where – if you believe in something enough – you just have to stand up. Tell the world who you are."

Malachi met his eyes at that.

"Like…find a voice?"

"Find your voice. Yep," his dad said, nodding exaggeratedly, with a grin, and Malachi smiled.

"Right. Well. I'm…you've got my…blessing or whatever, Dad. Just tell me when and I'm there."

"August 31st."

"Wow. That's soon!"

"Well, we wanted it all done and dusted for you going back to school. And Christmas is a bit of a while to wait."

Malachi snickered; "It's four months."

"Far too long," his dad said, grinning, and Malachi smiled.

"Count me in, Dad."

His dad reached for him, pulling him into a hug, and Malachi willingly went.

"Right. Call you down for dinner, alright?"

Malachi nodded, and his dad left the room, just as happy as he'd been when he'd entered it, and Malachi turned back to his desk.

He pulled out the article he'd written, eyeing it once more.

The title.

_Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of You-Know-Who._

He drew in a breath and reached for a quill.

Scored through the 'You-Know-Who' at the end and replaced it; and he re-read the new title.

Got a little smirk as he did.

_Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of The_ Great _Lord Voldemort._

* * *

Severus followed Lily out of the basement.

"Regulus sent a Patronus; they're running a little late. But he shouldn't be too long, now; Harry."

Severus rolled his eyes. Well, of course Harry _would_ defy his specific instructions not to attend the Black premises until he got this mind link under control.

"Where is Grace?"

"With Remus," Lily said, casting a charm to boil the water on the stove; "And Tonks."

Severus fought a smirk at that.

"Ah yes."

Lily got a smile and a roll of the eyes at his tone.

"Have an opinion, do you?"

"Not at all. She was an engaging child – albeit somewhat graceless – and one of my more promising students, in spite of the fact," Severus said, and Lily shot him a look; "And her mother, indeed, was an animable woman. A good friend, if you remember. And peer."

Lily released a breath that could have been either a laugh or exasperation – or both – and shook her head, as she accioed a couple of mugs.

"Well, I think they're very sweet," Lily said, with a little smile to herself, as she set about making tea for them both; "You and I cannot have the monopoly on all things right and good, after all, can we?"

Severus got a smirk and she shot him a grin.

All things good, indeed. He glanced around the kitchen – the home – that he had not been in for months save for his brief stand at the door to the basement some weeks before.

"How long has Harry spent at the Black residence?"

"Oh, they're not at the house."

Severus frowned.

"Oh?"

"Regulus took the boys for a dress robe fitting. No doubt the two of them will have convinced him to partake in some mischievous activity that's ended up delaying them."

"I doubt that would take much convincing. Dress robes for what?"

"For the wedding, of course," Lily said, with a laugh in her voice as if the answer were obvious.

Severus rolled his eyes; "Oh."

He turned and made his way to the table.

"Have an opinion on that as well, do you?"

"Only that it is a disaster in the making."

"The wedding?"

"The marriage," Severus clarified, pulling out a chair and taking a seat; "They will never be happy together."

"Passed your judgement on that already, have you?" Lily raised an eyebrow, eyeing him where he sat; "You don't even know Julia."

"I know Regulus."

"Well," Lily shrugged, getting a smile; "I've seen them together. He loves her."

"I'm sure that he does," Severus conceded, before he shook his head; "But that has never been enough for him. Regulus – once despised – is now adored by the masses and yet he still cannot find peace. He will not find it here."

"Well _you_ are just all sunshine and rainbows today, Sir," Lily – like everyone else these days – was in a remarkably good and teasing mood, and she raised her eyebrows with a smile.

Severus' own lips twitched beneath it; "I watched him try and fail at this for years with Malachi's mother."

And the risk of a smile died with it – that remembrance – the death of Evelyn Redway and all that Regulus had put her through in the lead up to it.

"Well, maybe he wants to try again," Lily said, approaching with the prepared mugs and setting them down on the table beside him; "Do better this time."

"It is not done out of choice or maliciousness, Lily, he always tries," Severus shook his head before meeting her eyes; "Mark my words, your friend has just ruined her life."

Lily looked down at him but rather than become grim in acknowledgement of his words, her smile turned warm, less teasing and more for him, and she said, leaning towards him; "Well. I've heard that one before."

Severus held her look, under her adoring gaze, and then he smiled, glancing away.

Lily gave a little chuckle and stepped closer, taking a seat upon his lap rather than the chair she had been going towards, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Have faith," she said, with that same optimistic smile; "They may just surprise you."

Severus doubted it but he knew that argument was pointless. Only time would tell if the Black marriage would actually hold.

"And it was rather inspiring, don't you think?" Severus' eyes were drawn back to Lily at the change in her tone, and he quickly noticed the twinkle in her eyes; "To declare one's love so passionately in the middle of a crowded ballroom. It must have been incredibly liberating."

Severus looked back at her seriously.

"Don't ever do that, Lily."

Lily burst into fits of giggles, then, upon him and leaned into him and he found himself unable to fight his own smile any longer, under her infectious amusement.

She drew back when she had finally composed herself, smiling down at him with unconcealed affection, and then she leaned down, capturing his lips with her own, kissing him deeply and tightening her arms around his neck.

Severus didn't resist, returning her affections in kind, and his own hands came up to reach for her, drawing her closer.

The kitchen door burst open and shut, suddenly, and the two of them hastily stopped, heads snapping in its direction.

"Um –" Harry was standing there, wide eyed and looking as mortified as Severus felt; "Sorry…I'm…late."

He quickly averted his eyes to stop staring.

"We - um - went to get some stuff – and we did a thing – like – a bachelor thing for Mr. Black's – um – do you want me to wait in the basement?"

Lily smiled at him, getting up off of Severus' lap – much, much more slowly than either he or Harry would have liked – and shook her head; "No, don't be silly. Did you have a good time?"

She sat down in the chair next to Severus, as if Harry being there, in the room, the three of them _together_ in the kitchen and conversing about their child's day, was something entirely ordinary.

"Um…yeah," Harry said, his uncertainty seeming to dim a little now in light of the fact his mother was no longer sitting upon him, and he approached them, becoming more confident in his welcome with each step, until he finally smiled.

"Yeah. Mr. Black took us into York. Muggle York –" he quickly corrected himself; "– we went to one of the markets. Had some food. He took us on a chocolate crawl and then we went down to one of the roller rinks –" his eyes lit up with each activity listed off; "- it was awesome."

"And unnecessarily risky," Severus found himself saying, irritated at Regulus' foolishness.

"Mum said it was fine -"

Severus met Lily's eyes and she got a little smile, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.

"- and Mr. Black and Malachi have been going out all summer. They've been safe."

" _Lucky_ is not the equivalent of _safe_."

Lily rolled her eyes and Harry caught it, the two of them sharing a smile. And Severus was getting the distinct impression that he had now found himself, unwittingly and without warning, in the role of stern and serious father to Lily's lighthearted mothering and he cleared his throat, pushing aside his own warmth at the realization, and got to his feet.

"Mr. Potter, shall we begin?"

"Sure," Harry gave a nod, casting a smile Lily's way; "Wanna watch, Mum?"

"I'll leave the two of you to it," Lily said with a smile.

Severus headed towards the basement, Harry on his heels.

* * *

The weeks between the Gala and the wedding passed in a flurry of excitement.

He and Malachi still had that list and Regulus was still just as determined, even in light of the engagement - perhaps, even, more so, now that it would soon no longer only be the two of them - that he and his son would tick off all of those boxes of his.

They had quarry-karted down a mountain and ziplined through the Snowdonian Valleys.

There had been paintballing, high-tree-top safari trekking, adventure caving, laser-combat and white-water rafting –

It was not the Dark Lord - or even Hopkins - who was going to kill Regulus, no.

It was, in fact, his very own son – Regulus was becoming quite convinced of the fact – as he eyed the leaflet for the activity he had mercifully managed to escape – _bungee-jumping;_ after the experience of jumping out of that plane, there was no chance of _that_ – and he got a little smile, as the summer drew to a close.

The wedding was tomorrow. Hogwarts resumed the next day.

And with the exception of that one last activity, the list was done.

Julia could take Malachi bungee jumping, one day, when this was all over. He snickered at the thought, wondering if he ought to add that to his newly completed Bequeathment Notice.

A dying wish.

The door to his office suddenly burst open with enough force that Regulus was amazed it hadn't left its hinges, before slamming shut, making the nearby bookcase and all upon it rattle under the impact.

Narcissa stormed up to where he sat at his desk, her eyes flashing with fury.

"What have you been saying to my son?"

His eyebrows lifted.

"With an entrance like that, I imagine you already know."

"How dare you. _How dare you, Regulus!_ Do you have any idea what Draco is going through right now?"

"Oh, I think I do," he leaned back in his chair.

"He needs to focus. The last thing he needs is his _insane_ cousin filling his head with ridiculous fantasies!"

"Oh, _I'm_ the insane one? He is a fifteen-year-old boy, Cissy, and you have him joining the ranks. _The ranks!_ You're his mother, for crying out loud!"

"I am thinking about his future."

"You want a look at your son's future. Look at me."

"My son will never be like you. He is not a _fool._ He does not go around strutting and provoking the Dark Lord at every turn. You are not _seriously_ considering marrying this mudblood!"

"OH!" he was on his feet in a flash; " _Oh –_ you are _so_ far out of line, Narcissa!"

"You think he's going to allow it?" she raised her eyebrows; " _Defect_ ; build a Foundation to defy him and marry mud? Well, you keep living in your fantasies, little cousin, but you leave my son out of it. You stay away from him, Regulus."

Narcissa turned on her heel, marching from the room, leaving Regulus glowering and _shaking_ with his own fury in her wake.

* * *

"It was pretty, where you grew up. We should go back there, again, the three of us. I mean…if you wanted me to come –" Malachi broke off, feeling himself reddening a bit, before he shrugged; "I mean, I bet Dad would want to go back."

Julia gave him an easy smile where he sat at the counter, nodding; "Count on it, Kid."

The door to the kitchen opened and his dad walked in.

Looking _annoyed_.

Malachi frowned, noticing the way he forced a smile their way as he greeted them, shrugging out of his cloak and hanging it on the peg.

"Everything alright?" Julia asked, when he stepped up beside her, picking up on his mood as quickly as Malachi had.

His dad looked at her for a second, and, with a sigh, the annoyance in his expression dissolved before he kissed her and Malachi rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the book in front of him on the counter.

"Ask me tomorrow –" he heard his dad say; " – for _tomorrow,_ Miss Bradbury, is when everything will, at last, be right in the world."

Malachi heaved, exaggeratedly, and they laughed, turning his way as he looked back up at them.

"Is he always like this?"

Julia smiled, eyeing his dad, fondly, and shot Malachi a grin - " _I'm afraid so_ " - before she walked up to where Malachi was sitting and lifted up the bag that was on the stool next to him.

"Alright, you two. I'll see you tomorrow."

She slung the strap over her shoulder, and Malachi gave her a smile - his very soon-to-be stepmum - before she went up giving his dad another quick kiss, before heading from the house.

His dad watched after her, eyes lingering even once the door had closed.

"So, what's really the matter?" Malachi asked, once they were alone.

His dad turned, meeting his eyes, and he smiled, shaking his head; "Nothing at all, Son."

His dad cleared his throat, approaching him and leaning on the counter so they were eye to eye.

"Listen. I want you to stand up with me tomorrow at the wedding."

"You mean…as your best man?"

His dad smiled.

"That's right."

"Oh, yeah," Malachi smiled, giving a little shrug; "I mean…Severus can't do it, so…"

"No, Son," his dad said, shaking his head, before he leaned his forehead against his; "You are my _best_ man –" He grabbed him and planted a smacker of a kiss on his cheek and they both laughed.

"Yeah, alright," Malachi nodded, still chuckling; "I'll do it."

"She's going to be with us now, Julia. Are you okay with that?"

"You've asked me already."

"I know. Last minute check in, call it."

"So, what, you'd just call off the whole wedding 'cause I told you to?"

His dad held his look. A rare moment of seriousness, but when Malachi shook his head his dad smiled. As if he wouldn't even allow himself to be happy and have what he wanted, of Malachi should click his fingers and say the word 'no'.

Malachi made sure to reassure him. He would never do that, anyway, but with the way his dad had been earlier that summer still weighing heavily upon him - his resignation that he was doomed to die at any which moment - he didn't want his dad having any doubts that he was actually behind him on this. Completely.

His eyes went to the picture on the wall; of him and his dad and his mum.

It'd need to come down, Malachi knew. But it'd go in his room, Malachi had decided, and the another one would replace it. Future displayed, rather than the past; even if he'd never forget.

"I want this, Dad," Malachi said, with certainty; "For both of us, yeah but… especially for you. I don't ever want you to not be happy. And I'd never want you to be alone."

His dad drew in a breath. And then he reached out a hand, squeezing his shoulder.

"And I don't want that for you, Son."

Malachi lowered his eyes. Knew his dad was talking about Emma.

"Listen," his dad went on, quietly; "You've had a rough year. The worst, I know. But, please, believe me; that is _not_ all that the world has to offer. You've only ever seen the darkness. But there is good and there is light and I promise you, Malachi, you will see it and you will have the _best_ life. I will make sure of it."

"Life with you isn't so bad, Dad. I've never felt like we're living in _darkness_ when it's just me and you."

His dad got a smile.

"Do I have to make a speech?" Malachi asked, dreading the thought.

"No," his dad shook his head, getting a grin and knowing him well enough to know how much he _would not_ want to do that; "You leave the speeches to me."

Malachi breathed a sigh of relief and his dad laughed, before he reached into his robes and pulled out two cans of muggle beer and put them in front of him.

"Shall we toast to our new life, then, Son?"

"Ugh. You got beer?"

"With my dear son in mind! It's the _muggle_ kind."

"The _worst_ kind."

His dad chuckled, and he reached beneath the counter, and pulled up a bottle of firewhiskey.

"One glass. That's all."

"A full glass?"

"Trying your luck, my son," his dad said as he poured it with a smile.

And his dad handed over Malachi's tiny little sip of the drink and poured his own, much more generous portion, and the two of them clinked together.

To the future that began tomorrow.

* * *

"Are you coming to the wedding?" Harry asked between legillimency spells, with a glance at the timepiece.

It had been late, very late, when Snape had arrived that night but he'd actually looked good, for once - for the first time all summer, in fact - and Harry quickly realized the reason for that must be that Hogwarts was starting the day after tomorrow and he couldn't turn back up at the school looking like – well – there was no flattering way to put it, Snape's appearance the past few weeks, so Harry let the thought drift off.

But he was glad, Harry realised - that if school being back in session meant that Snape wasn't going to be being tortured day in and day out - that summer was finally coming to an end.

"I have, indeed, been _drafted_ into attending the event," Snape said, looking none too pleased at the fact, and he inclined his chin; "Ready yourself."

"Drafted by who? Mr. Black?"

Snape met his eyes.

Harry realized, then, that even though Mr. Black would obviously extend Snape an invitation, in actuality Snape had been _ordered_ to attend.

By Voldemort.

Harry swallowed.

"Is something bad gonna happen?"

"The Foundation's defences are sound. The strongest wards available placed upon it; the very same evacuation procedures in place as at New Year. I imagine it goes without saying that if you should see _anything_ in your mind, no matter how small or how, indeed, how alarming, that you are to _immediately_ remove yourself from the function and find either myself or your mother or another adult whom you can trust. Though, do try not to bother the groom, if you possibly can."

Harry rolled his eyes.

His mum was going to be there.

And Snape.

Even his Uncle Remus was going to be there, as Tonks' date; the two of them going fully public, now, rather than just with those closest to them.

There were plenty of people he could turn to, this time, if he needed them.

Harry shrugged; "I won't. So. You think it's safe?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. The Foundation is entirely safe. No doubt the Dark Lord will use the event as a distraction to cause some other such chaos while the rest of us are in attendance at this wedding."

"You're not worried Grace might be all over you again?"

"It shall be your assigned _duty_ , Mr. Potter, to ensure that such an occurrence does not happen again."

"You know how Grace is; if I tried to keep her back she'd just shout at you across the whole room. Least the way it happened she was right beside you, so no one else could hear."

"Your attempts at finding the silver lining are _admirable_ , Mr. Potter," Snape said, eyeing him; "It does not excuse the fact that a mistake was made. As such, I propose that you and I work together to ensure that – never again – will your sister and I been seen together in public. If at all."

"Well. Not _never_ ," Harry rolled his eyes, shooting him a grin.

Snape's lips twitched.

Before anything further could be said, a Patronus suddenly swept into the room.

It was huge and _bright_ and it simply spun through the room, floating up to Snape and stopping, suspended itself in the air right in front of Snape for a moment – a Phoenix – and it said and did nothing but that, before it vanished from sight, as if it were never there.

Snape stared at the place where it once was.

For only a second.

And then he strode to the door, leaving without a word.

* * *

Severus hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts, making as much haste as he could without the risk of drawing the curiosity of the professors who had already returned for the start of the next term, and it took far longer than he would have liked before he burst through the door into Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster's message had made it entirely clear that something was _very_ wrong.

But, of all the scenarios that had played through Severus' mind in the few minutes it had taken for him to leave home and get to Dumbledore's office, none of them even came close to the scene before him when he stepped into the room.

Upon Dumbledore's desk were five items.

It took only a second for Severus to realise what they were.

Regulus' gathered horcruxes.

A destroyed, blackened diary. A cracked locket. A broken ring. A cup. A diadem.

The last two were still intact.

The Sword of Gryffindor lay upon the desk.

And, behind them all, Dumbledore was slumped in his chair; unconscious, beads of sweat rolling down his face and, at the end of his swinging arm, his fingers were blackened and withered, the darkness creeping slowly but steadily upwards and licking his palm.

Severus was at his side in an instant.

* * *

Severus strode down the office corridors of the Foundation.

He pushed any and all thoughts of the night before to the back of his mind. Determined he would think on none of it, today. Nothing of what had been discussed and arranged with Dumbledore and what that – very soon – would all mean.

He went through his own office and into Regulus'; maintaining their vigilance, that they do not appear too close, even if Severus _were_ there to attend this wedding.

Regulus glanced at him over his shoulder, from where he stood in the corner of the room at the mirror; "I wasn't sure if you were going to show."

"And miss this?" Severus raised an eyebrow; "Perish the thought, Regulus."

Regulus got a grin, turning back to the mirror.

"You're on orders?"

"I am."

"Should I be worried?"

"I have scouted the perimeter five times over; assessed the defences. Whatever enchantments Dumbledore and the Ministry combined have placed upon this building, the chances of a repeat of last year's breach are next to nothing."

"The evacuation procedures are in place," Regulus stated, straightening up before he turned and headed towards where Severus stood; "Candlestick porkeys again and the floo is ready to go. I will -"

"You will do nothing, Regulus."

Regulus lifted his chin, with a little frown at the interruption.

"In case you have forgotten, you have a far more imminent imperilment before you – marriage – and your focus should be entirely upon ensuring you get yourself down that aisle."

Regulus snorted, getting a grin then, and reached up to his collar – " _Thanks for the pep-talk, Severus_ ," - he did up the last of his buttons – " _imperilment_ ," – he snickered.

"I'll remember that, when it's your turn."

Severus' lips twitched but even the threat of a smile – something Regulus rarely missed the chance to prod at to attempt to increase his amusement – was not enough to conceal that on his mind was something other than weddings, marriage and the fact that he had half-expected not to even find Regulus here at all, and would have, instead, been forced to relay the news to Lily that the groom had bolted.

"What happened?" Regulus looked serious, all of a sudden, obviously picking up on his brooding; "The Dark Lord, has he –"

"Enough," Severus raised a hand to stop him; "Do not attempt to distract yourself with _dire_ predictions, Regulus –" he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey; "- perhaps some liquid strength to steel your nerves?"

Severus accioed two glasses, beginning to pour the first, but Regulus held up a hand and shook his head – _declining,_ much to Severus' astonishment – and said; "I won't be needing it."

Regulus opened the drawer beneath his desk and pulled out a box, a ring box, that he flicked open with the pad of his thumb to look at the gold bands inside, getting a smile; "Not today."

He met Severus' eyes.

Severus got the slightest – the _slightest_ – of smiles at that; at being faced with Regulus' certainty about this union and he nodded, putting the bottle aside and lifting the single drink he had poured.

"Well, I will."

He downed his own in one swig and Regulus chuckled.

"You'd think you didn't like weddings, Severus."

"What's not to like?" Severus rolled his eyes.

The door to Regulus' office opened without a knock and Malachi came into the room, looking excited and delighted by all that was going on; "Dad, they're ready for you."

Regulus gave his son a smile, putting a hand on his shoulder and tossing over the box. Malachi caught it with a smile and tucked it into his pocket.

And Regulus gave his eyebrows a lift, shooting the two of them a grin.

"Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

"And with these vows, I give you my hand. I give you my love. And I give you myself – "

Regulus' eyes were upon the woman before him as he spoke the words – entirely enraptured and _amazed_ that in mere moments she would be _his_ – and he smiled as he finished, the silk tie that slowly bound around their clasped hands before them tightening with his final words:

" – From this day, henceforth. For as long as we both shall live."

Julia's smile was almost coy, a bite upon her bottom lip, her eyes as all for him as his were for her, as he who conducted the service proclaimed it.

"I declare it before all those here present, that this man and this woman, are now – and forever more – husband and wife."

He gave them both a smile.

"You may kiss your bride."

Regulus smiled widely and Julia's followed suit, a little chuckle escaping her, before he stepped forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her, to the whistles and cheers and applause of all those who bore witness to their union.

And it still felt incredible - surreal, even – to hold her, so openly, before the eyes of all who knew and loved them.

They drew back, smiling and giddy, their foreheads pressed together as they beamed at one another – husband and wife – and he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her tight to his side as they turned and made their way back up the aisle to the smiles and congratulations of those along the rows that had been set up on the grass in the grounds by the maze.

Malachi and Lily followed, Grace at her side smiling and holding her now-empty Flower Girl basket. And Regulus shot a smile over his shoulder at his smiling son, before he looked forward once more at the crowd and his eyes met Severus' where he sat halfway down the rows.

And his friend's lips twitched, his glance approving, it seemed, and Regulus shot him a grin.

Happier than he had ever been in his life.

And as they and their guests – who followed on their heels – quickly spilled out onto the grass behind the chairs, the music and the festivities and the well wishing quickly started up, and he and Julia were immediately pounced on by all that surrounded them, all wanting to shake their hands and wish them well and joke and be merry with them, in the hour or so before they were whisked off by the photographer with their Wedding Party – a small one consisting of Malachi, Lily and Grace – to get their snaps in before the real party began a little while later.

"So, Wife," Regulus whispered in her ear, as the two of them posed in front of the entrance to the maze – which had been decorated beautifully, he must admit, by his cousin for the occasion – and he touched his nose to her temple; "Has it been everything you dreamed it would be?"

"Hm," Julia tilted her head slightly, meeting his eyes; looking at him quite adoringly, indeed, if he did say so himself.

"Excellent! Excellent!" the photographer beamed; "Just keep doing what you're doing, you two!"

They laughed, then, both of them blushing at the reminder of the audience – bashful, it seemed, to have their affections so observed, which Regulus thought a little odd for they, two, extroverts, but then, he supposed, he rarely allowed himself to be _seen_ as such – and they stumbled a little where they stood, Regulus behind her with his arms wrapped around her as they giggled.

"Oh, now that, that it excellent as well!"

Regulus grinned, turning Julia in his arms to face him then, and he touched his forehead to hers and met her eyes.

Julia smiled up at him; not quite so beaming this time. No, this was smaller, one she saved all for him, and with a look in her eyes so earnest and true that it quite nearly took his breath away. In that moment, he could see only her. Only her and all that she had given him and, if he were to _really_ dream – as his cousins and Severus always did accuse him of doing far too much – then he could see it.

A future.

It was something that no one, not ever in his life, had ever given him a glimpse or a hope for. And it felt, for the first time ever, within his grasp.

"I love you, Julia," he murmured, finally speaking the words for the first time; " _Very_ much."

Julia's eyes flicked, slowly, between his, seeming just as blown away by his love for her as _he_ was.

And then she sighed, her hands coming up to his neck, drawing him down, before she kissed him, deeply, and his hands gripped her waist, returning her affections – _her_ love – with all that he had for her, losing himself for a moment until:

"Oh, fantastic! Fantastic!" the photographer proclaimed; "Oh, my best one yet!"

And they laughed into one another's mouths, before drawing back with a roll of their eyes, shooting the photographer a cheeky smile as Regulus hugged her tight.

"Alright, how about we bring in the best man, hm?" the photographer said, indicating in Malachi's direction where he was standing with Grace and Lily, looking mortified at his dad and new stepmum's blatant displays of affection while Grace swayed watching them wistfully where she stood, swinging her basket at her side, and Lily gave them both a smile.

"Um. Are you sure?" Malachi raised an eyebrow; "I mean, I wouldn't want to _interrupt_ or anything."

Regulus chuckled, holding out his arm; "Get over here, Son."

Malachi rolled his eyes, smiling then, and he headed over, getting pulled into both his and Julia's arms as the photographer exclaimed once more;

"Brilliant! Just like that, you three! Picture perfect, you lot are –" _snap, snap_ ; "Now, turn this way, over here –" he moved them over, changing his own footing; "Oh yes. Just like that!"

And the three of them laughed together, as they stumbled into position and posed with their arms around one another - the Foundation in view behind them, now – and they shot him cheeky grins for the next.

"Now _that_ is the money shot, my friends! Absolutely perfect."

* * *

"Uncle Remus!" Harry hugged him, when he finally found him – alone – in the crowd just off the dance floor in the ballroom, where most of the guests had migrated to after the ceremony, and he drew back with a smile; "I've hardly seen you for weeks."

Harry supposed, or he would do, under normal circumstances that the simple explanation for that would be that he'd been tied up – _loved up_ – with his new girlfriend. But Harry could see that Remus looked worn – exhausted, even – and he had scars, little scratches, on his face and the bits of his arms that Harry could see.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

Remus smiled, giving him a nod and squeezing his shoulder, his eyes as warm as they always were for him; "I am quite alright, Harry. I've been…on assignment. You might say things got a little gnarly there for a moment. But as you see; I am entirely well."

"Um. I wouldn't say entirely well, Uncle Remus," Harry said, eyeing him, before he whispered; "Have you been sent to spy on werewolves?"

Remus raised an eyebrow, getting a slight smile – obviously impressed at his guess – and he said; "Sometimes I forget you're not a little boy, so easily diverted anymore."

"I know what's going on in the world, Uncle Remus," Harry told him, feeling uneasy at Remus' basic admittance that his new task _had_ been to run with the werewolves – Harry knew they were not all so warm and approachable as his uncle was – and he shook his head; "You shouldn't have to be with them. You're not…"

"Ah. Harry, I will stop you there," Remus said with a hand on his shoulder and a smile; "With Hogwarts due to resume tomorrow, my task is complete and you needn't worry yourself any further on the matter."

Harry sighed with relief and gave him a smile.

_Good_.

He'd found it _more_ than stressful enough as it was, worrying about Snape all summer, and he didn't fancy having to spent the rest of the war worrying about Remus being in amongst it all – over enemies lines – as well.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks greeted him, her smile wide as she appeared at their side, with two glasses of champers in hand; "You enjoying the party?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged, his eyes going to the window, where he could see his mum and the rest of the wedding party still having their moving pictures snapped, and when he started to look back towards them his eyes found Snape.

He was standing alone at the bar with his back to the festivities.

"Um. I'll see you both later – tomorrow, right? If not later today."

"Just Remus, I'm afraid. Apparently, the Ministry has decided that I am just _indispensable_ out on the field right now."

"Oh. Really?" Harry looked between them, figuring that must be disappointing for them. But if it was, they didn't show it.

Well.

Harry supposed there were _worse_ fates that not working with your girlfriend.

"Well. I guess I'd see you at Christmas, then," Harry said, with a grin in Tonks' direction.

Remus got a smile at the implication.

"Count on it," Dora gave him a wink and Harry smiled, before he headed in the direction of the bar.

He didn't even, really, consider that he _shouldn't_ until he was already at Snape's side, greeting him – " _Hi_ ," – and it was the look, at first, of confusion and, then, exasperation that he received when Snape realized who had approached that reminded him off it.

He had just become so used to it, these past few weeks, approaching and talking to Snape whenever he saw him.

But then, that had almost always been at the house.

"Mr. Potter," Snape straightened up, eyeing those around them; "I trust you are eagerly anticipating your return to classes this week?"

"Oh," Harry said, realizing he was going for the ' _Professor'_ act; "Yes, Sir. Professor Snape. Really. Can't wait."

Snape's eyes closed for a second, the slightest of sighs, before he shot him a look.

They were saved by the arrival of the bride and groom coming back into the ballroom, applause breaking out upon their arrival, and Mr. Black gave everyone wide smiles as he led Julia through the crowd up to the bar, in their direction.

"Harry," Mr. Black slapped him on the back as he and Julia reached them, and then slung an arm around his shoulders; "What are you drinking?"

"Um. Pumpkin juice?"

"You heard the boy, Shaw," Mr. Black gave him a nod; "And a firewhiskey, and a Daisyroot – hang on, make that two firewhiskeys, won't you? One for Severus here, as well."

He and Snape shared an look between them.

"How about three?" Malachi piped up, from behind Harry, surprising him, and Harry shot him a grin.

"Make that two _pumpkin_ juices, Shaw."

Shaw chuckled, nodding; "Coming right up, Boss."

"Harry!" Grace's voice suddenly called, and Harry turned, noticing her quickly approaching.

He made to intervene – to stop her, as Snape had assigned his duty the night before – but he needn't have as, upon the sound of her voice, Snape made a calm – but swift – departure from the group, heading in the direction of the patio.

"Well, looks like there _is_ a spare glass of Firewhiskey going about," Mr. Black said, very quietly in Malachi's ear, before he shot a grin in Julia's direction; "But I take no responsibility if a certain someone should happen to get caught with it."

Malachi shared a grin with Harry, as Grace appeared at his side.

* * *

It didn't take long for the wedding celebrations to get into full swing.

The floor was quickly packed full as most everyone except a few stranglers – such as himself – danced to the music; and sung along with the singers; and brayed to the speech that Regulus gave; a day of glee, and merriment and liveliness that Severus supposed could have been far, far worse.

His eyes scanned the crowd, just as Regulus stepped up beside him.

"Trying to resist wowing us all with those dance moves of yours, Severus?"

Severus smirked; "And here was me impressed that you had opted to forgo the bottle for the day, Regulus."

"For the ceremony," Regulus clarified, before he tapped the side of his head with a finger; "I'm not forgetting a single moment of that, any time soon."

Severus' smirk held, while he inwardly conceded that – perhaps – he had been a little too pessimistic in his opinion of Regulus' commitment to this woman whom he had chosen – and actually _wed,_ something Severus never thought he'd ever see in his, or Regulus', lifetime – and he gave a nod; "I wish your wife the best of luck. She'll need it; for putting up with you."

Regulus laughed then, shooting him a look.

"You haven't happened to come across my cousin, have you? I've been trying to track her down all day."

"As far as I'm aware, neither she nor Draco are even in attendance."

"Well. They were invited," Regulus said, looking bewildered, "Narcissa was the senior organiser of the event- well, the decor and the entertainment, that is - it makes no sense that she wouldn't show up to see how it turned out."

"Perhaps, the objection was to the choice of bride."

Regulus' eyes darkened, somewhat, at the statement.

"Could be. Now you mention it."

Someone approached and Regulus' eyes widened, then, in recognition, the darkness being shoved away behind a smile – _"Congratulations, Black. The service was quite lovely, as is your wife" –_ but his smile quickly became a frown once more when they'd gone, speaking quietly.

"Why would the Dark Lord order you to attend but not my cousin?"

"Why, indeed."

At Regulus' concerned look, Severus added; "I shall do another perimeter check. Alert security if I see anything amiss. In the meantime –" Severus straightened; " – tend to your public. Or, indeed, your bride."

Regulus got a smile, giving him a nod of thanks, and they separated; Regulus returning to Julia and Severus heading out onto the grounds.

The check did not take long.

As expected, the defences were robust – stronger than ever – and all those in attendance were vastly safer here than anywhere else in the country.

Except, perhaps, Hogwarts.

And it was with that reassurance that Severus returned to the ballroom; the rowdiness of the crowd and the festivities had increased tenfold in the short time that he had been away, and he made his way back to the bar, politely greeting those he recognized who greeted him as he passed, until he reached and ordered another drink – having to almost shout over the din of it all.

"Here was me thinking you'd made an escape."

Severus got a little smile, that he quickly checked, at the sound of Lily's voice at his side. He gave her a nod, aware of the eyes of their coworkers around them; "Mrs. Potter. I trust you are enjoying the celebrations?"

"Oh, yes. I am, in fact," Lily said, with a smile – a rather suggestive one, in fact – and Severus wondered how much she had had to drink, throughout the course of the afternoon and, now, evening; "And yourself, _Professor_?"

Severus' lips twitched.

She knew he _did not_ like that from her.

He opened his mouth to speak – not entirely sure if he was going to respond as he should do or as he actually _wished_ to – but before he could, a searing burn seized his left arm.

His fingers twitched – the only sign of it happening – upon the bar where his hand rested.

Lily noticed it immediately, playfulness in her eyes dimming as she looked back at him.

Severus cleared his throat, straightening up, and he spoke quietly; "Alert the security – discreetly – and have a word with Regulus. It could be nothing."

"Or it could be _something."_

Indeed.

Severus would not be pulled from the event – from his post – without good reason.

But there was no time to dwell on the particulars – the scenarios that sprung to mind – and he turned and made his departure as Lily headed in the direction of the Security Supervisor.

* * *

"Never thought I'd see the day Regulus Black would finally be owned by a woman," Littlewood was laughing, where a small group of them – some of the Research Centre staff – had grasped him and implored him to join them at their table for a bit.

"Oh, I always knew – when the right woman came along," Cornelia said with a nod and a fond smile in Regulus' direction; "You are the softest of us all, Boss, much as you try to deny it."

"Well, hey, it's not as if he didn't have a thorough enough auditions process!" Quinton Gold said to 'ooooohs' and mock-offended laughs from those around the table.

"Very true, Quinton! What's to say he didn't just run out of contenders?" Clay piped up, to more rowdy laughter.

Regulus shook his head at their antics, as they howled at his expense, even if he could hardly hold back a smile.

"Do you lot mind, you are talking about my –"

"Oh, it is all on _you_ , Boss," Littlewood interrupted him.

Regulus made to speak but before he could the music suddenly dimmed – the amplifying charm cut off – and the candles that lit the room were snuffed out, leaving all of them illuminated in the dim dusk sunlight that flickered in through the windows.

There was an air of confusion.

Of unease.

But that did not last long.

For a moment later, a voice echoed throughout the ballroom. A voice high and cold and clear; a voice that Regulus recognized immediately, from the very first word, and that had his blood run cold within his veins.

"Why, Regulus."

There was a stir. A terrified buzz falling upon everyone within the room.

"I must admit that I am disappointed to have been excluded from the celebrations. Most ungracious, Regulus. Most ungracious, indeed."

Regulus heard Grace whimpering, asking for her mother, behind him, and heard the hush of Dora's voice, attempting to soothe her.

"But Lord Voldemort is not so ungracious. It would, indeed, be so to have come here tonight – to a wedding – without bringing a _gift_ , do you not think?"

Regulus sat still as stone, eyes upon the glass in front of him, all eyes upon him as they listened to the words directed his way.

"And so, I implore you, Regulus. Come to the gates. Come to the gates – _now_ –, and no one shall be harmed. Do you think you can, my slippery little friend? Do you dare to face me, at last, as a man?"

Regulus' eyes lifted from the table and, when they did, they met Malachi's across the hall: the terror visible upon his son's face at the request.

"Or shall you hide behind your Foundation and your people – the coward that you are – and allow them to die for you as you did your brother. I just so happen to have the guest list – oh yes, Cornelia Heart, Mortimer Littlewood, Nymphadora Tonks… _Harry Potter_ – why, Regulus. So much blood on yours hands, should you choose to defy me."

Regulus released a breath, eyes back upon the table, as the crowd stirred upon hearing the threat to themselves – nowhere to hide, now he knew their names and who they all were.

"Remain behind your walls at their peril; they will each die, one by one, in their beds tonight if you do not come before me, now. So, do. Come to me, save their little lives and receive your wedding gift. You have five minutes."

At first there was silence.

And then, a din of voices filled the ballroom; a panicked frenzy as they all wondered what to do; for there had been no procedure put in place for such a scenario as this. So unthinkable. But Regulus realized, then, that there was only one person whom he could have gotten that list from – it was classified, the guest list –Narcissa.

Regulus lifted the full glass of firewhiskey that had been sitting before him, downing it in one swig, and got to his feet. And, when he did, the ballroom fell silent and all eyes turned back to him.

Regulus' eyes scanned the crowd, quickly finding Julia, and he went to her first as she came to him – brushing off the hands and the implorations to remain from those he passed – and he took her hands in his when he reached her.

Her eyes which, earlier, had been so filled with joy, and happiness, and love were now filled with the same terror he had seen in Malachi's eyes – the knowledge that this was, most likely, it – and he swallowed, shaking his head.

He had known their time would be short.

But he'd certainly thought it'd be longer than this.

But the five minute deadline was ticking down fast. There was not nearly enough time for him to say what needed – what she deserved – to be said.

Regulus drew her aside, away from the listening ears of those present, and spoke quietly; "There is a portkey in my office. I want you to take Malachi, Harry and Grace and go back to the house. Wait for me there."

"Regulus."

"Wait for me there," he repeated the request – an attempt to fool them both that this was not their last moment – and said: "And I will come for you."

Julia's eyes glimmered now, and she shook her head, slightly, but it was not 'no' for his request, but for something else – the end, he supposed – and she spoke his name again; "Regulus."

Regulus took her face in his hands, kissing her, deeply. Poured everything he could into that one act, this one moment.

And when he drew back, Malachi was approaching with Harry on his heels, and Regulus quickly got him by the arm; "I need you to go with Julia. Both of you."

"Dad –" Malachi shook his head.

Regulus put his other hand on his shoulder, touching his forehead to his temple; "Please, Son."

When Malachi made no move to step away, Regulus met Julia's eyes, and she nodded, her hands going to Malachi's arms behind him, drawing him back, slightly. And Regulus turned to Harry, saying simply.

"Get your sister."

And then he walked by them, heading for the doors, all eyes upon him and Regulus' eyes skimmed the crowd increasingly desperately – seeking Severus – but he was nowhere in sight.

His Security Supervisor stepped up beside him.

"Shall we evacuate, Sir?"

"No," Regulus shook his head, eyes still scanning the crowd; "He probably already has Death Eaters stationed at all of their homes. They're safer here. No one leaves until I come back or... No one leaves. If I've not returned in the hour, alert the Ministry; they'll assist in the evacuations."

"Yes, Sir."

He stepped away as Regulus reached the doors – having finally given up on his fruitless hope that Severus might be able to offer some insight into how the hell he was supposed to do this – and when he did step out, the door quickly opened up again behind him and Lily followed.

He turned, immediately knowing what she meant by it, and shook his head; "No."

"You're not going down there alone, Regulus."

"Are you mad? What good would this do –"

"We are Order Members. We stand together."

"Lily –"

He broke off when Dora ran up the steps behind him, Remus Lupin on her heels.

"Dora."

"She's right, Uncle Reg," Dora said, with so much conviction that – in that moment – Regulus could have sworn he was looking at her mother; "We're not going to just stand back and let you walk to an execution. Remus and I, we went down there. There's five of them. Five of them to four of us; those aren't bad odds."

"Except that one of those five is the Dark Lord hims– we don't have time for this!" Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his own panic start to rise within him, time continuing to tick, tick, tick away, and he dropped his hand; "Alright. But stay behind me."

He hurried on by them – rather odd, indeed, that he was panicking that he might miss the deadline for his own execution – and Lily defied him, immediately, stepping in beside him as they walked.

"Where is Severus?"

"His Mark burned."

Regulus closed his eyes. A feeling of dread coming upon him.

"He's going to be down there. Do not look at him, Lily."

The rest of the walk was made in silence and too soon or, perhaps, just soon enough, they walked over the mound that revealed the gates down below.

There were, as Dora had said, four Masked Death Eaters. The Dark Lord paced the grass behind them.

Regulus hesitated, briefly, in his steps – almost a stumble, even – when he caught sight of him. This was madness. Madness. That he was walking towards him.

Regulus forced himself to get a hold of himself. To reign in his fear – his terror – and be calm – or, rather, at least not quaking – and face him, like the _man_ he had asked for.

Even if Regulus were – as he was quite certain he was about to be – summoned forth and executed – as Lily and Dora and _he_ was quite convinced he was – he would not, he would _not_ cower before him. He would sooner spit at the ground at his feet than cower or bow once more.

Regulus stopped as he reached the gates.

He drew in a breath. Lifted his chin and met the Dark Lord's eyes.

Red eyes glinted back at him at the impertinence.

"It would be…rude –" the Dark Lord began; "- to show up to a wedding, without a gift. Wouldn't you say, Regulus?"

There was a stillness, a silence, a sense of _dread_ in the air following what could only be a warning of something sinister to come.

The Dark Lord walked slowly behind the line of his handful of followers; the Death Eaters he had brought with him, only two of whom Regulus recognized by their masks.

Lucius. Bellatrix.

Severus wasn't there. Whether that was good or bad, Regulus was not quite sure.

One of the masked figures was shorter, only slightly taller than Malachi. The other only slightly taller than that.

The latter was the one the Dark Lord stopped beside; grasping them, suddenly by the back of the neck and throwing them to their knees on the ground.

There was a stir, an uncertainty among those present as to what was going on.

With a flick of his wand the Dark Lord tore the mask from the face of the person on the ground, revealing them to him.

Narcissa.

Her eyes met Regulus' from where she was on her knees.

Utterly resigned.

It took a millisecond for Regulus to realize what was about to happen.

"NO!"

" _Sectumsempra_!"

A swift slit across her throat.

She remained still a moment – her eyes still on his – until, slowly, the life in them slipped away.

Narcissa slumped forward onto the grass; dead.

For a moment there was only silence.

A silence as if no one present understood what had happened or _why._ Why the Dark Lord would turn up to Regulus Black's wedding and execute one of his own followers before him.

Of the remaining Death Eaters, only one of them broke ranks. Not her husband. Not her sister. None except one.

The shorter of them stumbled forward; "Mum?"

Regulus released the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and squeezed his eyes shut. As if that would make it stop.

Erase it all.

Draco tore his mask from his face – shellshocked and devastated – and fell to his knees at his mother's side; "Mum?"

"Draco. Get up."

Lucius' voice was cold, clipped.

"No," the Dark Lord said, red eyes entirely on Regulus' when he spoke; "Let him grieve."

"Mum."

Draco's sobs filled the air.

The Dark Lord stepped towards him and it was only then that Regulus realised his own hands were shaking, his breaths coming almost in gasps, as he kept his eyes on his cousin – _another_ of his cousins – dead.

_For him._

There was a low grumble of a laugh, as the Dark Lord eyed him.

"Running out of family members to hide behind, aren't we, Regulus?"

Regulus almost trembled where he stood, eyes still upon Narcissa.

"Three down….two to go."

Regulus met his eyes then.

The Dark Lord bared his teeth as if in a smile – a taunt – at the reference to those who remained.

Malachi.

Julia.

The Dark Lord lifted his chin, eyeing him.

"Give my best wishes…to the new Mrs. Black," the Dark Lord said with a sneer; "Perhaps next time…we shall make a little game of it. Indeed, have I not always told you – all of you who are _mine_ – that you must _share_ your playthings –" he got a smirk, that bared his teeth; " – Your brothers-in-arms would, I'm sure, _love_ to have a _taste_ of what has so enticed the head of the _Noble and Most Ancient House_ to lower himself to crawl in the filth and the muck."

The Dark Lord gave a low grumble of mirth.

"I _dearly_ anticipate making the acquaintance of your new mudblood bride."

Regulus shook his head: no.

No. No. No.

_Never!_

"Just take me now."

Regulus flicked his wand and the gate sprung open – " _Regulus_!" he heard Lily's voice behind him – and he stumbled beyond it, only stopping when he stood several feet beyond the wards and protections that protected the Foundation.

The Dark Lord had gone incredibly still.

His smile vanishing at Regulus' surrender.

The Dark Lord straightened up to his full height where he stood, eyeing Regulus down his nose – and Regulus could swear he could feel the disappointment, the fury radiating off him, as Regulus stood before him, giving himself up and ending the game they had played for so long – and then he sped towards him, reaching him in a flash.

Regulus almost flinched as the Dark Lord's face stopped millimeters from his.

Red, glinting eyes bore into his; his teeth bared once more in a snarl.

Regulus closed his eyes. Felt the tip of the Dark Lord wand upon the side of his face and a slow, slow drag of the tip – a sharp sting – as it cut him from temple to chin.

The Dark Lord lifted up the wand, as Regulus' eyes opened, holding it up between them and letting the blood – his blood – drip from the end of it.

And then he grabbed Regulus by the throat and his eyes bore into his once more and suddenly his vision was _swimming_ and Regulus quickly did all he could to scramble up some occlumency barriers – the little he knew he could do – before Narcissa was before him.

" _Defect. Build a Foundation to defy him and marry mud. Well, you keep living in your fantasies little cousin –"_

It morphed, the memory, to one of Easter; of Malachi and Bella was before him, masked and ready to kill.

" _Let him go and I'll come with you."_

More flashes – all of Malachi – and they settled on Christmas.

" _Right boys. These are your portkeys…if you do find the need to use them, don't wait for me."_

" _Same rule as always."_

It morphed again – more of Malachi – and there he was.

"… _there is good and there is light and I promise you, Malachi, you will see it and you will have the best life. I will make sure of it."_

Regulus could feel his consciousness beginning to wane, as the hand on his neck tightened, and he reached up, grasping at the hand, unable to help but try and _not die._

Julia was before him, then.

" _Miss Bradbury. Are you asking me to run away with you?"_

" _I want you to open every door. And take every chance. I want you to_ live _, Miss Bradbury."_

The hand around his throat abruptly let go and Regulus fell to the ground, choking and coughing and gasping for breath, but he had barely caught it at all before the spell was cried out:

" _Crucio!"_

It hit him harder than he had ever felt it in _years._ Bella had nothing on the Dark Lord. And he screamed and writhed and screamed on the ground.

But it didn't last long.

Certainly not as long as he knew it ought to. Regulus knew the way the Dark Lord would torture and torment his victims before ultimately killing them. Cherishing the agony he inflicted; relishing every scream and every tear that he could draw from them, determined that he would get every last one.

And Regulus realized, a moment later, when the Dark Lord grasped him by the collar and yanked him back to his feet so they were once again eye level that that was _exactly_ what the Dark Lord planned to do.

The words were _breathed_ from the Dark Lord; a vow.

"You die _last_."

And with that simple – awful – statement, the Dark Lord released him, and he fell back to the ground.

The Dark Lord disapparated.

Bella followed, instantly; no pain or remorse whatsoever shown for the loss of her sister.

Regulus' eyes met Lucius' behind the mask he wore. Even with the mask, Regulus could feel the hatred roiling off of him as he stepped forward, pulling Draco aside, and lifting Narcissa into his arms.

"Come," he said, stiffly, to his son. And they disapparated.

Regulus lay there on the ground.

He heard the gate being flung open and Lily and Dora – Lupin close behind – hurried out; "Regulus!"

He pushed himself into a seated position just as they reached him and tried to hide the trembling of his hands by tucking them into his robes as he warily met their eyes.

Lily hesitated when she met his and he wondered what she could see.

Regulus looked away.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke; from grief or from guilt or from being choked, he didn't know.

"Get them out of here. Party's over."

* * *

It didn't take long to clear out the building.

The Ministry were contacted, and the homes were checked and secured, and everyone present were gone within an hour; Lily going to the house for the kids.

Regulus stayed behind.

Sat at one of the empty tables – all of which were still littered with full glasses of drinks and plates of food – and he tried not think. He tried not to do it.

But his eyes found the picture on the ballroom wall; the one of himself and Andie and Narcissa. And he was sickened as he looked at it; utterly ashamed that he should still be sitting here while they, his cousins, had perished for no reason other than that they had loved him.

"Hey."

Regulus looked up.

He got a frown when he realized who it was.

"Dora. I thought everyone was gone."

"Um. Yeah," she nodded; "Yeah. They are. We rounded them up. Checked the houses. But I…I wanted to come back. To talk to you."

Regulus nodded, slowly, before he indicated that she sit in the free chair next to him.

Dora sat down beside him. But she seemed hesitant – which she never was – as if she wasn't sure how to begin. And Regulus was in no mood for company. Not now. So, they simply sat in silence for a good minute, maybe more, before she finally said.

"I know what he was trying to do. And…I want you to know that… I don't blame you for what happened to my mum."

Regulus averted his eyes.

He swallowed hard at the undeserved forgiveness before he cleared his throat.

"Oh."

"I know we stayed away for a while. Dad and me. But…it wasn't that we didn't want to be with you or here. It's just…my mum really loved this place," Dora got a smile, a wistful one, in remembrance; "She was so proud of it, of what you two built. It was hard, just…being some place we knew she loved so much. But…she'd still be proud. Of this and of you. And… _I'm_ proud that you're my cousin. I'm not afraid of what that means."

Regulus met her eyes. Touched even if he couldn't quite bear to hear it. He never could.

He forced a smile.

"Thank you, Dora."

There were footsteps, then, on the wooden flooring and they both looked in the direction of who had come.

Julia.

Regulus swallowed at the sight of her.

She was still in her wedding dress.

Still as beautiful, as perfect as the moment he had left her.

And Dora gave him a smile and got to her feet, leaving and passing Julia as she approached.

Regulus cleared his throat, getting to his feet before Julia could reach him, and his lifted his eyebrows, forcing a smile; "Well. Can't say we don't know how to throw a party, right, Mrs. Black?"

Mrs. Black.

He hated it.

He _hated_ it.

She was Miss Bradbury.

"Regulus," Julia took his face in her hands, eyes finding his, and she shook her head; " _Don't_."

There was so much concern and _relief_ and earnestness and _love_ for him there in her eyes as she looked up at him that he couldn't bear it – he couldn't look – and he closed his own and pulled her close, burying his face into her shoulder just so he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.

He held her close, his arms tight around her.

It both helped and hurt.

And Regulus held back every urge he felt to break.

Julia Bradbury.

She had been perfect and pure and good; and she had had her whole life ahead of her and he had taken her and made her a Black.

How could he.

_How could he._


	73. September 1995: When It Breaks

So.

Regulus Black lives to see another day.

The thought came bitterly to him as daylight slowly flickered into the room.

Regulus stared up at the ceiling from where he lay on the bed, as the events of the day before – the evening before, rather – played over and over in his mind.

Malachi had been beside himself upon his and Julia's return to the house – even if his son had been reassured that his dad was just fine, and the other particulars along with it – and Regulus knew that Malachi would much rather have stayed here again, that night, before heading back to Hogwarts.

But Regulus had sent him off with Lily – the original plan – hugging him tight and telling him that he'd see him at Christmas when he had realized, with a jolt, that he could just as no longer bear to look into his son's eyes as he could his wife's. And so, with reluctant goodbyes, Malachi had left with the Potters and Regulus and Julia had been left to it: their wedding night.

Julia had tended to the gash on his face – sewn him back up with a whispered sing-song charm, before cleaning him up with cotton strips, the way muggles would do – and then she had just held him – him pulling her to him first, he was ashamed to admit – and they lay together in silence in the darkness.

Did so, for hours and hours, and Regulus would be lying if he said he didn't find – much undeserved – comfort there in her arms.

Regulus risked a glance to the side, where Julia now lay disentangled from him, having finally drifted off to sleep an hour or so before. His eyes lingered – far longer than they had done and could do, during her waking hours – and he drank in the sight of her, where she lay still and peaceful with slumber, above the covers and still in her wedding dress.

He slowly, carefully, rolled away – fearing that even the slightest moment may cause her to wake – and pushed himself upwards to sit on the edge of the bed.

He rubbed a hand over his face – felt the sting of the wound the Dark Lord had inflicted, sure to leave a scar – and drew in a breath that trembled, as his mind drifted back once more to his now-dead cousin and to her husband, Lucius – likely waking alone right now, also, if he'd even slept at all – and to her son, Draco.

Another child made motherless.

Just like Malachi. Just like Dora.

He pushed aside the memory that started to rise then of his little cousin – of Andromeda's daughter – offering him forgiveness, nay, _absolving_ him of any responsibility whatsoever for the loss of her mother; a burden that could not be whittled away by kind words and a kind heart, neither of which he deserved on the heels of this.

He glanced over his shoulder at Julia.

His wife.

His incredible wife.

He had wanted this, so. He _still_ wanted this and her and the life he could see when he had looked into her eyes.

And, upon the heels of the yearning he felt when he gazed upon her, he thought of Ted. And of Lucius. And the shame, then, that he should dare to take a wife – to grasp for that wonderful life – coiled within him, gripping him tight; for how dare he do so, when – even now – his very existence was making widowers.

Others torn apart while he lived on and on and on.

Living in fantasies.

Narcissa's words cut him now, when he had so easily laughed them off before – he could hardly _breathe_ as he remembered those last words spoken – and he sprung to his feet, away from Julia, and went to the bureau at the other side of the room.

He reached for a spare piece of parchment – not risking the tear of the roll waking her – and grabbed the quill that still rested in the ink jar, scribbling a note.

It was short, simple; that he was going to the Foundation.

He hesitated but then he wrote it – dared to – that he loved her and that he would be home soon. Not to worry.

And then he went back to her, placing the note upon the pillow in his stead.

His hand lingered upon the bedclothes as his eyes found her face; gazing upon her. For a moment – the briefest of moments – he felt only love. And then there was longing, and need, and it came upon him with such force that he began to reach for her – just a touch upon her cheek or her hair – but he found, with a tightening in his gut, that he could bear not even that; as guilt and shame and grief swelled up quickly, before his hand had barely even left the fabric of the sheets.

It came over him in a wave – another of several – the reality of just how much her life had changed – had been _ruined_ by him – and the insurmountable danger he had now placed her in; the fate the Dark Lord promised her the worst of all those who had already paid the price of his sins; just as his son who would never know life.

The Dark Lord no longer wanted him.

He wanted _them_.

Regulus hung his head and the hand that had suspended before reaching Julia pressed to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut.

And then he turned and strode from the room.

* * *

"Then your place within the circle is secured."

Dumbledore said it, calmly, showing no discomfort whatsoever at what Severus knew was an incredibly painful procedure, where the two of them sat at the Headmaster's desk.

"For now," Severus conceded, as he continued to finalise the last of the enchantments that would contain the curse within the withered and blackened hand he was focused upon; "With Narcissa's execution, the Dark Lord is convinced that the traitor within his ranks has been discovered and dealt with. It seems that Regulus' grief was more than enough to convince him, when he sought to _surrender_ himself in the aftermath."

Severus could barely keep his incensed incredulity at Regulus' utter foolishness in check as he said it and Dumbledore got a small smile.

"I do believe it will all become a bit too much for your friend, as things continue to unfold," Dumbledore said, as Severus completed the ritual, tucking away his wand while he drew back to sit more upright in his chair.

"Have you thought more on what we discussed?"

"On my murdering of you? Not at all, Albus. It had quite slipped my mind."

Dumbledore smiled, fondly, at him them.

"Would it be murder, Severus, to spare an old man the agony of such a painful and undignified death as either this curse or Tom should inflict upon me?"

Severus lifted his eyes skywards, before looking away, at Dumbledore's attempt to appeal to – or, rather, manipulate him into committing – a mercy killing.

Even mercy killings had the capability of scarring souls.

"If you don't mind dying," he said, roughly; "Why not let Draco do it?"

"I rather believe the young Mr. Malfoy may not be quite so willing to follow said orders, in light of what has just transpired," Dumbledore stated, calmly, as if what had just 'transpired' was not the brutal execution of the boy's mother before his very eyes, leaving him alone and at the mercy of both the Dark Lord and his father. A man who, Severus knew, was a near stranger to Draco, after his time spent in Azkaban.

"You will keep your eyes upon him, Severus. If it is true that he has taken the Mark; then he is frightened, grieving and alone within this school, under the influence of Tom and his Death Eaters, and that can only mean danger to himself and to those around him."

"I shall add it to my list, Headmaster."

The door to the office suddenly burst open and Minerva appeared – in all his years of knowing her, Severus had never seen the woman look so uncomposed – as she blurted out:

"Albus! The Hogwarts Express is under attack by Death Eaters!"

There was a second of stillness.

Before both sprung to their feet.

* * *

It was chaos.

The train still sped onwards to Hogwarts, as if nothing unusual was amiss, but aboard there were screams and sobs and the thuds of feet on the floor rushing from carriage to carriage, attempting to find a place of safety, as Death Eaters stormed through, body binding and letting fall with a thud any person – any child – who caused them any grief.

Draco hurried through the carriages – eyes frantically searching every compartment – and he was already into the second of them when he finally found Daphne huddled with Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson.

He grabbed her and dragged her out.

"Draco! What are you doing?" she pulled back, resisting him, and he yanked her harder out into the corridor – "Where are we _going_?" – there was a note of growing hysteria in her tone when he didn't answer right away, as he dragged her further up the carriage, against the crowd of students running towards them and away from the danger that was inching closer.

"Draco! Let go of me!"

"Shut up, Daphne!"

There was a louder scream and a shout – _"I've got one!"_ – up ahead and both of their heads snapped in its direction.

They could see – over the heads of the terrified faces that were still flocking towards them, almost knocking them from their feet – that the Death Eaters had one of the younger students by the arm, dragging her away as she futilely fought with them.

One of the two Draco knew they'd come here for.

"Astoria!" Daphne flung herself forward in a – _stupid_ – attempt to go to her sister's aid and Draco put a hand over her mouth, muffling her cries, and thankfully _everyone_ was screaming so much that none of the Death Eaters looked.

He grabbed the door of the nearest carriage – empty, as all flocked as far to the back of the train as possible – and dragged her in but Daphne scrambled against him – " _let me go! Tori! Let me go_!" – and he hissed at her to shut up but she wouldn't, she just kept fighting him, trying to push past him as if she could – singlehandedly – save her sister from bloody _Death Eaters_!

Draco drew his wand; pointed it at her.

" _Stupefy_."

Daphne hit the ground with a thud.

Draco's eyes frantically scanned the carriage – the sounds of screams and thuds of footsteps in the carriage corridor were dimming now, as the majority of the students had already fled – and he used his wand to elevate her, putting her up on the luggage rack.

He grabbed a bag from the other side – going back for the other two – transfiguring a blanket and he quickly climbed up and threw it over her, hiding her from sight, and then accioed and shoved the two smaller bags in front of her.

He jumped back down from the seat, hurrying to leave, and as he stepped back through the doorway into the corridor, he ran into someone – Masked – and he felt sickened when he looked up at them.

Draco didn't know this one.

But he hated them all the same.

"Not running along to hide with your friends, Little Lucy?"

Draco thought it might be Crouch Jr. But he couldn't be sure. He wasn't important enough to know.

He lifted his chin.

"Why would _I_ run?"

The Dark Mark on his arm still burned even when it didn't burn.

The Death Eater – his _comrade –_ eyed him through the little slits of the mask, before he peered over Draco's shoulder into the compartment he'd just come from, and then he moved on, continuing to peer into the next and then the next, as other Death Eaters appeared at the tops and bottoms of it.

Draco pulled the door to the compartment closed.

* * *

The entrance hallway to the Castle was buzzing with activity when Harry arrived at Hogwarts later that day, having been brought directly there – as always – by Remus, with Malachi in tow.

"What's going on?" Harry frowned, as he took in the sight of it.

Students were darting from one area to the next, an almost-ominous restlessness, and Harry could hear some people sobbing and some people speaking with fear and, others, speaking with excitement, and he picked up on the odd few things said here and there, as they made their way through the crowd.

" _Death Eaters attacked…" "The Hogwarts Express…" "That newspaper…he wasn't happy at all." "…send a message…Greengrass…"_

"Harry, will you two boys be alright?" Remus stopped him, with a hand on his shoulder; "I'm going to go and find out what's going on –"

Harry just nodded, grabbing Malachi's sleeve as he went on ahead, so they would not be separated. And, then, he caught sight of Ron and Hermione up ahead, along with Ginny and Colin Creevey.

"Hermione!" he called out to her, and tugged Malachi in their direction.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione pounced on him, immediately, giving him a hug – of welcome or relief, he wasn't sure – and then she drew back; "I knew you wouldn't be on the train, of course, but I – we – were so worried. If you had been, it could have been so much worse than it already is."

"What happened?" Harry asked, immediately, sharing a glance with Malachi; "The Hogwarts Express – it was _attacked_? _Why_?"

"You remember, don't you, those articles I was telling you about?" Hermione said, and Harry could feel Malachi tense up, immediately, at his side. Harry nodded, so that she'd go on; "Well the last one – oh, you have to read it Harry! It was simply – well, I'm not the only one who was impressed."

Hermione seemed a mix of both excited and horrified by what she was saying – in contrast to Malachi, who Harry could tell, with the slightest glance, was growing more and more horrified by the second – as she went on.

"The Statute Opposers – not all of them, of course – but some of them; some of the bigger names, even, they picked up on what Max E. MacLean was saying and they've been using it, Harry, they've been using it to dispute You-Know-Who's motives – claiming his methods will only serve to push their wish for Statute reformation further from their grasp – Harry. It worked. The things he was saying - the Statute Opposers, not all of course, but some of them, they are _resisting_ him now."

"But what does this have to do with the Hogwarts Express?" Malachi blurted out, having been silent for the whole thing, and Hermione shared an uneasy look with Ron before she told them.

"Well, he wasn't very pleased, as you'd expect. From what we've heard – he decided to try and send a message – and he ordered his Death Eaters to attack the train and bring Elijah Greengrass' daughter – Astoria – to him as a prisoner. To blackmail Mr. Greengrass into stopping publishing the articles."

Harry felt his heart sink and he shared a look – tried to – with Malachi. But Malachi had gone white, eyes on the floor now, as he contemplated the words.

Malachi turned, making to leave.

"Malachi," Harry quickly stopped him, with a hand on his arm; "Where are you –"

"I…I dunno. I need to find Daphne."

"Oh, she's with Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore, in the Headmaster's office," Hermione told them; "She's fine but I think they wanted to give her the chance to talk to her parents."

"Can all remaining students please continue to make their way into the Great Hall –" Harry could hear Professor Flitwick's voice.

Professor Sprout's joined; "- if there are any of those whom we have missed, who should feel they are in need of the hospital wing, please come with me now –"

They began to bundle into the Great Hall – set up, as it always was, for the welcome feast – and as they moved further in Harry's eyes caught sight of Draco Malfoy.

Harry had heard – from his mum – what had happened, the day before at the wedding. It was a watered-downed version of it, he knew, what Voldemort had done to Mr. Black – and to Draco's mother – but it was enough that he felt sympathy for him, at the lost and broken look in the other boy's face as he – seemingly as if without thought or care for what he was doing – simply followed the crowd. There was no one at his side – completely alone – and then, as if sensing Harry's eyes upon him, his gaze turned in his direction.

The look he gave Harry was cold.

But it wasn't as cold for him, as it was, when Draco's gaze slipped to the side and he saw Malachi at his side.

Harry frowned a little, protectively maneuvering where he stood, so that Malachi was no longer in Draco's line of sight.

Not that Malachi even noticed.

His eyes were upon the floor as he, too, followed the crowd. He had already been a bit broody, that morning, after what had happened – though certainly not as bad as he had been when Julia had taken them back to the house the day before – and he was even more so, now, in light of what Hermione had just told him.

Harry put an arm around him – a brief moment of comfort – before they stepped over the threshold of the Hall, and separated, each going to the respective House tables.

* * *

It was the next day, the second of September – two days after Narcissa's execution and one after the attack on the Hogwarts Express – before Severus had returned to the Foundation, following the completion of his morning classes, and he wasted no time in heading through his own office and into Regulus'.

Still having not had his say on the foolishness Regulus had exhibited by – quite literally – throwing himself at the Dark Lord's feet: surrendering himself, ridiculously, and throwing it all away – all that had been done and built – for nothing.

But, upon walking through the adjourning door – that was open, an obvious invitation from Regulus that he was welcome – any and all words of scorn died on his lips at the sight he was met with.

Regulus' office was a mess.

_Regulus_ was a mess.

He was still dressed in his wedding attire and Severus could see that the wound inflicted upon his cheek – clearly having been tended to by his new wife – had bled profusely in the aftermath, and blood – now blackened – had soaked his collar and the whole left side of the shirt he wore.

Regulus didn't look up from his desk, carrying on with whatever he was doing – how he could even keep track of or _see_ what he was doing, amongst all the parchments and ingredients and utensils that litter the surface, Severus did not know – and Severus slowly approached.

There were books and parchments on Blood Magic everywhere – on the desk, on the floor, on the chair he passed – there was blood-stained parchments crumbled and thrown aside, empty potions phials thrown onto the floor, along with three empty bottles of firewhiskey – one, still open, up upon the desk – and Severus noticed, as he finally reached him, that there was a mortar bowl upon it, filled with blood.

Blood which, Severus could quickly decipher from the poorly-repaired laceration on his palm, belonged to Regulus.

Severus stood beside him, silently, neither of them speaking for a moment.

Regulus' voice was quiet, carrying on with what he was doing, when he finally did.

"Where were you?"

Severus was uncertain if he meant for the execution itself, or for the time that had passed in the aftermath, and he cleared his throat.

"The Dark Lord felt that my presence at the event during the execution would be…compromising."

Regulus said nothing else for a moment.

"Did you know? That it was going to happen?"

"No."

Regulus seemed satisfied with the answer, asking no more – knowing to ask no more, as he would not like any of the answers – and he lifted a phial, pulling out the dropper that was resting within it, before he held it over the blank piece of parchment in front of him.

Two drops.

He reached from something else – a hairbrush, Severus realized – pulled off a strand and whispered an incantation before he placed it on top of the parchment.

Regulus' fingers dipped into the blood in the mortar, and he dragged them down the parchment; from top to bottom.

"What are you doing?" Severus finally asked.

Knowing that he could quite easily guess.

Regulus' lips twisted in a humourless smile.

"Wasting my time –" he said, and his voice was not quite steady - quite obviously under the influence of far too much alcohol, which Severus refrained from pointing out would do nothing to help spells relying upon his _blood_ \- and Regulus dipped his fingers back into the mortar, before he dragged another smear of blood across the parchment; "- _fooling_ myself and living in fantasies; thinking that I might actually be able to do something to stop him."

Regulus spoke another incantation; an attempt to severe the blood line between himself and his son. To no avail. Nothing happened at all; the parchment remaining still and lifeless, no sign of any effect made upon it, whatsoever.

"Frank Longbottom used his wife's sacrifice –" Regulus said, barely even reacting to the fact that his spell had failed; " – to evoke the ancestral magic. Which can only mean that she was accepted – by blood – by the Longbottom ancestors. I never even thought about it. That by _marrying_ Julia, I would be _binding_ her not only to myself but to the bloodline."

Severus glanced at him, and Regulus met his eyes – briefly – when he did and the gaze in them was haunted, full of regret and so much self-loathing that Severus was struck.

And he assured him; "Your wife's blood status would protect her from the curse – she will not be considered as _worthy_ by the ancestors - and with your marriage, any offspring from your own line – Malachi notwithstanding – will no longer be able to call upon it."

There was the slightest hint of relief – of hope – in Regulus' eyes at the statement.

Even if this was a magic that Severus was determined Regulus would never actually _evoke_ – not in a million years.

And Regulus gave him a wry smile, then, not quite so twisted as it was before and a tapped a finger to the side of his head and pointed at Severus.

"That's why you're the researcher, Sev," and then he raised an eyebrow; "If only I'd known I could have come to you, sooner."

He made to step by him, but Severus grabbed him by the arm, stopping him; "Blood magic was never the answer."

Regulus didn't meet his eyes, glowering at the carpet, as Severus spoke close to his ear.

"Regulus. You are allowing the Dark Lord to get into your head; allowing yourself to become _unhinged_ in a manner that serves no one. Least of all those whom you care for."

Regulus shook his head, meeting Severus' eyes, and the haunted look was replaced by one of stubborn pride; "This will work. It worked for Longbottom. It _will_ work again."

"This is working, is it?" Severus indicated the parchments; "Your wife is muggleborn and you will not allow your son to take part in the ritual; it is a magic that can _only_ be wielded by purebloods of their own bloodline. Even if you should wish it, it is not a magic that can be enacted alone. And certainly not by _you."_

Regulus yanked his arm free from Severus' grasp; "I am not the one who will be enacting it."

Regulus headed by him and Severus frowned, at the implication.

"If not you, then by whom?"

For it certainly would not be _him_.

Regulus didn't quite meet his eyes. That was not, in fact, unusual, when Regulus got himself into these states; but Severus knew – _instantly –_ what Regulus meant by it.

"No."

Regulus lifted his chin, meeting his eyes then, when he realised he'd guessed it.

Obviously right.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

_No_.

Severus released a harsh breath, shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut.

"You idiot. You absolute _fool_."

"He has the answers that we need."

Severus dropped his hand, furious now; "You are not bringing Hopkins back here!"

"No!" Regulus snapped back; "No; what I'm _not_ _doing_ is standing by and doing _nothing_ when the Dark Lord has commanded the _murder_ of every girl my son happens to look at and the _repeated_ rape and torture of my wife!"

Severus drew in a breath.

Glanced away.

Knowing that – should the shoe be on the other foot, that should _Lily_ and Harry and Grace be facing the very same threat – he could not do it, either. Leave their fates in the hands of another; another – who, even, in this case? – to protect them.

And so, he sighed.

Gave a jerk of a nod.

"Very well."

At the slight furrow on Regulus' brow, Severus elaborated.

"Very well. I will _look_ at it," Severus conceded; "And, when you are proven wrong, you can thank me for saving you the trouble of going through with this hairbrained idea of yours. On one – no – let's make it two conditions."

Regulus no longer looked so hopeless – as if Severus, himself, held all the answers to Regulus' woes – and raised an eyebrow.

"What conditions, dare I ask?"

"The first –" Severus began, seriously; " – is that you snap yourself _out_ of this foolish quest of yours for sainthood; your eagerness to throw your own life away – as if that is not in any way disrespectful to the sacrifices of those who have already perished – is growing tiresome; so do, please, stop begging the Dark Lord and Hopkins to kill you, if you possible could."

Regulus rolled his eyes, before Severus went on.

"And the second is that Eugene Hopkins _never_ sets foot in this Foundation. Nay, that you and he never set your eyes upon one another again in either of your lifetimes."

Regulus considered it. But not for long.

He nodded, slowly; "Alright. I accept those conditions; here's yours. That if you _do_ find something – particularly something that proves me _right –_ you come to me with it. No burying it and pretending a solution doesn't exist to stop me."

Severus' lips twitched.

"Are you accusing me of sentimentality, Regulus?"

Regulus got a small smile then – a genuine one – and then he raised an eyebrow; "Wouldn't dream of it –" he pulled open the drawer of his desk, and pulled out a thick roll of parchments, holding them out in his direction; "- I assume you didn't bother reading this information I gave to Lily?"

Severus took it; "Surprisingly not."

He unrolled them, eyes immediately going to the first title; "A Sharing of Vessels; The Nature of Sentient Horcruxes."

"Oh," Regulus waved a hand, as he poured another – of many, Severus was sure – glass of firewhiskey; "We – Lily and I – have been looking into Nagini. The last of the horcrux tasks. We need to be sure that a simple killing of a living horcrux is sufficient – " Regulus broke off; "- it is irrelevant."

Severus' eyes skimmed the text; "It appears to detail the signs and indicators that one may notice when a horcrux manifests within a vessel, living."

"Yes."

"Hm. Well, it may be irrelevant to the present task -" Severus conceded, putting those parchments to the back of the pile; "- but it is certainly not uninteresting. Perhaps – should I find the time – I can offer some insight. I expect to be spending some time in the presence of the Dark Lord's living horcrux – Nagini – in the near enough future – at Christmas – I will feed back anything of use."

"You don't have to –"

Severus rolled up the parchments; "It is agreed. I shall help you on your blood quest and _you_ shall – to put it bluntly – give it a rest. I shall commence reading these _tombs_ you've produced immediately."

Regulus got a smile then, giving him a nod; "Thank you, Severus."

Severus nodded, tucking the rolls of parchments regarding Blood Magic and Sentient Horcruxes into his robes, before making his way from the room.

* * *

There was a darkness, broken every now and again by the shimmer of moonlight upon the stone ground beneath him.

He moved in a slow, steady slither across the pavement.

There was a hissing in the air that surrounded him: as if it were coming from him.

And then blank darkness.

He was back.

Slithering onwards down the street – gaining speed – and the hissing intensified, and he felt _excited,_ but he didn't know why.

And then blank darkness.

He was somewhere else the next time.

In a room – decorated ostentatiously – but he caught only a glimpse of it before all he could see was someone masked – a Death Eater – kneeling at his feet, pressing a kiss to the hem of his robe. A hand that was not his own moved into his line of vision, holding a wand, beginning to lift it.

"Harry."

The hand hesitated – hearing it too – and then there was only blank darkness once more.

Harry awoke to chaos.

He was in the Gryffindor Common Room and people were running around him - shouting his name - and hands were on him pulling him back from where he was knelt on the floor, and he quickly realized – with a glance down – that he had Ron pinned to the carpet beneath him, his hands around his neck.

Harry quickly let go, scrambling backwards.

There were voices shouting all around him; a panicked frenzy at what had happened.

" _He just attack Weasley!"_

" _Someone get Professor McGonagall!"_

" _He's lost it – did you see his eyes?"_

Harry hurried back to Ron's side – pretended he didn't notice the way he flinched when he did – and Hermione was on the other side of Ron, looking concerned for _both_ of them when she met Harry's eyes.

" – the – bloody hell – was _that_?" Ron's hand was on his throat, eyeing Harry uneasily.

Harry shook his head; "I…I dunno."

He glanced over his shoulder, at the couch. He couldn't even remember falling asleep. There were still voices, chattering away in alarm, and Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm, speaking closely, as quietly as she could manage over the noise.

"We should go and see Professor McGonagall, Harry."

Harry started to shake his head – no, he had to see Snape – but he knew Snape wouldn't be there, he'd be at the Foundation, at this time. A glance at the timepiece confirmed it. So he nodded, getting to his feet along with the two of them.

"Yeah. Yeah, but…I'll just go myself. You – Ron – you take him to the Hospital Wing."

"The Hospital Wing?" Hermione repeated, before eyeing Ron where he now stood beside her, looking just fine – with the exception of the look of pure terror in his eyes – and she shook her head; "I think that's probably a bit dramatic, Harry –"

Harry was already leaving.

He by-passed McGonagall's office when he came to it and headed somewhere else – anywhere else that wasn't the Common Room – determined he'd speak to no one about it but Snape.

* * *

"You know, you're never gonna get any better if you don't pay attention!" Harry called across the space between them, with a smirk.

Malachi rolled his eyes, before mustered up as much will as he could and flung a stinging hex Harry's way, which the other easily blocked.

The Duel Club was back in session in the Great Hall and had been since the first day of classes – every afternoon of the week, this term – and Malachi was glad they'd kept the same year groups together, rather than going by the same formula as the last, so that he'd be able to keep Harry as his duelling partner.

Not that he was offering Harry much of a challenge, mind.

"Good work, you two," Professor Lupin said, as he stepped in beside him.

" _Harry's_ good. Pretty sure _I'm_ just a lost cause at this point."

Professor Lupin chuckled, putting a hand on Malachi's shoulder; "Well, I don't believe there's such a thing as lost causes, Mr. Black."

"Well –" Malachi rolled his eyes; "- prepare to be _amazed_ , Professor."

Professor Lupin and Harry laughed, sharing amused glances between them.

"Excuse me – Professor Lupin?"

They – all three of them – turned at the voice: Daphne.

"Miss Greengrass," Professor Lupin smiled, warmly, and Malachi could detect the same concern in his eyes that both he and Harry had expressed in the aftermath of what had happened to her sister; "Can I help you?"

It was odd, now Malachi came to think of it. Not just that Daphne was here at Hogwarts – her parents had whisked her off home the week before without notice – but that she was _here,_ at the Duel Club.

As far as Malachi knew, her parents had forbidden her to take part.

"Um. Yeah," Daphne nodded; "I wanted to talk to you."

Her eyes met Malachi's, after addressing the Defence Professor, and – to his relief – she gave him a little smile, before Professor Lupin led her out of earshot so that they could speak, privately.

"I didn't know Daphne was back," Harry said, suddenly at Malachi's side, his eyes all for the girl who'd interrupted – surprise, surprise – and Malachi shrugged.

"Me neither. Wasn't sure if her parents would want her here."

They both watched – shamelessly – as she spoke to Professor Lupin, beginning to look more and more disappointed as the conversation went on. Until, finally, she gave a nod and made her way from the hall.

"Hey, I'm –" Malachi turned to Harry; "I'm gonna go after her, alright? I wanted to talk to her. About –"

"Sure," Harry nodded, indicating that he do; "I'll practice with Uncle – Professor Lupin for a bit."

Malachi didn't wait, hurrying in the direction Daphne had gone, hoping he'd catch her – very, very glad she was back, so he could finally apologise for everything that had happened – and it didn't take long, Daphne's steps slow and despondent as she made her way back down the corridor that would lead to the dungeons.

"Daphne!"

She turned, getting another smile when she saw him.

"Hey, Mac."

"Um. Hey."

Malachi slowed as he reached her – feeling a bit awkward now – and he drew in a breath; "I…uh… I didn't know you were back."

"Just now. My father dropped me off."

Malachi nodded, slowly, glancing away; glad he hadn't run into her, _then_ , with her father in tow.

"I'm really sorry, Daphne. For what happened –"

Daphne averted her eyes.

"- I didn't even think. I just…I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Mac."

"No I – I mean, it was a _bit._ I shouldn't have –"

Daphne shook her head, meeting his eyes then, saying with more certainty; "No. It wasn't. It had to be said, the things you wrote. And…it made a difference, you know. It…We can't let people like _that_ silence things that need to be said," she drew in a breath, before adding, with a not entirely convincing act of certainty; "Because that's how they win. When people stop talking and fighting back."

Malachi hesitated. Not really sure how to respond to that. He guessed it made sense but…

Daphne drew in a breath, averting her eyes; "That's what my father said. When I apologised for giving him the articles."

Malachi realised, then, that she wasn't entirely convinced, herself. Even if it did seem that it was true, that she wasn't blaming _him_ for what had been written and printed.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Daphne nodded, meeting his eyes; "He said, tell Max MacLean, never stop writing. You're hitting the mark."

Her eyes went to the side of the Hall and she nodded, then, at a Notice on the Board that Malachi hadn't ever paid much attention to – and, upon it, was a One World poster, the movement clearly having reached and come with them to Hogwarts – and he got a little frown, before he met her eyes.

He saw Daphne draw in a breath, not quite meeting his eyes when she went on.

"My father. He still wants to print your work. He said he'll pay you more; if you want it."

Malachi frowned, fully, then.

"But…I thought the Death Eaters have your sister? That they'd taken her, to stop your dad from printing anything else?"

Daphne nodded, slightly, meeting his eyes; "Yeah." She cleared her throat, glancing away; "He said he will not be silenced by threats of violence. And that freedom of speech – spoken or written – is not a negotiation he is willing to make."

Malachi could only stare back at her for a second. Not fully comprehending what Daphne was saying.

But when he _realised_ he was just as horrified – if not _more_ so – as he was upon learning Astoria had been taken in the first place. That Mr. Greengrass would keep printing the articles – fighting the war with his newspaper – regardless was just so… _cold_ that Malachi was flabbergasted.

His dad would _never -_ not in a million years - put anything over and above his safety – he knew that for a fact – not even the war.

Malachi had always taken that for granted; that parents just did what was best for their kids – that their kids came first – always.

At least, ever since he had come to live with him.

That Mr. Greengrass would be willing to sacrifice one of his own daughters to make a stand against Voldemort – no matter how successful his efforts were proving themselves to be – just appalled him, almost to the point of speechlessness.

Well.

Not quite.

"I'm not writing for him anymore," Malachi said it, with certainty.

He wanted nothing to do with him – or it – anymore. Not if _that_ was something considered a worthy cost.

He expected – wondered – if Daphne was going to try and convince him; give him some spiel about the value of words and her own reassertions of how she deplores violence and she, too, would not be silenced by threats of it –

But no.

She didn't.

Instead, Daphne met his eyes and he could see both pain and gratitude in them when she did. And she drew in a breath, before she said; "He's not wrong. If no one is willing to speak up - to put themselves out there - we don't really stand a chance. And...I've always known that my father was a man of principle. And that no fight can be won without sacrifices. It's...what he's always instilled in both of us," she swallowed, as her eyes lowered; "But...I never thought my father would be willing to let either me or my sister _die_ \- on _principle_. I mean...he's our _father_."

Malachi stared at her, not even knowing what to say. He didn't think there was anything that he _could_ say to that. Except.

"I'm not writing for him. Ever."

Daphne drew in a breath, eyes meeting his. As if she wasn't really sure if that was the _right_ choice. But she was evidently grateful, all the same.

"Thank you, Malachi."

They shared a smile.

"What were you talking to Professor Lupin about? The Duel Club?"

"Yes," she conceded, glancing in annoyance back in the direction of the door; "I hoped I might be able to take part this term."

"Well, why can't you?"

"Because my father wrote a pretty convincing letter forbidding it last term, citing _philosophical_ differences -" she rolled her eyes as she said it; " - so convincing, in fact, that now I won't be permitted to join without a letter from either him or my mother requesting that I may do so."

Daphne looked more and more irritated with each word spoken.

"They wouldn't let you? Not even your mum?"

"No. Pacifists, apparently, just stand back and let _insane_ Dark Wizards and their followers kidnap their daughters while insisting we do not 'stoop to their level' and engage in violent retribution. Apparently, that makes us _better_ than them."

She pressed the fingers of both hands to her forehead, then, and Malachi thought she might cry.

He cleared his throat.

"Oh. Well. Maybe Professor Lupin might teach you privately, or something? He does it with Harry."

Daphne got a wry smile at the idea, dropping her hands, but then she looked at him, considering for a second, before she said;

"Well, why don't you? You could teach me some stuff, right? Things you do at the club?"

Malachi scoffed, rolling his eyes; "Yeah, right. I could do with private lessons myself, whenever me and Harry –" he broke off, meeting her eyes, the idea coming to him, suddenly; "You should ask Harry."

Daphne frowned.

"Potter?"

"Yeah."

She scoffed.

"Potter's not gonna want to help me, Mac."

Malachi fought back a laugh, looking at her sceptically, entirely unable to believe she hadn't noticed. She must have. She _must_ have. Everyone else had.

"Um – _yeah_ – he will."

Daphne looked a little bit confused at his statement – along with the little smirk he couldn't hold back – and she realised, then, Malachi was pretty sure of it. Because she reddened a little – almost in a blush – and she eyed him, as if she didn't _quite_ believe what Malachi was getting it.

And then he shrugged.

"Ask him. See what he says."

* * *

"That's it? Nothing. It's been over a week and that's all you have to say about it? Did you even read the texts?"

"I did give you ample warning, Regulus, that there were no answers to be found," Severus said, unapologetically, before adding as Regulus took the seat opposite across the desk in Severus' office; "My findings –"

"Of which there are none."

"- of which there are none," Severus agreed, to Regulus' exasperation; "Would have been relayed to you sooner, had you not been entirely inaccessible for the past week."

"I've been here; I've been on the grounds."

"Doing what, exactly?" Severus raised an eyebrow; "Nipping at the heels of the Department Heads, giving them unsolicited advice?"

"Making sure they knew that I appreciated the fact that they even turned back up to work."

Severus lifted his chin in acknowledgement of the statement.

Regulus was not the only one who was surprised by the fact; that the Monday following the wedding, all who worked within the organization – many of whom had been present at the spoiled nuptials – had all flocked into work without hesitation; entirely convinced of the fact that the Foundation – and Regulus Black – were entirely capable of keeping each and every one of them alive and safe.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

The door opened and – to Severus' surprise – Julia appeared in the doorway.

"Mrs. Black," Severus' eyebrows lifted; "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I was looking for my husband."

Severus' eyes went from Julia to Regulus who, Severus now realized, hadn't turned or even acknowledged his wife's presence behind him. Instead, he sat still as stone, eyes upon the desk between them.

The three of them were silent for a moment. Both Julia and Severus' eyes upon him. And then, Regulus cleared his throat, mustering up a smile – that his wife would surely know was not sincere – and turned where he sat, not meeting Severus' eyes as he did, to face her.

"Hey."

Regulus' voice was quiet. Almost ashamed.

Julia did not smile back.

"I was just wondering if you were planning on coming home tonight?"

Severus frowned.

Regulus shifted where he sat, not quite meeting his wife's eyes, and he gave a little jerk of a nod; "Yea - _yes_. Of course. I…I've been home. Just…it's been late. You were asleep."

Julia stared back at him.

Severus could see the hurt in her eyes from where he sat all the way across the room.

"I'll wait up."

She turned and left, without another word.

A heavy silence fell upon the two of them in the wake of her departure.

At what the exchange quite obviously meant.

Regulus cleared his throat, leaning forward, and lifted the nearest parchment; his voice not quite steady when he spoke; "From what I could gather –"

"Regulus –"

" – while, usually, the severances occur following a misdeed – unprovoked – that is not _always_ the case –"

"Regulus."

" – on occasion, maybe just one, I admit, there _has_ been –"

Severus slammed his palm down on top of the parchment Regulus was holding.

Regulus still wouldn't meet his eyes, averting them instead, and Severus shook his head, speaking lowly.

"Tell me –" Severus began, eyes narrowing; "- that that was _not_ the first time that you have seen your wife since the wedding."

Regulus drew in a breath, shifting in his seat. Slowly, he met his eyes; and the truth – the _shame_ – was as clear as day within them.

Severus released a breath – a grunt of disbelief – and closed his eyes, shaking his head; "Regulus."

"What?" Regulus snapped, immediately on the defensive.

"You are just –"

"What? Hm? What am I?"

"Oh this - this is just –"

" _What_?"

Severus opened his eyes, glowering at him.

"It's _Evelyn_."

Regulus looked stricken.

" _Don't."_

"Is that what you want for your wife, Regulus? For her to be _alone_ , in that house, believing herself _unloved_ , wondering where her husband is?"

" _No."_

"Leaving her to go through all of this _alone_ , while you whittle around _saving_ the rest of the world – wondering why _she_ is not enough for you and why you cannot _stand_ to look at her?"

" _Stop it."_

"- and if Death Eaters were to show up at that door _tonight_ –"

" _Stop it!"_

"You _married_ that woman, Regulus," Severus snapped; "You allowed her to give up _everything_ for you; you cannot – you _cannot_ treat her this way."

Regulus looked small – extremely small – where he sat in the chair opposite, chin lowered, and there was so much shame and self-loathing roiling off of him that Severus feared that even this exchange would not be enough to drive him back to the arms of his wife.

Anything Severus had said in the past had never been enough to convince him, after all; not with Evelyn. And it wasn't as if Severus had not had plenty to say about the fact back then, either.

Perhaps Julia would be no different.

In all honestly, Severus was not in the least bit surprised.

But that lack of surprise did nothing to allay his displeasure at the fact.

Severus released another breath, shaking his head, and he began to gather up the parchments in front of them – _done_ with this now – and said.

"Wake up, Regulus."

Regulus lifted his eyes – no other part of him moving at the statement – and met his own, guardedly.

" _Wake up._ And go home to your wife."

* * *

The Duel Club ended at seven, as always, and his group was the last for the day and Harry hovered around the corner of the exit to the Great Hall, when Malachi told him to wait there for him for a bit, while he went to get something.

He'd been waiting a good ten minutes before Daphne – not even Malachi – appeared and Harry got that little flutter he always did, when he saw her.

But that's not all he felt this time. He was concerned, now; especially when he saw how she looked. A little lost, not quite so sure, and he was surprised when her eyes scanned the Hall – landing upon him – and she made her way over.

"Hey," he said, giving her a smile when she reached him.

"Hi."

"I um…I'm really sorry. About your sister."

She nodded, getting a small smile – a sad one – that didn't meet her eyes.

"Thank you."

Daphne drew in a breath, looking a little uncomfortable. A little bit, in fact, that she was lacking in _confidence_ right now, which was something Harry thought he'd never see.

She cleared her throat, meeting his eyes, and she said more certainly; "I heard that you take extra defence classes; to get you ready to fight in the war."

Harry got a little grin, raising an eyebrow; "You here to scold me for that? Tell me to pick up a quill?"

Daphne met his look, not smiling, entirely serious when she answered him.

"I want you to show me how to fight."

Harry frowned.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Obviously, Malachi had had something to do with this; the fact that it had now been fifteen minutes since he'd scampered, and he still hadn't shown back up – Daphne appearing instead – made that obvious.

"Well," Harry began, giving a little laugh – nervous, for some daft reason – before he went on; "I don't know what Malachi's _told_ you but I'm actually not very good. There's the Duel Club; that'd be better for you."

Daphne got a little smile then; "I've seen you with a wand, Potter. I know you're good."

It took all Harry's willpower not to physical puff up and grin like a fool at her praise – even if, in Daphne's case, such a statement shouldn't really be a compliment – but Daphne's next words certainly helped in _that_ regard.

"My parents won't sign the permission slip for the Duel Club," she explained; "It was compulsory, initially, but my father wrote a letter to excuse me from the practicals. Of course, the Ministry jumped at the chance to not have to teach a Slytherin anything that might be used against them, when they finally spit us all out into the war. And now they won't let me back in without my father's written request."

Ah. That made sense. Malachi had told him. That the Ministry – well, they hadn't _ordered_ it as such – but they had _encouraged_ Professor Dumbledore to time the detentions of any wayward Slytherins to coincide with the Club; and they were automatically ineligible - another reason to be given, of course - for any of the accelerated training programs that would land them in early service upon their graduation.

Still. As far as Harry knew – other than the obvious offensive insinuation – that wasn't something that had really even bothered Malachi or Daphne. Neither wanted to fight – _physically_ – anyway.

"Well," Harry shrugged; "I mean, it's not really _you_ , is it?"

"Maybe not. Or maybe it is," Daphne shrugged; "Who are we, anyway? My father's always said there's no conflict that can't be better solved with words than a wand," she lowered her eyes; "But I don't wanna write about this. I can't just _stand by_ and let them hurt the people I love and do nothing and pretend that makes me _better_ ," she lifted her chin, with a conviction that made Harry's stomach flutter again; "So, if they want a fight, I'll give 'em one. I _want_ to fight them," she sighed, averting her eyes, looking both lost and certain all at once – as if she were going against everything she'd ever been told to believe in; "Vengeance isn't the answer – but I _want_ to avenge my sister. I know that sounds awful…"

"No. It doesn't," Harry said, quietly, knowing the feeling all too well; "It's human. You're grieving."

"It wouldn't bring my sister back. It wouldn't change anything."

"They could find her."

"Maybe."

The two of them were quiet, then. The change between them almost palpable, now, for they'd never done this; they'd never really _talked_ , much less revealed as much of themselves as Daphne had just let him see of her, in that moment.

She drew in a breath, meeting his eyes.

"Is this how it was for you? When you lost your Godfather?"

Harry got a little smile – at the mention – and he nodded; "Now it is. I was a kid back then. I wasn't angry. I was just scared."

"But you're not scared anymore?"

"Are you kidding? I'm terrified," he laughed, and Daphne got a smile – a smile for _him_ which he was sure had never happened before; "But I know I have to fight. Words won't save me now."

Daphne nodded, seeming to get it – for the first time, getting _him_ – and she drew in a breath, before she asked him again.

"Show me?"

Obviously, he would.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Um. Something…lighter, I suppose. At first. Not the Unforgivables or anything."

Harry frowned. That wasn't the Duel Club. That was what they'd done in Defence.

"You didn't do the Unforgivables assessments last year?"

"No," Daphne lifted her eyes, almost in a roll; "I refused. I was an idiot."

Harry shook his head, not having that.

"You're not an idiot. You're…one of the smartest people I know."

Daphne met his eyes at the statement; said with far too much sincerity to be _subtle,_ Harry realized, with a blush. So he quickly went on.

"Okay, how about a Patronus Charm? You know what that is?"

Daphne shot him a look.

"Yes, I know what a Patronus Charm is, Potter."

Harry's lips twitched and he raised an eyebrow; "Can you cast it?

Daphne lifted her chin, pursing her lips together – but Harry could see she was fighting a smile – at the way he said it: only a _tiny_ bit cocky.

He grinned, indicating with his head she come a little more out of the corner; "Come here."

She did, standing where he said, and they faced the center of the Hall, with Harry at her side, as she took out her wand.

"So. You're gonna have to try and be really, _really_ happy a minute."

Daphne eyed him out the corner of her eye and lifted her wand in a point.

"You know the incantation, right?"

"Yes."

She tried it – speaking it – and nothing happened. Not even a spark. But he knew she could do _that_ , at least, for he remembered she had been in his class in third year when his Uncle Remus had first taught them.

"One happy memory or thought, that's all it takes."

She tried again.

Again and again; and, although he teased and encouraged her in equal measure, ten minutes passed and Daphne had only managed to get out a few sparks from the end of her wand. Once, it almost began to shine a light, almost – but it was quickly snuffed out.

Daphne lowered her wand, meeting Harry's eyes where he stood next to her, standing a bit closer, now, than he had been when they'd started.

"Yours is corporeal, isn't it?"

He nodded; "Yeah."

"What form does it take?"

Harry held her look for a second, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own wand, speaking the incantation and the Patronus formed quickly – easily, even – on his first attempt.

The massive silvery dog – very familiar to him now – burst forth and bounded throughout the Great Hall. Harry smiled. He always did with he saw it.

"A dog."

Daphne said it, as if trying to hide the fact that she was impressed – but Harry could tell that she _was_ and he felt his own pride swell up at the fact.

"A _big_ dog," Harry clarified and the smile Daphne had been holding back came out then, along with a little chuckle, as she met his eyes.

"Come on," he said, giving her an encouraging nod and another smile – one that wasn't really leaving him at all, now, as they carried on.

Daphne lifted her wand and said the incantation – trying far too hard, much too serious for this to work – and Harry grinned beside her.

"You've _really_ gotta be in touch with your emotions," he told her, still grinning, before he went on, feeling mischievous; "Really feel that…that… _oomph –"_ he beat his fist against his chest _;_ " – of happiness."

Daphne turned, shoving him then, and they both laughed.

And it was, probably, the most beautiful laugh that Harry had _ever_ heard, as she looked at him, her eyes shining with mirth.

Harry drew in a breath, averting his eyes, his stomach fluttering like _crazy_ now, and he felt a little boost of confidence at the look she gave him.

"Here."

He stepped forward and put his arm around her to take and lift her wand hand, higher; "Close your eyes."

Daphne eyed him. It was a little bit playful, a little bit distrusting, and Harry just grinned.

"Come on, what do you think I'm gonna do?"

He couldn't help it; his eyes dropped ever-so-slightly, down to her lips, which made what he was _thinking_ more than a little obvious, now. And Daphne lifted her chin, raising an eyebrow, before she did as he said and closed her eyes.

He wondered if actually kissing her would just be as dumb a move as his brain was telling him it was.

"Okay," Harry said, focusing, stepping in a little closer and tightening his hold on her hand; "Now. Find a moment. Something – even someone – that makes you feel good. And just feel it."

Daphne stood there – in his arms – and he could tell she was trying. Trying and failing.

"What if I can't?" she said it almost in a whisper, and with her eyes closed it was if she was allowing her walls to drop and let herself be vulnerable with him, for the first time; "What if all you feel is…angry or sad or…lost."

Harry swallowed, eyes upon her face; and he felt it, for her, the pain that she was obviously going through. The turning upside down of her world. His arm instinctively tightened around her and he spoke, as quietly as she, a murmur, almost, in her ear.

"I've felt all that," he admitted, remembering last year; "But I know there's always something – even just one thing – _good_. Even if you don't have it yet. A hope or a dream. Even if you still have to fight to get it; it's a light. It's enough."

They stood there a second, neither saying anything more, and when Daphne spoke again it was the incantation – _"Expecto Patronum" -_ barely more than a whisper, but with so much feeling behind it that Harry knew, even before the light shone forth, that it was going to work.

And it did.

A bright, silvery light – not corporeal, not yet – filled the area in front of them and Daphne's eyes opened, widening in wonder at what she had done.

And when the light went out in the room, it _didn't_ go out in her eyes, and she turned her amazement upon him with a smile. And then she laughed again, almost giddy this time, and she was just so beautiful when she laughed.

Harry was sure he could listen to that sound all day long.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked, forcing his entirely inappropriate thoughts away.

Daphne eyed him, getting a cheeky little smile at that.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Harry felt himself blush at the obvious flirty look she cast his way. But, for the first time, he didn't look away when he felt it – the flutter in his tummy – and he smiled, instead. And hoped that _maybe_ that look she was giving him, meant that she felt it too.

"You wanna try again?"

Daphne smiled.

"Yeah."

* * *

Regulus hesitated when his hand gripped the door handle.

He had done so every time – the few times – that he had come back to the house, since the week before when he'd taken Julia as his wife. Overcome, for a moment, by flashes from years before – of opening the door and finding Evelyn and Malachi – that would halt him in his steps.

He whispered the incantations to release the additional wards he'd placed upon the house each time he left – useless, should Death Eaters actually, somehow, break the Fidelius – before he drew in a breath, bracing himself for something that – logically – he knew he wasn't going to find and pushed the door open.

Everything looked fine.

Exactly as he'd left it two days before. Returning and leaving again in the middle of the night.

Regulus walked down the hallway, going into the living room – where he knew Julia would be waiting – and he saw her, there, on the couch.

Unconscious.

_Asleep._ His mind quickly reassured him when the initial jolt came under control and he noticed her breathing steady, the blanket pulled up over her waist.

Regulus glanced at the timepiece.

It wasn't late.

He'd made sure of that; made sure he didn't put this off so long, that it would surely only anger – and hurt – her more than he already had.

He wondered if he should wait and let her sleep – if she'd rather that – for if she had drifted off, so early, she was surely not sleeping right at night. The thought made the shame swell up once more within him – the reason she _wouldn't_ be sleeping right, obvious – and he approached, sitting next to where she lay on the couch.

For a moment, he could fool himself that this was entirely _normal_ – coming home from work, finding his wife dozing on the couch, looking entirely peaceful in slumber – something to strive for, for the two of them, in the much-dreamed-for future.

Regulus pushed thoughts of the future aside - there was nothing to be found, there – and he reached up, gently brushing the hair back from her forehead – a feather touch, the first he'd touched her since their wedding night – and Julia stirred.

Her eyes opened – meeting his – and, for a moment, she looked at him through a bleary haze. But her look was warm, welcoming.

For a second.

That quickly changed, as it all came back to her.

"Wow –" she said, her voice husky with sleep, which corrected itself with what came next; "Almost didn't recognize you for a minute."

She pushed herself up so swiftly that Regulus had to lean back, only just managing to get out of her way, as she got to her feet and stumbled away from him, stopping just in front of the fireplace and putting some distance between them.

Regulus slowly got his feet behind her.

Julia drew in a breath, her eyes closed where she stood turned away from him, and her fingers came up to press to her temples, in an obvious attempt to calm herself.

It was entirely endearing and unfamiliar; Regulus had never seen her do that before.

He and Julia never fought.

In fact, in all the eight years that they'd known one another, Regulus was certain that Julia had never even been angry with him before; much less _livid_ , as she clearly was, now.

He stepped towards her – a little uncertain; "Can we talk?"

"Damn right, we're gonna talk," Julia rounded on him, then – the attempts at calming herself doing little to take of the edge – and she shook her head; "I have been trying to find you all week! _This_ is the most that you and I have spoken since our _wedding day._ "

Regulus nodded, lowering his eyes.

When he didn't answer – unable to say anything to either explain or defend himself – Julia's eyes closed in frustration and she reached up, pressing a hand to her forehead before running it through her hair, and Regulus could feel it – the pain he was putting her through, already – and he said the only thing he possibly could.

"I'm sorry."

Her hand dropped from her hair and she met his eyes, unyieldingly.

"I'm sorry, Julia."

Her jaw set, and her eyes remained upon him – as if daring him to look away – before she answered.

"For marrying me?"

Regulus shook his head. He was too selfish to be sorry for that.

"For not being able to give you what you deserve."

If anything, Julia looked more struck – more exasperated – by _that_ response than she would have been, had he said he'd wished they'd never gone through with the wedding, before she bit out.

"What do you think I deserve?"

_Everything_.

"A life…a future. To not have to be scared every time you walk out the door –"

"Okay, stop," Julia sighed, shaking her head, before she met his eyes and there was that fire and a conviction in hers that immediately had him mesmerized, unable to look away.

"I chose _this_ life. I chose you. I _married_ you, Regulus. And what I _deserve_ is a husband who is _present_ in that marriage."

Regulus drew in a breath in the face of her certitude – despite what she had seen and endured immediately in the days that had followed their nuptials – eyes lowering, unable to stop them, and she went on.

"I have never thought that this was going to be a fairytale," Julia said, a little more quietly, but no less sure; "I'm here because I know that what you and I have is _real –_ "

Regulus eyes lifted at that.

"So be real with me, Regulus."

For a moment, he just stared at her.

He knew what she was asking of him. Asking him to give her everything – to go all in for her as she had for him – and let her see him, all of him, and that was something he had never done.

Not with anyone.

He never could.

Even with Evelyn, he couldn't do it.

They had fought – Regulus and Evelyn – the first five or so times he'd done this; that first year after the Dark Lord's fall. Left for weeks and weeks at a time, unable to bear the remorse and the shame and the grief that would take hold; flashes of what he'd seen triggered by the slightest of things.

Evelyn's touch. Malachi's smile.

Until, eventually, the fighting had stopped. And they had just carried on and on. She wouldn't leave, and neither would he. And so, they had become trapped in the cycle. Unable to live with one another. Unable to live without.

But Julia wouldn't do that.

She would leave.

She would _die_ before she'd allow herself to live like that.

And so, if Regulus was unable to live without her; he'd have to do it. Make the leap.

Maybe he'd always known that.

Maybe he'd always known, since that first day they'd met – when she'd looked him in the eye and told him ' _no regrets'_ – and he'd kept coming back.

That Julia Bradbury was going to be the one.

Regulus drew in a breath, his heart hammering; "Alright."

Julia met his eyes. Her fury seemed to have died away at the sincerity in that single word. As if she knew – as he did – that there would be no going back.

"Alright," the breath he released quivered.

"I am afraid that I have… _ruined_ your life. Every time that I come to that door…I _can't_ open it, because I'm afraid that you are going to be dead."

His hand shook as he lifted it, fingertips pressed to his eyelids, and he willed himself to hold it back – at least a little – when he thought of all those who _were_ dead – of Evelyn in his arms, found first, and then of Malachi, lifeless on the floor in the basement – all because of him, and then he dropped his hand and met her eyes once more.

And Julia was looking at him with so much understanding and so much _love,_ so there _with_ him, _behind_ him,that he just…

"And I'm afraid that one day…you're going to stop _looking_ at me the way that you do. And soon, you're going to see everything. You're going to see me. The real me. The person that _I_ see, when I look in the mirror."

She looked back at him and there was still so much compassion and so much sadness and so much love; all for him.

"I'm afraid, Julia. I'm afraid."

His eyes drifted down, then, because he _couldn't_.

He drew in a breath, his eyes on the floor, and his voice was no longer steady; becoming quieter, smaller, barely more than a murmur when he finally said it.

"So…I keep people away…But…"

He drew in a ragged breath, while his eyes squeezed shut.

His voice a whisper.

"I _don't_ want to be alone."

His voice broke on his last word spoken.

And he hung his head, his hands pressed to his face, as if that might stop the tears that sheer will could no longer stop from falling – not anymore – and his sobs were quiet, muffled against his palms.

But he wasn't alone.

He felt Julia's hands on the sides of his face, felt her draw him down, holding him close, and her lips pressed to his hair, his name a murmur against it – touched and spoken to with so much tenderness – and she held him tight until he was able to pull it together.

He drew back, slightly, meeting her eyes.

And her eyes glimmered with tears, as he knew his must, also. And her voice was still filled with it – all of her compassion and all of her admiration and all of her love – when she told him, quietly, surely.

"I _see_ you, Regulus."

Her fingers trailed his cheek, the track of his tears, her eyes all for him.

"I've always seen you."

She drew his forehead to hers and he went – knowing, that wherever she led, he would follow – and she told him, in a murmur; "You don't have to hide from me. I'm never going anywhere."

Regulus released a breath, crumbling once more under her unwavering certainty in them and in _him_ , and he reached for her.

And she went – just as she always did when he asked – and they held one another tight, as, for the first time in his life, Regulus finally – unable to hold it all back, any longer – allowed himself to break.

With the only person who had ever shown him how.


	74. September 1995: Horcrux Child

Daphne rolled her eyes, crumpling up the letter that she had been reading, and tossed it into her bag.

"Something wrong?" Malachi asked, over the top of the book he'd been reading.

"Just a letter from my father, _gently_ reminding Max E. MacLean that if his next article is to feature in the next paper, it needs to reach him by the end of the week."

Malachi said nothing, eyes going back to the book in front of him.

"Hey –" Harry kicked his foot from where he sat opposite, the three of them huddled together in the further side of the library – which had seemed to have become 'their' spot this past week – as far from Mrs. Pince's eyes and ears as possible; " – did you see the Notice that went up this morning?"

"What Notice?"

"The One World Movement."

"Oh. The poster?"

Malachi didn't sound all that enthused, which Harry – and Daphne – thought was crazy. How unmoved _Malachi_ seemed to be, now, by the way his words had managed to move so many people – much too burned by the experience of seeing Astoria kidnapped for his silence – and no amount of coaxing from either of them could get him to pick up the quill again. Even to send to _other_ newspapers. Malachi insisting it would just happen again.

"Not the poster; the Student Organization. It's a Club, I guess; one of the Sixth years set it up, a Ravenclaw. There's already been a ton of interest."

"Oh."

Malachi looked a little bit interested, himself – but he quickly hid it – and his eyes went back to his book.

"Um, you should _go_ Malachi!" Daphne piped up, sharing an exasperated look with Harry; "The whole thing is about _you._ You should meet them; the people – they're _your_ people."

"They're not my people," Malachi whispered, blushing now; "I don't have people. And I'm not _talking_ and giving _speeches_ to sixth years; forget it."

Harry and Daphne shared an amused glance between them, at that – at Malachi's shyness – but their eyes lingered upon one another, a little bit longer than they really should, and Harry felt himself blush as well. He ducked his head, his smile turning a little shy – and Daphne's turned mischievous, obviously noticing – and he got to his feet.

"I – uh – there's this book –"

There was no book but Harry scampered around the corner, trying to find one – any would do just to give him a second to get his flutters sorted out – and he was so caught up in thoughts of Daphne that he didn't even notice Draco Malfoy standing in the next aisle until he'd almost run into him.

"Watch it, Potter."

Malfoy practically spat at him as he shot him a look, before he carried on the way Harry had come, and headed left in the direction of the exit.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Sure, he felt sorry for him, but that guy was a prick.

He grabbed a book from the nearest shelf – one that revealed Daphne and Malachi on the other side so, obviously, he could have just grabbed it from where he'd been sitting – so he put it back and took one from the other side – it was about Transfiguration, a decent enough cover for his escape – and headed back.

"Well, I think you could do it," Daphne was saying, when Harry returned; "The things you write. You're a born leader, Malachi. You shouldn't be so _shy_ about it; people are already impressed with you – even Harry's friends, right?"

"Um…yeah," Harry nodded, sitting down; "It was Hermione who pointed out the group. She wants to go."

Malachi closed the book he was reading, getting to his feet; "I just remembered, I've got a meeting with Professor Snape."

"A meeting?" Daphne asked, in puzzlement at the statement; "About what?"

"How can you have a meeting with Snape?" Harry piped up, glancing at the nearest timepiece; he'd been trying to catch Snape all week; "It's three; he won't even be in school. He'll be at the Foundation."

Daphne looked at Harry at that, in even more puzzlement that he knew the schedule of the Slytherin Head of House, and Harry quickly corrected himself; "I mean, _you_ told me that –" he said, to Malachi, who was staring back in him in annoyance; " – remember."

Malachi rolled his eyes.

"Later."

He left, without bothering to save him – from either his slip up or from spending more time, alone, with Daphne – and Harry looked nervously in Daphne's direction.

Daphne gave him a smile when he met her eyes.

Harry took that as a good sign – a _win_ – and smiled back; "Um…"

Apparently promising smiles weren't enough to snuff out his nerves and his heart started beating a little too fast, his face reddening, right away, and Daphne glanced down at the parchment she had been writing on, carrying on.

"Did you want to learn more?" Harry blurted out.

Daphne looked back at him; "More?"

"More – _defence_ ," Harry clarified; "I…I could show you more. If you want."

Daphne got another smile – it was coy, almost, that time – and she lowered her eyes. But she didn't say no – as Harry was half-expecting – instead, lifting her head and nodding at him.

"Yeah. More would be good."

Harry smiled – his little heart soaring at her acceptance of his not-date – and he nodded; "Okay. Okay. Great!"

Daphne's smile widened.

Perhaps his response was a bit over-enthusiastic. For a tutoring session.

"Um…where? Where should we do it?" he said, glancing around the small space they were in.

They couldn't do it in the library, definitely. And the Great Hall, there'd be other students there; same problem by the lake.

Not that he cared about being seen with her – lots of people had seen him with her, by now – but…it'd be nicer if they were…alone.

"I dunno; the lake?" Daphne suggested a place he'd already discounted.

"How about the Astronomy Tower?" Harry suggested, as casually as he could; "There's no one…I mean…you might get put off. You know, if there was an audience."

Daphne's lips twitched; "Oh, _I_ might be put off?"

"Well. Yeah. I mean…there's no reason for _me_ to be," Harry shrugged, not really sure what the twinkle in her eye meant.

Daphne just nodded; "Alright. Astronomy tower. Have to be careful, though. It's a make-out spot, right? Don't want to get in other kids' way."

Harry was blushing, furiously, now – although, obviously, he'd known it was someplace that kids did go to get…close – and he told himself that was _not_ why he'd picked it. He'd never even held a girl's hand, much less kissed them, especially not the way he'd heard other boys talk about it in the Common Room.

"Well. I…I don't think they do that until later. We could go early. After Duel Club. I…"

Harry realized, despondently, that he had an occlumency session that night – maybe he could feign illness or something?

He quashed the idea, immediately; Snape would gut him if he found out.

"Tomorrow's Saturday; how about in the morning? About 10? After breakfast?"

"Yeah," Daphne agreed, before lifting her quill and going back to her writing; "Sure. It's a date."

A date?

_Was it?_

Had he just missed himself asking a girl to go out with him for the first time? Was he really _that_ bad at this?

Harry didn't realise he was mulling and staring until Daphne's eyes lifted from the parchment, meeting his once more. And she gave him a smile – shy-like – and Harry smiled back.

Realised he didn't care if he'd missed it – if this _was_ a date – and he suddenly felt giddy; like he had to run after Malachi and tell him, immediately, of his great success.

But he didn't.

He just sat there, his eyes lingering upon her where she sat across from him a little longer and basked in the delight of it.

That, maybe, Daphne Greengrass _had_ just agreed to go out with him.

And then he panicked, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do when they were actually _there._

* * *

"You're not going into the Foundation?"

Julia allowed Regulus to lead her down the hallway, his hands over her eyes, and he touched his nose to her temple when he answered, cheekily.

"The Foundation? Never heard of the place –" Julia chuckled as they carried on, reaching the threshold to the bedroom; "No. Today, I plan to do nothing – nothing at all – other than spend the entire day loving my incredible wife."

He dropped his hands from her eyes, down to her shoulders, standing behind her as the newly-decorated bedroom was revealed to her; with silks and candles and strawberries and chocolates and rose petals – everything, really that he thought would be suitable for a wedding night – and he gave her a grin when she turned her eyes upon him over her shoulder.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" he gave his eyebrows a wiggle, before he touched his lips to her temple; "You deserve the very best and so you _shall_ have the very best."

"Oh, this is all for my benefit, is it? Nothing to do with the fact you're obviously _gagging_ for it by now."

"Oh. Touché, my love!" Regulus laughed while Julia shot a cheeky grin his way; "Now you mention it, it _has_ been a while, hasn't it?" he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing his lips to her cheek; "In fact, I believe our _last_ predates our wedding. And I'm sure you know what that means."

"Do enlighten me."

Regulus turned her to face him, lifting her chin with his thumb and forefinger, and gave her a smile.

"Well, as you are surely aware marriage contracts are considered _invalid_ , so long as a consummation has not taken place," he tapped her nose with his finger, making her chuckle; "I feel it is _imperative_ that we rectify this at once."

Julia laughed.

"So that's to be the business of the day, is it? 'Validating' –" she raised an eyebrow, making quotations as she said it; " – our marriage contract."

"You know, Miss Bradbury –" Julia lifted her chin, her lips pursed but still twitching in amusement and he grinned; " _Mrs Black_. I'm starting to get the impression that my efforts are not being appreciated."

"Is that right?"

"Indeed. Come," he took her by the hand, drawing her into the room.

"As you see, we have candles – _floating_ candles, in fact!"

With a tilt of his head, the candles quickly levitated and started floating in an orbit around them, and Julia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, widely now, at his antics as he continued to draw her round the room.

"And we, of course, have your favourite fruit –" he stopped at the bowl of strawberries, alongside the grapes and chocolates, lifting one of them and holding it to her lips; she took it, teasing his fingers with her tongue, and he chuckled, delighted by her playing along, before he tugged her towards the bed.

" – and we have _silk_ sheets –" he ran his hand across them, wiggling his eyebrows in exaggerated-seductiveness, making her laugh again.

" – _And_ we even have music!" he gave another tilt of his head, and music filled the room; not too slow, but not too fast, certainly not so much so that he couldn't hold her close for it and he drew her into his arms; "I do know how you love to dance."

Julia smiled, allowing him to draw her close, and the two of them swayed in time to the melody that played, their eyes all for one another as they danced.

It was, obviously, not enough to make up for what he'd put her through – Regulus knew that – nor did it come close to – what Regulus believed – she deserved.

But he was done with all of that, now. Languishing in regrets and ruminating on the past and the future; no more.

As he'd told his son, they don't live in the future. And, thank Merlin, neither did they live in the past.

They had now, this moment – these moments – and Regulus was determined, now, that his new wife's faith in him and in them would not be proven wrong; that this marriage would never, not ever, become a regret, not for either of them. And with her decision to stay, he was determined that she _would_ have the very best; of this life, and of him, and that their time together – no matter how long or how brief – was going to be remarkable.

In fact, with each passing minute, Regulus became more and more convinced that it already was. That he should have found her, at all.

He touched his forehead to Julia's.

"How 'm I doing?"

Julia gave him a small smile, as they still swayed in time to the music; "Gotta say, I like your chances."

Regulus raised an eyebrow: "As much as you do my moves?"

He dipped her and she laughed, as he swung her back up in a spin.

"Maybe, even, a little more than that," she said, her smile adoring now, and he smiled in turn as he drew her closer. Cursing his own idiocy that he'd ever tried to keep her away.

He reached up a hand, caressing her cheek, almost reverently – for she certainly deserved reverence – before he pressed his lips to hers.

And she yielded.

The two of them slowly swaying in a dance back towards the bed.

* * *

Harry was so high he could have been walking on clouds, as he made his way down the corridor to the dungeons.

He had a date – an actual _date_ the next morning – with Daphne.

_Daphne._

He wasn't even pretending, anymore, that he didn't like her.

He _did_ like her.

 _A lot_.

Even more so since he'd seen her eyes shining bright and heard her laugh and seen her really, properly, smile. _At him_.

And he was delighted and nervous, in equal measure, and Malachi _had_ congratulated his success, when Harry had caught up with him at dinner – sitting at the Slytherin table for it that night – and Harry had noticed some curious glances from the nosey first years they'd been sitting amongst when he'd told him.

That Harry Potter was going out with Daphne Greengrass.

Harry was grinning widely at the thought, as he pushed open the door to Snape's office, practically bursting in – not even bothering to knock, he was so wrapped up in his own delighted thoughts – and strode across the threshold, bold as brass, only coming to a halt when he noticed Draco Malfoy standing opposite Snape, where the latter was sitting at the other side of his desk.

Snape looked momentarily alarmed, and then exasperated, and then composed all in the space of a single second.

"Here for your detention, Mr. Potter. And promptly, too. _Wonders_ never cease."

He jerked his head in the direction of the cauldron cupboard – as if the punishment had already been agreed – and Harry immediately heeded his lead, heading into the cupboard and beginning to gather up the dirtiest cauldrons he could find under the guise of a night of cleaning.

Harry could hear the voices of Snape and Malfoy getting closer, as they drew nearer to the cupboard, heading towards the door to the office.

" – should you need it, Draco."

"I don't, Sir."

"Very well. Return to your dorm room."

The door to the office closed, just as Harry stepped out of the cupboard with an arm full of cauldrons.

Snape crossed his arms where he stood a few feet away, eyeing him with all the exasperation in the world; "I have half a mind to order you to clean all of those, Mr. Potter."

Harry raised his shoulders in an apologetic shrug; "Sorry. I was…thinking about something else."

"Your mind is to be on the here and now, always. Put those away."

Snape strode to the front of the room.

Harry chucked the cauldrons back into the cupboard – Snape stopping in his steps and tensing for a second at the clatter – and hurried after him.

"You have – I hope – been maintaining the defences that you and I built over the summer?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, still in such a good mood he couldn't help smiling as he said it; "I – uh – there was a bit of an incident. The other day. Well – the beginning of the week. It hasn't happened again, though."

"An incident?" Snape turned to face him, then, with a furrow upon his brow.

Upon his turning, Harry realised that Snape looked better than Harry had seen him in weeks. His usual self. It was a sight that – last year – Harry had never thought could give him so much…well… _joy_.

"You look better, Sir," Harry told him, glad to see it; "You're not having to see him, anymore?"

Snape lifted his chin; "Mr. Potter. That is something that is _not_ up for discussion."

"Well. No. I know," Harry shrugged, giving him a smile; "Just…I'm glad. It's good. That you're good."

Snape's look softened – marginally – under Harry's warm statement, and Harry's smile widened.

Snape's lips twitched – the threat of a smile – that the man snuffed out by averting his eyes; "Elaborate on your _incident,_ Mr. Potter, if you will."

"Another dream," Harry shrugged; "I lost control again. I got Ron, this time; same as Malachi."

"I see. And had you –"

"No," Harry lowered his eyes; "I…I don't even remember falling asleep, I just –"

"Mr. Potter."

"I know, it's not an excuse," Harry said, his mood dampened, somewhat, by Snape's obvious disappointment; "But…well. We could look on the positive side. At least we know he can still do it."

"Under what possible scenario would that be considered a _positive_?"

"Well. Because – now we know he can still do it. Even at Hogwarts. He can get me anywhere."

"Fantastic."

"I mean, we can _learn_ more from it –" Harry rolled his eyes; "And it was…different, this time."

"Different. In what respect?"

"Well. In my old nightmares, I was always the snake. And with Malachi – I was _him._ But…this time. I was _both_ of them. Him and the snake. It was like…I was _inside_ both of them, jumping about. And inside me, too. Jumping between the three of us. Kind of like I was…"

Harry broke off, unable to find the right word to describe it.

"Untethered?" Snape offered.

Harry looked up at him at the tone – one Harry couldn't quite decipher – and Snape had his eyes upon him, regarding him closely.

Harry nodded; "Yeah. Untethered. Like…I wasn't in my own body for a bit. I was jumping between three of us. Like we were all connected. And…I think _he_ noticed it too. He stopped doing what he was doing. When he felt me."

Snape's eyes were upon him, regarding him so closely, now, that Harry was almost unnerved by the scrutiny.

After a moment, Snape cleared his throat; "May I?"

Harry nodded, immediately.

Snape lifted his wand.

" _Legillimens."_

Just as before, there were no memories of it. Nothing of the dream there at all.

Just the moment before he fell asleep and then Ron on the floor beneath him, as all the Gryffindors in the room shouted around him or tried to pull him from on top of him.

The memory of what he'd seen in the in-between not _his_ memory to find.

Snape turned away from Harry when he withdrew. Stood with his back to him and his arms crossed, and Harry was bewildered at his reaction.

At his lack of questions.

"Um…" Harry began, uncertainly – extremely unnerved, now, in light of Snape's response – and he asked; "- do you know what's happening to me, Sir?"

Snape's head turned, slightly, in his direction – no other part of him did at first – and then he cleared his throat and turned to face Harry, entirely composed.

"It is something that will require further investigation. For now, our focus shall be as it has always been: to maintain your barriers, protect your mind from attack, and to – always – ensure that these methods are exercised prior to every sleep cycle."

Harry nodded, not disagreeing with the instruction, and then Snape lifted his chin.

"With that said, we shall begin. Pull them up, Harry."

Harry hesitated, meeting Snape's eyes at the rare use of his name.

If it had been a slip up Snape didn't acknowledge it. The professor just kept his eyes upon him, waiting, and there was something different.

Something was wrong.

Harry knew Snape well enough, now – a statement he thought he'd _never_ be able to make – to know that something wasn't right.

And he also knew him well enough to know that he wasn't going to get anywhere with that, by asking him questions, the walls very clearly up now.

So, Harry nodded and did as Snape said; pulling up his barriers as the lesson began.

* * *

Severus sat at his desk, entirely still, once Harry had left.

His body may have been still, but his mind and his heart were racing. And they _had_ been ever since Harry had related the details of his most recent nightmare – not a nightmare – to him. So much so, that Severus had barely managed to muster up the composure necessary to begin and finish the lesson.

Severus didn't know _much_ about it. But he knew enough. Enough of Regulus' task that it left little room for doubt.

The very task that Dumbledore had insisted that he and Regulus never confer upon; Severus' position too precarious for such information to be known by him.

Severus reached down, pulling open the drawer of his desk, and he tugged out the thick roll of parchments Regulus had given to him almost two weeks before.

He unrolled them, tossing aside all the rubbish on Blood Magic, and gripped the parchments he had put to the back of the pile.

_A Sharing of Vessels: The Nature of Sentient Horcruxes._

Severus' hands shook so much that he had to place the parchments down upon his desk and lean his palms upon it, so that he could actually read it.

Every sign and indication to look for in order to identify a living horcrux.

Certain – as much as he pleaded with the deities that it _could not_ be so – that he no longer needed these parchments to do so.

He pleaded, with each word his eyes took in, moving rapidly across the parchment, that it _couldn't_ be.

That Harry – one of his _own_ children – could not _possibly_ be one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes.

* * *

Severus was still there, at his desk, for Merlin knows how much longer after he realised it.

Harry was a horcrux.

 _Harry_ was a _horcrux_.

Even with the evidence laid plain as day before him, Severus could barely comprehend it. The fact, itself, and what it would mean.

Severus knew little about Regulus' horcrux task – Dumbledore had seen to that, citing the need for a division of knowledge between them, neither to confer upon their individual assignments – but he knew enough, certainly enough to know that in order for the Dark Lord to be defeated, each and every horcrux must first be eliminated.

Or the cycle would simply continue, as it had already done twice before, so long as a horcrux – even just one single horcrux – remained, the Dark Lord would continue to rise and the war would never end.

Severus drew in a breath that trembled, eyes closing, when the reality hit him.

Harry had to die.

Harry – so full of _cheek_ and of brightness and of kindness and of _life –_ had to _die_ or the war – this never-ending war – would continue on and on, indefinitely.

Severus could barely stomach it. The world without Harry. His own life, without that child – one of his own –

Severus dropped his head into his hands, elbows upon his desk, the thought not at all welcome. Not now.

His own child. It was a thought that had warmed him, so often, these past few months. Unsure, exactly, when it had first begun. But he had dared to think it, whenever that infuriatingly cocky smile would turn his way; whenever Harry would bound towards him, fearlessly, entirely at ease in his presence; whenever those green eyes – his mother's eyes – would turn upon him, with that concern or exasperation or amusement; each cheeky comment; each trusting look.

Their time at the house, at the functions, at the wedding. Harry rushing back into his office pleading with him – _with him_ – not to die.

It was all so very close to what he and Lily had dreamed of – their family and their future – he could _feel_ it there, so close within their grasp.

He and Lily and Harry and Grace.

All four of them.

That Harry – that any one of them – should _not_ make it was unthinkable.

Not after everything that they had been through. Everything that they had put themselves through – putting their children put through _hell_ – on the promise that it would all be worth it in the end; that it was a future worth fighting for.

It could not have all been for nothing.

It could not have been a lie.

It could _not_ be.

Severus released a breath.

He snatched at the parchments – the offending parchments Regulus had given to him – how could someone have not seen it sooner; the signs were so glaring, the connection so obvious, that it was ludicrous that they should all have missed it.

But he and Regulus had never conferred.

Regulus was hunted – one of the uppermost wanted – and one of the poorest occlumens in the Order; it would not do for Severus to reveal too much. To reveal anything at all of what was going on behind the scenes with the _prophecy child._

And Severus was the spy – he who hung off the arm of the Dark Lord whenever the occasion called for it – it would not do for Regulus to reveal to Severus anything at all about his horcrux hunt. No. What if _he_ should fail; all their secrets along with him.

That would be foolish.

Oh, how they were both fools.

Those were the arguments that demanded their secrecy and their silence from one another; made by someone who, Severus realised with each passing moment, knew _exactly_ what was going on here.

Severus got to his feet, striding from his office, not caring about the hour – for it was well past midnight – and made his way to the Headmaster's office.

He could see the light that glimmered inside as the spiral staircase eventually – _finally_ – dispatched him at entrance and he did not bother knocking – beyond such civilities, by now – and he opened the door and walked inside.

Dumbledore was behind his desk, working late into the night, it seemed, and he greeted Severus with a smile.

"Ah. Severus. What brings you to my office at this late hour?"

"How long have you known?"

Severus surprised himself, that his voice was so calm – it was certainly no reflection on his inner thoughts and feelings, at that moment – the only sign of his inner turmoil the slightest twitch of his lip.

Dumbledore regarded him, calmly, for a moment where he sat, and he quite clearly knew what it was Severus was speaking of – and Severus wondered if he, too, were just as distressed – before he nodded; "I had expected that this discussion would be forthcoming. Please, do take a seat, Severus."

"No."

He stepped closer, so he was standing behind the chair offered, repeating the question; "How long have you known?"

"I have suspected for some time. Indeed, in light of what happened at New Year, my suspicions were more or less confirmed."

"And yet you concealed it from me?"

Dumbledore smiled, regretfully; "I feared in the aftermath of what occurred, it may not have been the best time to share with you my thoughts on the matter."

"Oh, don't give me that!" Severus spat; "Do not – _do not_ – use what happened to Lily to excuse the fact that you have concealed this from me for years – for _years_ – you surely must of known of this prior to what happened at the Foundation. The signs – the signs! – were so obvious it is impossible that you could have missed them!"

"Obvious, Severus; and yet you are only now coming to this conclusion. The first to do so, I might add, other than myself."

"Because you _forbid_ Regulus and I from discussing our assigned tasks. If I were to go to Regulus, this moment, and reveal to him all that has happened – the parseltongue, the nightmares, the possessions – he would have realised _instantly_ and –"

"And you would have learned the truth a few months earlier; to what ends, Severus? The sooner you were to learn of it, the longer it would be a burden for you to bear."

"Oh –" Severus nodded, lips twisting; "Well – _thank you_ , Headmaster, for lessening those burdens of mine."

Severus lifted his chin, feeling his blood start to boil in his veins.

"Then, I am right. He must die. Harry."

"I am afraid it is so. The incident occurred, I believe, quite unintentionally, the night that Sirius Black gave his own life to save the life of his Godson; Voldemort's soul so unstable that it could not withstand the rebound of his own Killing Curse meant for Harry. And when that happened –"

"It bound to the only living being within the room," Severus completed the story, entirely without emotion, having read the text over and over and over, in the hours before he had come here.

Dumbledore inclined his head, at Severus' unspoken order to get on with it.

"So long as Harry lives – the fragment of Voldemort's soul that broke apart from the whole lives on within him – and while it does so, Lord Voldemort cannot die."

Severus' hands gripped the sides of the chair he stood behind – the world, _his world,_ seeming to vanish beneath his feet – as Dumbledore confirmed it. That everything that he and Lily had done, everything they had fought for, all of it had been a _lie._

And that in order to end this war – this war that was tearing apart the lives of so many, so many who they held dear, each and every day – their own _son_ was going to have to die. _Sacrificed_ , by them, for a future they had promised him. A future that he would never see.

No.

_No._

Dumbledore was still speaking, through the haze of Severus' world shattering:

" – but Voldemort must do it himself, Severus, that is essential; when you reveal the truth to Harry, after you have killed me –"

Severus released a sound, cutting him off – he could hear no more of this – and he raised a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose; "Stop. _Stop."_

Dumbledore did.

Simply sat there and regarded Severus with enviable calmness – and compassion – which only served to infuriate him further.

Severus drew in a breath as he lowered his hand, composing himself as much as he could.

"You have _used_ me," Severus ground out; "I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. All under the guise that I was keeping Harry Potter protected – _safe_ – and now you are telling me that it has all been for nothing? That your – _our_ – intended outcome, is to order that boy to his _death_!"

"For nothing, Severus?" Dumbledore gave him a smile, a sympathetic one, now – as if he, too, shared in his grief – and he nodded; "Indeed, I know how you have come to care for him. I, too, care for Harry; perhaps far too much. So much so, that I challenge anyone who has ever met him to say that they would not question it; that they would not resist the inevitable. But is that a defence, Severus, that we care too much for him? For what do we care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures are to be slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now the child whom we both care for so deeply is alive and well and happy?"

" _Nameless – faceless_ –" Severus whispered, as he shook his head, his eyes closed, before he burst out; "He is my child!"

Both were taken aback by it. By both the statement and the outburst: never had either spoken so openly about it. Nothing more than Severus' occasional slips and Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and winks.

Never had either of them said the words. That Severus had a family – a life – and that Harry was _his_. Indeed, never before had the statement left Severus' lips.

Harry was his child. His _son_.

Severus lifted his chin, eyes locked on Dumbledore's when he went on.

"And you have _known._ You have _known_ what that boy is to me. What his mother is to me. His sister. You have known it all, all this time."

Dumbledore nodded, slowly.

"Yes. And I am so very sorry, Severus."

Severus could see it – that he meant it – and he even conceded that, perhaps, it was never supposed to come to this. He had spied for him long after Lily had been spared, and he had remained, after all, to see it through for Neville Longbottom but such facts did not ease the grief that the truth of what was to come brought upon him and what it meant.

And it did not change the fact that this entire scenario – everything that had taken place since the night Sirius Black died and Harry had been Marked – played so _perfectly_ into Dumbledore's plans.

"No," Severus swallowed, shaking his head; " _No."_

Dumbledore's eye narrowed, slightly, as Severus went on.

"You have had Regulus hunting Horcruxes for _years_. You have known it all. You have known about Harry. And you have known about me. You have known about our _family_. And you allowed it; you…you _wished_ for it. It played so perfectly into your objectives, so much so, that I cannot believe that I did not see it."

Severus straightened where he stood, as it all came back to him.

"Where, before, you were so against Lily and I resuming our acquaintance, all of a sudden, it became a source of mirth. Of encouragement; that we should pursue one another. And in doing so, ensuring that Harry and I would have developed a trust. A kinship between us so that when the time comes, and when _I_ am the one who is to tell him that he has to die – for don't think I haven't noticed how you have kept _your_ distance from him, Albus – he will know that it must be the truth. He whom you have known he trusts; because you think he will not deny me. That he knows I would not ask him – _could not_ – unless it was the only way. And so, Harry would be _compelled_ to walk to his death."

Severus shook his head, eyes closing, sickened at how terribly – how _brilliantly_ – he had been played.

And he clenched his jaw – he would sooner _rot_ in Azkaban – and when he opened his eyes once more, he stepped forward, pointing his finger and speaking with all the certainty he suddenly felt.

"Well I am afraid you are to be _disappointed_ , Headmaster. You have bet it all on the wrong man."

Dumbledore eyebrows lifted, slightly, the only indication of his surprise.

Severus shook his head.

"I will not do it. I _will_ not!" he leaned his palms upon the desk, leaning forward, eyes boring into Dumbledore's as he declared it; "And I…am _out."_

The two of them held one another's look.

And then Severus turned and strode from the office.

* * *

Severus hadn't intended on going to the house.

He had intended on doing nothing other than getting out of Dumbledore's sight and getting as far away from Hogwarts as he could.

But, of course, where else would he go but home.

Even in his state of agitation, he had been as careful as he approached – knowing, even then, when he had just thrown in the towel and _dared_ Dumbledore to do it, to call in the aurors and ship him off to Azkaban, that to let himself and his cover go _completely_ served no one, least of all his family – and, before he knew it, he was standing in the doorway of his daughter's bedroom.

The door was only slightly ajar, just the way Grace liked it.

She liked the security of the light from the hall – of knowing her mother and, once-upon-a-time, her father were just two doors down – but not so wide, that the brightness interfered too much with the shadows on the walls.

Grace enjoyed the shadows; she could look at them and see things, create stories of what each of the shapes were and what they were doing. Her imagination running wild, as always.

Severus smiled, in spite of himself, and touched his forehead to the doorframe: eyes upon her sleeping face.

He was tempted – oh-so-tempted – to just do it. To go to her, lift her into his arms, and carry her into his and Lily's bed and the three of them just curl up together, as they used to.

But – Severus realised with a jolt – Harry would be missing.

And Harry could not be missing.

The thought sickened him, now, that he ever had been. That the three of them had ever been a family without him. They would never be. Could _never_ be.

Severus drew back from the doorway and made his way further down the hall.

His eyes lingered upon the moving pictures on the walls that had always been there, as he passed.

Harry was in all of them – as he should be – each and every one of them. Harry, eight years old, holding his new baby sister in his arms, beaming proudly. Harry, four years old, smiling brightly as he was held aloft by Sirius Black; Lily and Harry and Grace, recent, only two years before, the children wrapped up tight in their mother's arms, smiling widely.

In the past, Severus' eyes were always drawn to Grace – there were just as many pictures lining the walls of his daughter. But, tonight, his eyes were all for Harry. The sparking eyes so like his mothers, and the cheeky smile, and an expression so full of _life_.

Severus stopped at the door to their bedroom. Where he knew Lily would be inside.

He hesitated only a moment. He doubted Dumbledore would dispatch the Ministry aurors after him that night, if at all – he would, no doubt, attempt to persuade him further, do his best to convince him that one of his own children's lives were entirely worth the sacrifice – but if he _did_ they could come find him here.

With the woman who should be his wife, in the home they shared with their children.

Severus went inside, before he could think any more of it, shrugging out of his robes down to his shirt before he climbed into the bed beside her.

Lily stirred as the mattress dipped, lifting her head with a bleary frown. The fog quickly cleared and her eyes widened; "Severus?"

Severus laid his head upon the pillow – her pillow, so that he was close – saying nothing.

"Wh…what are you doing here?" she whispered.

He had no words for her, he realised it as he looked into her eyes.

She still had hope. She still had that dream. A vision and a reason to fight; for that future, the future they had promised one another; promised Harry and promised Grace. And he could find no words to tell her otherwise.

To tell her it was a life they would never have.

To tell her that her son had to die.

"I slipped away."

Lily frowned – for this was obviously not right, no longer _done_ – and she reached up, her hand cupping his cheek; "Is something wrong?"

Severus' stomach tightened – that sickening feeling returning to him – and, still, he could find no words for her.

Harry has to die.

It whispered in his mind – haunted him – as her green eyes, eyes shared by her son, looked into his own with so much love and concern.

Severus could not bear to speak the words.

Not even to think them.

They had hidden from Harry for years.

They had stripped their daughter of her memories.

They had lied to the world.

They had stayed apart.

And in the end, it all came down to this.

Harry had to die.

Severus touched his forehead back to hers.

"I can't tell you."

It came out hoarse. Grief stricken.

As if Harry were already lost.

He felt Lily's hand on his neck, drawing him close. Her lips pressed to his cheek.

"Oh."

Lily's voice was a whisper: full of understanding. Realising – thinking – it was the war: the secrets he was forced to keep, the lies he was forced to tell, the sights he was forced to witness. Things that could never be spoken.

Which it was. Their life had _become_ this war. So entangled within one another, that they would never escape it. They never could; not now.

Of all the secrets and lies he'd been obliged to bear; of all the horrors he had been compelled to witness; this was the worst of them. This was the one that would break him.

"Lily."

She drew back from him, still holding him, meeting his eyes once more.

Severus reached up, touching her cheek, his voice a murmur, but entirely sincere. Meaning every word spoken with all that he had.

"Whatever it takes for our family to make it through this…for our children…I will do it. I swear it."

Lily's eyes flickered between his, her bewilderment apparent, but she seemed to understand the words spoken were as much for himself, as they were for her.

Lily gave him a small smile, a nod and then she drew him back to her and he went, holding her close.

The words a promise.

A _vow_.

That, so long as Severus was breathing, no harm would come to any of them.

Not to Lily.

Not to Grace.

And not to Harry.

* * *

"Okay, so – _stupefy!"_

The dummy that Harry had transfigured hit the ground of the astronomy tower.

Daphne got another little laugh – the kind that made him get all warm – as she glanced his way, smiling in delight at her success.

Harry smiled back at her, where he stood at her side.

They'd been there for over an hour now and – thankfully – they'd relaxed and just started to get on with it.

It was actually turning out to be more of a tutoring session – his original thought – than a date.

Harry had been so nervous – so _red_ , his voice almost stuttering – on arrival and finding her there, that he'd immediately suggested they – _"get down to it!" –_ and Daphne had laughed, eyeing him at his statement, and he had blushed even harder – if that were even possible – quickly going about setting up some things – like the dummy – for her to practice on.

"How long have you been doing this?" Daphne asked him, as he went over to stand it back up; "You're far better than everyone else."

"Oh," Harry ducked his head, blushing again at what seemed to be a compliment; "I…since third year. The lessons, anyway. But some stuff happened, earlier than that, I…I guess I've just been – y'know – learning as I go along."

Daphne didn't seem as nervous as he did. So confident that Harry was sure, at first, that she _hadn't_ actually meant this as a date – and perhaps she'd been joking when she'd said it the day before – but, then, sometimes he'd catch a coy little smile, and the way she'd lower her eyes at something he'd said and, he was sure then, that she felt _something._

And he hoped it wasn't just that he made her uncomfortable.

But, then, if he made her uncomfortable she surely wouldn't have agreed to come here and spend her Saturday morning with him, entirely alone – no kids had come there looking to make-out, as Daphne had suggested they might – and she seemed in no real rush to leave.

"Okay, so…good," Harry said, giving her a smile – another of many, that he couldn't seem to help around her now; "That – that was – I mean, obviously it worked –" he indicated, vaguely at the dummy he had just straightened back up; "So – okay. _Right_. You were stunning. The _spell_ was stunning – what it was called - _stupefy_ – Let's do body-binding now."

Harry approached, knowing he was blushing furiously – so red that he felt hot under the collar – and Daphne had her eyes on the ground and he could see she was holding back laughter – little bubbles escaping – as he reached her; "Do you know this one?"

"You might have to put your arm around me, like before," she suggested, seriously – though there was a little twinkle in her eyes; "Just to be sure."

"Oh, okay," Harry immediately did as she said – no hesitation whatsoever – and he wrapped an arm around her, taking her wand hand in his. He liked this a lot, the way she felt standing there, leaning a little bit into him – he could smell her hair and that made his heart flutter, daftly – and he made to speak – _"so" –_ but it came out hoarse and he quickly cleared his throat, before trying again.

"So. Body binding. It's ' _Petrificus Totalus';_ bit of a mouthful."

"It's a good one," Daphne said, as she turned her head to meet his eyes – she was _very_ close, her face, her _lips,_ millimeters from his – and she gave him a little smile; "Freezing someone exactly where you want 'em."

"Um…" Harry nodded, swallowing nervously; "Yeah."

She was so close and he thought, maybe, that was supposed to be flirty – well, it _definitely_ was, she had that look, again – and he felt so nervous that his hand holding hers was getting sweaty. How gross. Daphne didn't pull her hand back. But _he_ almost did.

And they were still looking at one another.

Daphne licked her bottom lip, catching it between her teeth, and making it shine and he was suddenly struck by something he'd never felt before – something deep in his gut – like a _yearning_ , that he just _had_ to kiss her.

"It's Malachi's favourite spell," he blurted out, instead.

Daphne's eyebrows raised; "Mac?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, using the opportunity of speaking to close his eyes, averting them when he opened them to nod at the dummy; "He's great at it. Body-binding. He's not good at much, really, combat-wise. And, y'know Malachi, he…he wouldn't actually _use_ it on anyone. Especially after what happened with Emma and his dad. His dad was body-binded and forced to watch –"

"I know, he told me," Daphne said, nodding, a little more somber now.

Harry hesitated.

 _Why_ had he been talking about Malachi's murdered girlfriend in the middle of his own date?

"It was awful," Daphne went on; "I couldn't believe it when I heard. I mean – yeah. We know Mac. But…just seemed so _daring_ of him, to even speak to a girl. Nevermind actually fall for one. And for that to happen…"

"Oh, I dunno about that," Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes; "Before all of this, he spoke to girls all the time, outside of school. They can't keep away from him. He's…well. He's handsome, right?"

"Oh, _yeah._ "

Daphne laughed, as if that were obvious.

Harry glanced away.

Why was he pointing out that Malachi was handsome to _Daphne_ – although, clearly she had obviously noticed – and he realized, the arm he had around her, holding up her wand, was no longer so high. More just wrapped there, around her, as they talked.

"It was the way everyone else reacted – I mean, what happened was bad enough," Daphne was still thinking about Malachi – because Harry had idiotically brought him up – and she shook her head; "I hated it. I still do. The way people keep _going_ for him. I wish I'd know what you've taught me, now, back then; would've given Zabini a real fright," she giggled, meeting his eyes with a smile.

Harry smiled back.

"He just doesn't deserve it," Daphne shrugged; "He's got the kindest heart; he's probably the sweetest boy in the school."

Harry nodded, feeling stupid now; "Yeah…yeah, Malachi is…he's…"

His best friend. His brother. Someone he loved.

"Do you fancy him?" Harry blurted out.

Daphne looked stunned for a moment and then she laughed; " _What?"_

"Malachi," Harry cleared his throat, giving a shrug; "Do you fancy him?"

Daphne's eyes dropped from his, down to his arm – that was still wrapped around her – and she glanced away, her eyes widening – as if she couldn't believe what he was asking – and she giggled.

"I mean, the two of you spend a lot of time together. It'd make sense. If you and him started to –"

Harry hated every word that was coming out of his mouth and – for some reason – he felt silly for even saying them, much less thinking them, with the way Daphne looked so astonished with each word spoken, until she silenced him simply by meeting his eyes.

"Malachi, he's –" she gave Harry a smile, shaking her head; "He's far too sweet for me."

The two of them looked at one another.

Daphne effectively putting end to Harry's – unwanted – suspicions.

And when Harry still didn't do anything to express his _own_ wishes – even when Daphne's eyes drifted down a little bit, looking at his lips for a second – she rolled her eyes, still smiling, as she glanced back at the dummy.

She started to speak – obviously to ask a question about defence or something – but Harry quickly went on.

"What about me?"

Daphne looked back at him, sharply, obviously surprised.

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest.

"Am…" he cleared his throat; "Am I sweet, too?"

Daphne got a slow smile, before she lowered her eyes, and when she met his again her look was coy – her bottom lip caught between her teeth – and then she nodded.

"I think you might be just the right amount of sweetness."

Harry stared back at her.

 _Stunned_ simply by her words, no spell needed.

He should kiss her, he realized.

_Now._

This was their _moment!_ The much-coveted _moment_ that he had heard other kids talk about.

She'd just – basically – told him that she fancied him, after all. She thought he was sweet – not _too_ sweet, like Malachi – but the perfect amount of sweetness! He could be sweet, sure. He could be –

Daphne glanced away.

The moment passed.

No.

_No!_

Harry wondered if he should just kiss her, anyway, drop her wand hand, take her face in his hands, turn her back to face him and just kiss her, with certainty and grandiose gusto, like he'd seen Malachi's dad do with Julia a ton of times that summer – the only real couple he'd ever had much chance to witness, his mum and Snape's grinding on the kitchen chair notwithstanding – but Harry would never do that.

And he certainly didn't want to be thinking about his mum and Snape when he was kissing Daphne for the first time.

The moment had _well and truly_ passed, if that was where his mind had gone to.

Harry sighed, tightening his hold on her hand; "Alright. So. Body binding."

"Body binding," Daphne had a little smile on her lips, her eyes on the dummy, as she nodded.

Harry resumed the lesson.

No kissing at all happening for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

The aurors didn't come, of course.

Severus supposed they were far more likely to come for him here – at the Foundation – for the house was under the Fidelius.

Severus wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was expecting it; that Dumbledore would, actually, withdraw his side of the deal – his vouching for him – should Severus choose to walk away, to no longer do his bidding. Perhaps they were passed that, by now.

He had defied Dumbledore's orders before.

But, then, when he _had_ defied him – ignored Dumbledore's simple statement that Regulus Black may just have to be left to his own devices – to _die_ – when the trace had been triggered at Easter – and Severus had taken it upon himself to alert the Ministry Aurors, Dumbledore had barely even scolded him for it.

Just a passing statement, now and again, that he did not approve. That consequences would be had.

Dumbledore had expected he would lose a spy.

Instead, it had led to Narcissa's death.

Severus had allowed the sun to rise – Lily to open her eyes – and they shared a kiss before he had left that morning, before Grace could stir.

The forbidden truth still unspoken.

Severus glanced impatiently at the timepiece.

He'd been in his office at the Foundation for hours, now, and still the voices were going strong on the other side of the adjourning door that led into Regulus' office.

Just two people.

Who would never shut up.

Except, of course, for obvious reasons but – mercifully – such obvious reasons had not escalated and Severus was growing agitated with each minute that passed – each minute that the horcrux inside Harry remained – until, finally, well after lunchtime, when it seemed as if Regulus and Julia had simply decided to spend the entirety of the day in one another's company, in his office, Severus gave a brisk knock and pulled the door open, striding into the room.

To Severus' astonishment, Regulus was actually working – parchments of necessary documents needing signing for the Department Heads before him – and Julia was perched on the edge of his desk, reading through a newspaper – Elijah Greengrass' newspaper – the two of them laughing and smiling at one another.

And – thank Merlin – both were fully dressed.

Although Severus was beyond caring about that at this point.

Regulus and Julia glanced in his direction, casually, not seeming at all bothered by the interruption.

"Afternoon, Professor," Julia gave him a smile.

Severus nodded, saying nothing.

Regulus picked up on his mood, instantly, getting a frown. He cleared his throat, straightening up, and it was when he did that, that Julia picked up on it, as well, and she glanced between them, before folding up the paper she was reading, saying to Regulus.

"I'll see you at home."

Regulus met her eyes – drawn from where they were focused on Severus, with concern – giving her a smile; "Wait up for me."

Julia got a smile at that – an evident promise – and she gave him a kiss, before she headed from the room – giving Severus another smile and a nod as she passed him – and left the two of them alone.

He and Regulus just looked at one another in silence for a moment.

Severus not quite able to get the words out at first.

Regulus entirely aware that something was wrong.

Severus drew in a breath, averting his eyes for a second, before he looked back at him and just said it.

"Harry is a horcrux."

It was the first time he'd said it aloud.

He was _shocked_ that his voice didn't break upon it, that last word.

Not as shocked, however, as Regulus' expression quickly became, as the words sunk in.

His friend's brow furrowed – the remaining joy that had been present in his eyes effectively snuffed out by the simple statement – and his voice was bewildered, a whisper.

"What?"

Severus nodded, and he swallowed – hard – against the sudden rise of a lump in his throat, before he went on – willing himself to keep himself in check – stating again:

"Harry is a horcrux. I need your help to get it out of him."

Regulus – clearly struggling to comprehend the information – slowly leaned back in his chair.


	75. September 1995: Great Expectations

"We need to extract this thing and destroy it," Severus said, as he paced the floor behind where Regulus stood at his desk – books and parchments strewn out before him – growing more and more impatient by the second at their lack of progress.

Following the initial revelation that afternoon – and Regulus' immediate refusal to believe it could possibly be the case – Severus and Regulus had begun and continued to look through all of Regulus' gathered information on horcruxes that they had available to them. Fifteen years worth of research at their fingertips and, yet, still no real answers to their current predicament had been found.

Long into the evening until it was, now, almost midnight.

"The soul fragment –" Regulus said, as Severus continued to pace; "- it needs to be imbedded within a horcrux to be destroyed, it can't be done without a vessel."

"Then we shall provide a vessel."

"We can't."

"Why not?" Severus snapped, stopping in his pace and crossing his arms.

"Because it's not our soul," Regulus explained, glancing over his shoulder at him; "There's a procedure instrumental in readying the desired object to act as host to the fragment. A procedure that can only be enacted by the person from whom the soul originates."

"Well, it needs to come out of him, Regulus!" Severus could feel his resolve wavering, as the hopelessness of the situation became more and more apparent; "What if we were to just _pull it_? Would Harry survive?"

"I don't know," Regulus said, tossing down the parchments he held, as he turned to face him; "But what I _do_ know, is that if we were to attempt to remove it _without_ a vessel ready to contain it within a horcrux and _succeeded_ – it cannot survive without a host – and it would _immediately_ bind to the strongest living being within the room. _You_."

Severus lifted his chin.

Contemplated the words.

"Well. That would be a _solution_ , then, wouldn't it?"

Regulus held his look for a moment – looking duly unimpressed with Severus' suggestion – before he turned his back to him, returning to the parchments he was going through.

Suddenly, things no longer seemed so hopeless.

"I shall remove this fragment," Severus said, as the plan formulated within his mind, stepping in beside Regulus; "It will then bind to me, at which point, you will finally be able to complete your own task of eliminating the last remaining horcruxes and the Dark Lord will be mortal once more. Can it be done?"

"I don't know," Regulus ground out, not meeting Severus' eyes as he carried on looking through the parchments – his movements jerky, now, when he reached into the box – as he went on, shortly; "I've been hunting horcruxes, Severus. I am by no means a _guru_ in the art of splitting souls."

Severus watched as Regulus continued to pull out various parchments of research he'd accumulated throughout the past fifteen years – sketches of the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, a torn textbook page on Inferi, a map of Little Hangleton – not looking at any of them, or at Severus, as he did so.

Severus reached up, stopping his movements with a hand to his wrist.

Regulus hesitated, before meeting his eyes.

Severus drew in a breath, before speaking quietly; "If it were _your_ son. If it were Malachi…"

Regulus swallowed, lowering his eyes. Both knew it were true. Regulus would do it for his son, just as Severus had to for his, now. And the other – no matter how much it pained them to do so – _would_ assist in whatever manner they could. It was a simple, unspoken truth.

If it were possible.

"We –" Regulus began, stopping to clear his throat when it came out unsteady; "- We need time. If both Dumbledore and yourself have managed to figure it out, it won't be long until the Dark Lord does so, as well."

Severus felt his blood run cold at the implications.

"In which case, the _preferred_ scenario –" Severus said; "- would be that the Dark Lord simply leave Harry where he is. Allow the Order to unknowingly protect one of his own horcruxes; guaranteeing his unending survival."

"There's a certain irony in that, that the Dark Lord would appreciate," Regulus conceded, before going on to voice what were exactly Severus' _own_ thoughts on what the _worst_ case scenario would be; " _Or_ , he would decide the Order is far too feeble a force to protect a piece of himself – for he'd surely know Dumbledore would figure it out soon enough – and he'd attempt to retrieve Harry into his own custody."

"To no end; Harry will remain as protected as ever."

"And if the Dark Lord were to reveal the reason he were hunting him?" Regulus pointed out; "Severus, if this gets _out_ at a time when the war is escalating further – and after what happened in Old Whigan's Way yesterday, we know the Dark Lord already has enough dead to build an army of Inferi as it is – then people are going to be coming at Harry from _all_ sides. We'll be running not just from Death Eaters."

Severus nodded, slowly, conceding the fact.

It was flawless.

It would play perfectly into the Dark Lord's hands. A piece of his own soul hidden within the world's prophesised saviour; the people of which would quickly divide when their own loved ones continued to fall casualty to the never-ending war. Turning in against themselves and away from one another, serving only to strengthen the Dark Lord's stronghold.

Regulus rubbed a hand over his face; "You need to maintain your place within his Circle – as high up as you can possibly get – and come up with some… _fabrication_ that will satisfy any curiosity and questions he may have as to why he and Harry share this mind link you've been telling me about."

"Albus threw me off this summer by suggesting it had something to do with the night your brother gave his life to protect him. The loving sacrifice. It is Old Magic the Dark Lord knows very little about. I shall come up with something based upon that, along with the implication that it came from Dumbledore."

"You said Harry is occluding him?"

Severus nodded; "Yes. As best as can be done. But the connection between them appears to supersede the defences occlumency provides."

"It's better than nothing. Better, if the Dark Lord were to be occluding him as well. Their connection, if the two of them resist one another, it may be prevented from growing further."

Severus nodded; "I will see to both counts. And you…"

Regulus nodded, as he gathered up the parchments he had been preparing, rolling up two separate rolls and handing one to Severus.

"Leave it with me."

He rolled up the other, tucking it into his own robes, not meeting Severus' eyes.

"Thank you, Regulus."

When Regulus just nodded, turning back to tidy up his desk, Severus made to leave.

But he hesitated at the door when he remembered it – what Dumbledore has been so insistent on when he had spoken to him the night before – and turned back.

"Regulus."

His friend turned to look at him, at the change in tone.

"When Albus was informing me of this, he told me that it was _essential_ that the Dark Lord kill Harry himself."

Regulus frowned.

Severus raised an eyebrow; "Do you have any idea why that would be the case?"

Regulus shook his head; "No." He indicated some parchments before him; "- I've not long finished locating the information needed to eliminate Nagini. With a simple Killing Curse…anyone can kill a sentient horcrux. That's why the inanimate ones are preferable; they can be protected by means of curses and entrapments."

"Then why would Dumbledore be so adamant it must be the Dark Lord?"

Regulus only held Severus' look, with the same bewilderment at the fact as Severus felt.

When the silence – the bewilderment – stretched, Severus just gave him a nod, acknowledging there were no answers on the matter to be had now, and headed from the office.

* * *

" _Smooth,"_ Malachi laughed, wickedly, as he and Harry made their way down the corridor; "Should I be worried you just couldn't stop thinking about _me_ when you were about to kiss a girl for the first time?"

Harry shoved him, the two of them laughing as they stumbled into the Great Hall, Harry having finished relating to him what had happened with Daphne the day before.

Despite the lack of kissing, it hadn't been a disaster, by any means; in fact, it had been _fantastic!_

Daphne Greengrass fancied him – and he fancied her – and she had, even, agreed to meet him again the following Saturday for another Defence session – or, rather, a _second_ date – and Harry couldn't wait.

"Hey!"

The girl Harry had been thinking about suddenly appeared at their side.

"Hey, Daphne," Malachi greeted her with an easy smile – Harry's was still, somewhat, shy – and they made their way to the benches that had been set up, lining the sides of the Great Hall.

"Any idea what this is all about?" she asked them, as they sat down – Harry between them – and he and Malachi grumbled, no.

No, neither had any idea why all year groups of all the Houses had been summoned to the Great Hall that Sunday afternoon, for an important announcement, and the place was abuzz with a nervous sort of excitement.

Most expected it was some sort of statement about the war.

A huge defeat – or, in some people's eyes, victory – on the outside. Something that might affect the school as a whole – for the students, themselves, many had already been receiving the letters, the summons to the Headmaster's Office, that told them of their losses beyond the safety of Hogwarts – and they hadn't even done a big meeting like this for the Hogwarts Express attack a few weeks before.

"Did you hear about what happened down Old Whigan's Way?" Harry could hear someone – a seventh year Hufflepuff boy – saying to the person he was sitting next to, behind them; "Inferi. You-Know-Who had them attack the village – hundreds of 'em – almost wiped the whole place out."

Harry met Malachi's eyes, with a frown, no idea what Inferi were, but it certainly didn't sound like something he ever wanted to face.

Harry shifted, hearing a crumpling beneath him as he did, and he frowned, looking down when he realised, he was sitting on something. A piece of parchment – poster-sized – stuck out at the side of his thigh and he shifted, to free and pull it out, and when he did, he realised others throughout the Hall where doing the same.

The parchments seemed to have appeared from nowhere – he definitely hadn't seen any on the benches upon their arrival.

Harry glanced down at it – at the words scrawled across the surface – curiously.

_Malachi Black is Max E. MacLean._

There was a stir throughout the Hall.

Harry looked sharply at Malachi, who was frowning, staring at the parchment held in Harry's hands.

Malachi shook his head; "Wha –"

Harry glanced throughout the Hall, at all the faces that were beginning to turn their way, identical parchments held in a huge number of hands, revealing exactly who had written the articles that had sparked the One World Movement – the very movement that was still going strong and had, even, taken grip within the school, itself – and excited chatter quickly began to break out.

Malachi, at Harry's side, was suddenly shaken by the shoulder; "Hey, Black, is this true?"

"Obviously, it's a joke."

"Turncoat, just like his father."

"Good on you, Black!"

"Knew he was a Blood-Traitor."

Malachi sat completely still, eyes on the ground, reddening more and more by the second, and Harry shuffled in a little bit closer – as if that would possibly help him deal with his obvious mortification – and his eyes scanned the Hall.

They found Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy, sitting opposite, was the only person who didn't look at all surprised by what had just been revealed to the entire – the _entire_ – school and caused such a big commotion. And, when Malfoy met his eyes, he gave him a slow smirk.

The person behind this great revelation obvious.

At that moment, Harry suddenly realised it: that when he'd run into him in the other aisle of the library a few days before – too wrapped up in thoughts of Daphne to think twice about it at the time – Malfoy had been _spying_ on them.

Harry looked at Daphne, who had followed his gaze, and she was looking at Malfoy with a frown – looking completely bewildered as to why he would do so, when she realised who was behind this – before she turned her glance Malachi's way, in concern.

Malachi's mortification seemed to be multiplying in direct time with Malfoy's unmistakable satisfaction, and Harry felt his blood boil, his hand going to his wand, gripping it instinctively, as the voices around them carried.

Some were impressed – _"have you read it, it's really good!" –_ some were disbelieving – " _he's a_ fourth _year!" –_ and some were disgusted; mutters of blood traitor and mudpies and muggle-banger, sounding behind them.

Snape strode into the Hall.

Every Slytherin – both for and against this new information - immediately shut up.

Eyes nervously glanced in the direction of the House point Hourglasses behind the door through which he'd entered, which, already this year, had a respectable number of emeralds shining within it. Clearly, none were keen to have it emptied, once more, by their Head of House for their lack of solidarity.

Snape was followed closely by Professor McGonagall, and the two other Heads of Houses.

Professor Dumbledore walked in last.

Snape carried on walking, not stopping until he had made it to the furthest corner of the room, away from where the other professors stood, crossing his arms and lifting his chin, as he eyed the students to his left.

The excitement within the Hall was quickly picked up on by Professor Dumbledore – by all the professors who had entered in fact – when the whispers and chatter continued – for it was only the Slytherins who had immediately fallen silent upon the appearance of their Head of House.

The Headmaster made his way to the nearest bench from where he stood, addressing one of those who held one of the – many – parchments.

"Miss Davis; may I?" his voice was quiet from where Harry was sitting, barely heard over the murmurs and whispers that still carried on.

Tracey Davis handed it over and Dumbledore lifted it, adjusting his spectacles as he read the words before him, before he got one of his serene smiles – seeming entirely aware of what the statement meant – before his eyes lifted and found Malachi at the other side of the Hall.

Malachi didn't look at him.

He didn't look at anyone.

Just continued to stare at the floor – no doubt, wishing it would swallow him whole – and Dumbledore gave a small nod, catching Harry's eyes when he did, and he gave him a smile – which Harry returned – before he turned and walked in Snape's direction.

Snape didn't look at Dumbledore as he approached; instead, he just continued to stare straight ahead though he, undoubtedly, knew the Headmaster was coming; the click of his shoes on the floor unmistakable.

Dumbledore stopped at his side. And it was only when he did that – saying nothing and just standing there – that Snape's eyes slowly met Dumbledore's where he stood beside him.

Harry frowned, watching the odd exchange between them.

No words were spoken. Just a look.

And not a particularly _warm_ one at that.

If anything, it looked like more of a challenge. It was – almost – as if they were in a _fight_ or something. Which was more than a bit weird.

After a moment, Dumbledore just held out the parchment to Snape – who took it – before the Headmaster walked on by – without a word spoken between them – and he turned, clearing his throat, before addressing the room.

* * *

Severus glanced down at the parchment Dumbledore had handed over, not even listening to the announcement he was making to those present in the Great Hall.

_Malachi Black is Max E. MacLean._

It took a moment for Severus to even comprehend the significance of it.

Max E. MacLean.

But then it came back to him.

There had been animated – extremely animated, in fact – conversation about this person – this writer – at Regulus and Julia's wedding.

This new opponent of the Dark Lord who had written a most scathing – a _damning –_ denunciation of the Dark Lord and his followers.

Apparently condemning his methods and his ideality, insisting that all Statute Reformists unite against him. For – rather than assisting in their aspirations for Statute abolishment or reformation – his violent measures and suppression of muggles and muggleborns, instead, only _strengthened_ the arguments for secrecy and segregation.

This Max E. MacLean – Malachi – asserted that peace could never be had in either world, should either of them attempt to subjugate the other. And, without peace, the veil between worlds could never come down. So, to support _The Great Lord Voldemort's_ war, was entirely foolish, misguided and counterproductive.

To say the Dark Lord was livid would be an understatement – the arguments proving rather popular, as it so happened, with many influential Statute Opposers – and to learn that the true identity just so happened to be Malachi Black – the fourteen year old son of his most despised adversary – well.

This wasn't something the Dark Lord was going to be letting slide any time soon.

" – and I hope you shall all take this opportunity – at this Halloween Ball – to allow yourselves to forget, even for a little while, the darkness that we all know lingers beyond these walls –"

Severus' lifted his eyes to the ceiling at Dumbledore's address, as the students began to stir, speaking excitedly at his announcement.

His announcement that a _Dance_ was going to be held this Halloween, following the Feast – the first in years, as far as Severus could recall – as a means of lifting the spirits of the students. Many – if not all – of whom were currently living in fear that – each morning when the Owl Post arrived – they were going to be reading about a loss or a loved one wounded.

" – and with that, I shall hand you over to Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout, who shall be giving all of you a much needed refresher in how to…well…Minerva –"

Minerva stepped forward, addressing the excited students, who were now talking even more animatedly amongst themselves at the news than they had been upon their arrival and Dumbledore stepped away, coming back to stand at Severus' side.

The two of them stood there, silently, for a moment, as Minerva began to explain the steps of the opening dance that was to take place the following month.

"I must admit I was surprised – pleasantly so – to hear of your return to the Castle, Severus," Albus finally said, quietly, at his side; "I was uncertain as to whether or not our conversation meant that you would be vacating the premises entirely."

Severus glanced at him out the corner of his eye; "Should I have, Headmaster?"

"That is up to you, my boy," Albus said, but his tone was warm rather than challenging, which was somewhat unexpected.

But then, Severus _had_ thought that Dumbledore may just try and convince him. Attempt to win him round to his case and get him back on board – his position in the Circle was enviable, after all – and so he simply said.

"No, Headmaster. You know very well I cannot leave."

It was not Dumbledore that was holding him here.

It was Harry.

Both their eyes went to him – to his boy – where he was sitting on the benches alongside Malachi Black and Daphne Greengrass.

And while Severus had wondered – even considered – whether or not he ought to come back to the Castle – if Dumbledore should have considered that conversation as an immediate tendering of his resignation and called his bluff – he knew – realised – in light of his conversation with Regulus that to do so would be foolish.

Incredibly so.

His currently position _was_ enviable. Crucial, in fact.

And Harry was at Hogwarts.

With Dumbledore, no less. One of the very few who knew this dreadful secret. One who had actually _accepted_ that – in order to end this war – Harry would have to walk to his death.

That would not do.

And Severus needed to maintain his position within the Circle – he needed the Dark Lord to heed and swallow everything he told him, whether truth or fabrication – and his value within that Circle depended almost entirely upon his placement within the school where two of the three of the Dark Lord's most significant adversaries dwelled.

It was simple.

Harry needed Severus to be at Hogwarts, by Dumbledore's side, ensuring his child was _not_ being groomed to willingly walk to his death by the Headmaster, while at the same time feeding nonsense to the Dark Lord – under the guise it was coming from Dumbledore, himself – in order to keep Harry protected until he and Regulus found a way to get this horcrux out of him.

And, so, Severus returned.

"Now, everyone –" Minerva was saying, bringing Severus from his thoughts; " – find yourselves a partner. And do be quick about it, all of you, this is not a marriage proposal, merely a dance lesson."

Severus watched with – admitted – surprise when Harry immediately turned to the girl at his side, a _Slytherin_ – Daphne Greengrass – and quickly secured her hand for the lesson.

Coy smiles were exchanged between them – with obvious familiarity and affection – as she nodded, taking his hand and getting to her feet, and Harry tugged her to the middle of the room.

One of the first couples to take their place.

Severus was not the only one surprised; whispers quickly breaking out at the partnership.

A Slytherin and a Gryffindor.

Well.

That was familiar.

Severus felt his lips twitch, almost in a smile.

Before Severus' eyes could linger much longer on the two of them – who appeared entirely too wrapped up in one another, to recognise the stir they had caused amongst their schoolmates – his gaze was drawn to Malachi. The young Mr. Black who was, suddenly, surrounded by a _flock_ of young ladies, from various different Houses, all seeming keen to be chosen by him as his dancing partner.

"Hmm," Dumbledore spoke up, and Severus glanced at him out the corner of his eye, noticing the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes as he – too – noticed Malachi's sudden appeal in light of this new information as to the identity of the One World instigator; "It seems the young Mr. Black's talents for the written word are having an effect."

Malachi emerged from the group of girls, blushing furiously, and headed down the row of the benches he'd just vacated.

Severus wondered if Malachi was going to simply leave the room – if he was going to have to follow and retrieve him to take part in this compulsory, ridiculous, assembly - but his Godson stopped before a girl who was sitting reading a tabloid – the Quibbler – which was, incidentally, upside down.

Luna Lovegood, Severus realised, when she lowered it and met Malachi's eyes.

And, after a moment, she put the newspaper aside and got to her feet, following Malachi over to where Harry stood with Daphne and the two took their place for the lesson.

* * *

"Obviously, dancing isn't one of your strengths," Malachi heard Daphne saying to Harry, teasingly; "I'd of thought your defence classes might have made you a bit lighter on your feet."

"Can't say I've had much opportunities for dancing," Harry said, grinning like an idiot; "Guess you'll just have to teach me. Call it a trade-off."

"What, a dance, a spell?"

Malachi rolled his eyes at the flirty exchange, drawing Luna a little bit closer when he realised how far apart they were standing.

"Is it true what those posters say?" Luna asked him, as they awkwardly attempted to follow the steps of the dance; "That it was you who wrote the One World articles?"

"Um…yeah."

Malachi just admitted it, figuring there was no point in denying it now.

"You've hidden that rather well, you know. How much you care about muggles. Everyone was quite surprised, I noticed."

"I…well…" Malachi shrugged. He found it a lot harder talking about it, than writing. Writing came so easily.

But talking about muggles, the things he'd written about them, and dancing with Luna was making him think about Emma. And it still made his heart sink, a little, whenever she came to mind.

He stumbled, missing a step, and quickly apologised when he accidentally trod on one of Luna's feet.

"I've read them. The articles you wrote," Luna told him, as he spun her under his arm – pretty badly and twisted both their wrists as he did – before she went on; "You made some very good points. Dad was quite impressed, actually. He said we could do with more writers like you in the world."

"Oh," Malachi didn't really know what to say; "Um…thanks."

The two of them carried on, following the steps, not saying much for another few minutes, the flirting between Harry and Daphne at their side still going on.

"I think there's a Hogsmeade visit coming up," Harry was saying, not at all as casually as he was obviously going for.

"Yeah, there always is, this time of year," Daphne said, and Malachi noticed she was fighting a smile, not making it easy for him.

"Well, are you…" Harry cleared his throat; "…has someone asked you to go?"

"I'm expecting someone to. But he tends to beat around the bush a bit," Daphne said, innocently; "I kind of expect he'll wait until next year, at this rate."

"Oh. Well. Is he…do you want this guy to ask you?"

" _Yes,"_ Daphne said, before rolling her eyes.

Harry looked a little confused and Malachi could have facepalmed at his obliviousness, if he didn't have his arms around Luna, but before anything further could be said, Luna piped up.

"I think Daphne is trying to tell you that she wants _you_ to ask her, Harry," she said it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world – which it was – and Daphne glanced away, getting a smile; "I mean, _I've_ never had a boy ask me to go to Hogsmeade before. But I do think in this case it is rather obvious what you're both trying to say."

Malachi snickered.

Harry blushed, looking first at Luna and then at Daphne, who gave him a smile – basically confirming what the first had said – and then Harry smiled, through his blush, _finally_ getting it.

"Well. Great! I mean. Yes. Let's go together."

The next steps of the dance took Malachi and Luna further away from them and, when it did, Luna went back to what they'd been talking about before.

"I'd never really thought much about it before, really. The Statute of Secrecy and how removing it might actually help with muggle relations," Luna said, thinkingly; "I always thought the abolishment of it was more in line with the people who follow You-Know-Who."

Malachi shrugged; "A lot of people think that. I don't follow him."

"I know," Luna smiled, nodding; "Well. You made people think. There's a movement, now, of all the people you inspired to do so."

Malachi didn't point out that he also made people get kidnapped and be held to ransom for his silence, but he _thought_ it. And he felt more than a little bit uncomfortable, talking about this with Daphne so close, even though Daphne _had_ been entirely supportive of him continuing with what he was saying through the movement's Club that had been set up here at Hogwarts.

"I heard you've had to stop writing for the newspaper you were featuring in, before. If you wanted to; Dad, he'd print you," Luna went on; "If you were to write anything else. You might not have heard of it, but he's the editor of the Quibbler."

Malachi met Luna's eyes, for the first time since he'd asked her to dance.

That she'd end up like Astoria – taken and Merlin-knows what else – as retribution for what he'd written sickened him and he shook his head.

"No."

"Oh. Well. It's not that I was asking just to promote Dad's publication – I just thought –"

"No, it's not that," Malachi shook his head as he interrupted her, before spinning her under his arm again as the dance demanded, and when she was back in his arms he told her; "I don't want people getting hurt because of what I believe in."

Luna met his eyes once more. And then she smiled; "That's why you're different, Malachi."

Malachi held her look for a second, before lowering his eyes. And then he spun her once more, the rest of the lesson passing, mostly, without conversation – other than the overhead poor attempts at flirting between Harry and Daphne a few feet away.

A little while later – once the assembly was over and Daphne and Luna had already left – Malachi snickered as he and Harry prepared to leave; "I bet you a _million_ galleons that Daphne kisses you first."

Harry rolled his eyes, grinning; "Is that your way of saying you'll pay me to just get on with it?"

"Doubt even _that_ would get you moving."

Before they could make their way from the room, Severus stepped in front of them.

"Oh. Hello, Professor," Malachi greeted him, reluctantly, noticing the parchment he held.

"Mr. Black; wait a moment, if you will," Severus said to him, before he turned his eyes upon Harry; "Mr. Potter. I trust I will see you at our agreed time – 7pm – for your detention tonight."

"My – wait – _what?"_ Harry looked outraged; "Detention for _what?"_

Severus simply stared back at him.

Harry quickly got a look of understanding.

"Oh. Detention. Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Sorry, Sir."

"I am glad the recollection has come back to you," Severus said, before swiftly turning back to Malachi; "Mr. Black, my office."

Malachi gave a reluctant nod – knowing this was obviously about his extra-curricular writing activities – and followed Severus from the Hall.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon eagerly anticipating the impromptu seven o' clock 'detention' Snape had issued him with.

He knew – of course – that something was up. And the fact that Snape hadn't seem at all unimpressed or cross with him when he'd approached was reassuring enough that Harry was _more_ than keen to go to Snape's office that evening and find out the real reason for his summons.

Harry bounded down the last few steps into the dungeons.

He stopped just short from bursting into Snape's office, however – the way he had some days before – with his hand on the doorknob, and he gave a quick knock.

"Enter."

Harry opened the door and, upon seeing that Snape was alone at his desk, closed it behind him and hurried in.

"Hey!" he went up to the desk, giving him a smile; "What's up?"

Snape looked at him from where he sat behind the desk. Just looked at him. Saying nothing. And Harry could tell he'd been sitting there – waiting for him – for a while, even though he was the one who'd stipulated seven o' clock.

But that wasn't the only thing that was weird.

Snape's _gaze_ was different, somehow – warmer, Harry realised, than it had been in the past – and Harry raised his eyebrows, expectantly, feeling oddly comforted by the look in his eyes.

"You – uh – you wanted to see me?"

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry did as he was told.

Snape cleared his throat, gathering up some parchments that were before him, and then handed them over to Harry where he sat.

"In light of your recent improvements in occlumency, I believe now may be the opportune time for you and I to embark on a more…ambitious training schedule."

"Um…training schedule?" Harry frowned, eyes lowering as he fingered, hesitantly, through the parchments Snape had given him; "I didn't realise I was being… _trained_ , Sir."

Snape drew in a breath, glancing away.

And then he looked back at him, his voice softer when he spoke again.

"Harry."

Harry met his eyes, sharply, at the use of his name.

"You are aware of what is ahead," Snape said, almost regretfully, speaking far more _frankly_ than Harry was used to; "You have been privy to the contents of the prophecy. You have seen first-hand what the Dark Lord is capable of. And you _know_ that we are at war. You need to be prepared for what is to come."

Harry didn't know what to say. If Snape was expecting him to say anything at all. The man's behaviour behaviour – his words – even his _voice_ were so different to what Harry was accustomed to.

Snape indicated the parchments.

"It is my intention to do everything that I possibly can to ensure that you are. Should you be willing."

Harry was so confused he could barely even muster up a sentence. It was almost like Snape was _asking_ him – Harry – to be allowed to teach him – to _mentor_ him, or something – which made so little sense.

Usually, Snape would just give Harry orders and – whether he liked it or not – he would just have to follow them.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the middle of the parchments, the title at the top of the page; "Legillimency."

He frowned, lifting his eyes to meet Snape's; "You want to teach me how to become a Legillimens?"

"In order for you to be ready, it is not going to be enough for you to simply know basic defence," Snape explained, before going on more assertively; "You are going to have to be able to _duel_. And the best duellists are those who are able to anticipate and read their opponent's next moves and intentions; legillimency will give you the edge that you'll need."

"Kinda sounds like cheating."

"I call it using your skills to your advantage. Particularly considering that many of those whom you will be facing may have had many years of experience under their own belts," Snape said, dismissing the charge; "And it would do you good, to be able to read the intentions of those whom you may come across in the future. In order to discern their sincerity when dealing with you."

"Um…why…wait, you think people are going to be…trying to trick me or something? There's going to be people coming after me?"

"I thought we had already established that a number already are."

"Oh. Well, right," Harry nodded; "Yeah. I guess."

He fingered through the parchments, the others that Snape had handed over, at the various different branches of magic Snape was proposing he teach him. There was more defence, the Dark Arts, legillimency, advanced potions…

There was so much that Harry didn't even know how he'd ever be able to learn all of it. Snape – although Harry supposed he might have just been acting at the time – had never been all that _complimentary_ towards his schoolwork, after all, in the past. And all of that was so _elementary_ in comparison to the things Snape wanted to show him, now.

"I am aware that this may all seem somewhat overwhelming," Snape said, as if reading his thoughts; "Let me assure you, that everything that I wish to teach you is entirely within your capabilities."

Harry met his eyes.

Snape lifted his chin; "But only if you are entirely committed and willing. Do not agree to this out of an obligation to _me_ , Harry. But know, that if you want my assistance, you shall have it. And this – " he indicated the parchments; " – is the very best that I can teach you."

Harry found himself nodding before he could help himself.

"Anything you want to show me, Sir. Yeah. I'll do it."

Snape smiled – actually _smiled_ at him – though extremely briefly, and then he reached for the parchments.

Harry handed them over.

Snape lifted a quill and marked down on the parchment Harry had first mentioned, before reaching for a thin book; "Have this read by Wednesday morning – we'll begin with legillimency. Seven am."

Snape rolled up the parchments, before pushing the roll and the book on Legillimency in his direction.

"I ought to advise you, that it is strictly forbidden for underage wizards to be educated in this field –"

Harry met his eyes sharply at that.

" – and so I must ask that you treat this assigned task with due…discretion."

Harry held his look. And then he got a slow smile, glancing down at the book on legillimency, before he nodded. Suddenly feeling delighted at this shared secret between them. This forbidden knowledge that Snape was willing to share with him.

Harry lifted the items from the desk, giving Snape a nod – not, really, knowing _why_ he felt so good about this – and he smiled; "Guess I better get reading then. I can keep a secret, Sir. I promise."

Snape inclined his chin in Harry's direction – a dismissal – and, even though he wasn't smiling, now, his look was still warm. Still way, way more than he'd ever given Harry before.

Harry smiled to himself.

An odd sense of … _belonging_ … coming over him, as he made his way from the office, eager to get started on his newly assigned task.

* * *

Severus clutched the rolled up, _extremely_ hard-to-find copy of Elijah Greengrass' newspaper that he had finally managed to procure that afternoon – the day following the revelation to all at Hogwarts that _Malachi_ was the true writer of the One World articles – and made his way into his office at the Foundation.

Malachi had, _as always_ , refused to discuss any such subject that might bring about a revelation of his inner turmoil – far too much like his father in cases such as these – and had merely insisted there was no issue whatsoever and that Severus' intervention was neither needed, nor, indeed, appreciated.

Well.

Severus walked straight through his own office, pulled open the adjourning door, and headed swiftly into Regulus'.

Regulus' eyes lifted from the parchments he was studying, where he was sat behind his desk.

He raised an eyebrow; "You're going to have to give me a bit a longer than that, Severus."

Severus approached – quicky noticing the boxes of gathered horcrux information still open on the floor, and the various withered books and parchments of information on horcruxes, mind connections and soul bonds that scattered the surface of Regulus' desk – and took the seat opposite.

"This isn't about Harry."

He tossed the newspaper onto the desk.

Regulus lifted it, eyes going to the headline.

"Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits –" Regulus met Severus' eyes with a frown; "The One World Movement?"

"Indeed. Have you read the articles?"

"No," Regulus put down the quill he'd been making notes with; "I had a chance to skim the first –"

"Read the quillname."

Regulus frowned, eyes going back to the paper in his hands.

"Max E…MacLean…" Regulus paused – obviously realising right away, for Severus knew that Regulus never forgot them; the names of those he considered lost for him – and then he said, more quietly; "Emma MacLean."

"I missed it. The link," Severus said, before going on; "Not the case, I'm afraid, for a certain someone at Hogwarts."

Regulus met his eyes and Severus nodded: confirming the worst.

"Draco. Somehow, he learned the truth and saw fit to reveal it. It is now all over Hogwarts."

Regulus rubbed his forehead with his fingers, as he considered the implications.

Severus went on; "We can expect that the Dark Lord shall hear of it – if Draco has not already informed him – imminently. Within the day."

"Hm," Regulus dropped his hand, raising his eyebrows; "And the Dark Lord – the _greatest_ wizard of our time – is so threatened by the opinion of my fourteen-year-old son, is he?"

Severus' lips twitched; "Apparently so."

Regulus rolled his eyes, lifting the newspaper from the desk, and cleared his throat before he began to read it, aloud.

The offending article.

"The greatest threat of our generation to the necessary Statute of Secrecy reformation…" he hesitated; "…is the _Great_ …"

Regulus trailed off, eyes narrowing as he did.

He carried on reading the rest of it in silence, as Severus went on.

"Indeed, the Dark Lord is, in fact, so threatened by your son's rhetoric, that he has made it an assignment of the highest priority to a number of Death Eaters: that each and every copy of the newspaper you are holding – along with the others that contained the prior, less-offensive two articles – be gathered and destroyed immediately to prevent your son's words spreading any further."

Severus rolled his eyes, before indicating with a nod at the newspaper Regulus was holding.

"Attempting to track down t _hat_ copy was akin to trying to procure Dragon's Blood during their heat season."

Regulus – still reading – was slowly developing a smile.

"Is that right?"

Severus got a frown, as he noticed the smile forming.

Regulus cleared his throat, as he finished reading the article, putting it back on the desk as he leaned back in his chair.

Severus waited – just waited – for the expected frantic outburst. Those very same moments of panic and inhibitions Regulus always displayed in the past, whenever his son dared to brush far too near to the war, to the politics of the Statute or the Dark Lord.

It was an outburst that did not come.

A smile still played on Regulus' lips, as he touched the pad of his thumb to them, seeming to be thinking on the words written before him.

Regulus met his eyes, looking at Severus for a second, before he got that cheeky little grin of his and leaned forward in his chair, eyes going back to the article.

" _Merlin forbid_ something like this were to actually be _read_ by the Statute Opposers whom he has managed to lure into supporting him."

Severus eyed him. He knew well enough from that look – that _twinkle_ – that something was afoot.

Regulus lifted his wand, flicked it, and the article was neatly cut and extracted from the newspaper.

Regulus got to his feet and plucked it from where it was suspended in the air, before stepping around the desk and heading for the door.

"What are you doing?"

Severus got to his feet and followed.

The two of them made a brisk walk from the room, onwards down the office corridors, Regulus not stopping in his stride until the two of them reached the entrance lobby.

The area was bustling with people coming and going, as busy as it ever was – the protective enchantments and security so effective that it was one of the very few places in the Wizarding World still so populated and considered safe, untouched, by the war beyond the walls – and Regulus headed up to the main wall that any and all going in and out of the Foundation would pass upon entering the building.

Regulus stopped before it and glanced at the leaflet stands that lined it.

Currently, almost all of them were filled with pamphlets and fliers of Ministry information; instructions on how to keep safe and how to conduct oneself during these times of open warfare. The only one not, a row of pamphlets containing the basic information that had always been available; An Introduction to the Foundation booklet.

With a flick of his wand, Regulus emptied two of the rows.

Then, with a quick – " _duplici exemplari" –_ the two of them quickly filled back up, from bottom to top, in an upwards cascade, until they were _bursting_ with copies of the article Malachi had written – the one still held in Regulus' hand – for any and all to take.

Regulus turned his wand upon the one he still held - _"Engorgio" –_ enlarging it beyond the size of Ministry Undesirable Notice Poster, and flicked his wand again, encasing it in glass, before mounting it onto the wall.

The title was bold – _ginormous_ – the first thing anyone coming into the Foundation would see.

 _Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of the_ Great _Lord Voldemort._

Both Severus and Regulus stepped back.

Eyed the newly mounted article – the _statement_ – with admiration and trepidation, respectively.

"And I thought you were unhinged before," Severus finally said.

Regulus smirked.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance."

Regulus turned to Severus then with a determination – a fire in his eyes – that Severus was more than a little surprised to see.

No longer so frightened. No longer so cowed by the threat he had lived under all these years.

"My family will no longer be silenced and bend to the wills of a madman."

Regulus' eyes drifted. To the wall at the opposite side of the lobby where the pictures were mounted. Those of the staff vital in the successful running of the organisation.

Andromeda Tonks' moving picture was still upon it.

And Narcissa's.

Regulus looked back up at the article.

Drew in a breath.

"And this Foundation _stands_ against the wills and the monstrosities of the _madman_ who calls himself _Lord Voldemort_."

Severus' eyebrows lifted. Unable to contain his own astonishment at Regulus' first use of the name.

Severus was not the only one surprised.

Eyes were turning upon them now, as people passed by, all hearing the name spat forth from the Founder's lips and taking in the newly mounted notice on the wall.

There were nods and smiles and looks of approval, Severus noticed, before his eyes turned back to Regulus, who was still admiring the work of his son.

His pride in what Malachi had written clear as day.

Severus' lips twitched, almost in a smile. A strange sense of pride of his _own_ , coming over him, as he eyed Regulus where he stood.

Julia's chin suddenly rested on Regulus' shoulder from behind him, her eyes upon the article Regulus was still looking at.

"Redecorating?"

Regulus immediately got a smile, recognising the voice, and he and Severus turned to greet her, both quickly noticing that Lily was at her side.

Regulus beamed at them.

" _Well_ , if it isn't the two most enchanting belles of the Foundation!"

Julia and Lily laughed, sharing a look, as Regulus drew his wife to his side with an arm wrapped around her waist before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"What brings you here?"

"Lunch; bistro," Julia told him, before adding with a little grin and a wink at Severus; "Lily's a fan."

Lily met Severus' eyes at that, getting a small smile, at the nod to the stories she'd obviously told her friend about their lunch dates – from times long passed, now – and Severus was very careful not to smile back.

They were out here, publicly, in the open, after all – the four of them – and people were beginning to crowd them in their attempts to have a look at the newly mounted article on the wall.

"Well, I shall give your compliments to the house elves," Regulus told her, grinning.

"You're causing a bit of a stir out here, Regulus," Lily said, noticing the crowd that were brushing against them; people snatching up copies of the article Regulus had duplicated.

Before Regulus could answer – explain what it was all about – one of the runners appeared.

"Hey, Boss."

Regulus lifted his chin in acknowledgment that he go on.

"There's a Miss Maeson here to see you."

"Ah," Regulus nodded, quickly straightening up, and he pressed his lips back to Julia's cheek; "Excuse me, all."

Regulus headed back in the direction of his office.

"What was that about?" Lily asked, when Regulus had gone, turning her eyes upon Severus.

Severus nodded at the mounted article; "It seems as if Regulus has decided a more _aggressive_ opposing stance to the war is to be had by the Foundation, going forward."

"Max E. MacLean," Julia read the name credited, getting a frown, as if it were familiar to her, as well.

"Otherwise known as your stepson, Mrs. Black," Severus told her, sparing her the need to figure it out.

Julia looked at him, sharply, before sharing a look with Lily, and the two of them stepped in closer to read what Malachi had written.

Within a few seconds, they could barely be seen by Severus who had stepped back as others joined them; a full crowd now gathering around the mounted article, while others passing by continued to snatch up copies of it from the holders to read as they moved.

The damning statement of one Malachi Black against the Great Lord Voldemort – endorsed by the Aurelius Foundation – out there, once more, for the entire Wizarding World to see.

Should anyone have happened to have missed it.

* * *

"Miss Maeson," Regulus greeted Ana with a smile, as he reached where she sat in the chair outside his office; "I was beginning to wonder if the challenge was just too much for you."

He flicked his wand, unlocking the enchantments on the door, and headed into his office.

Ana followed while he quickly cast a glamour upon the items on his desk, concealing his new direction of studies – soul bonds and splitting – before he indicated she take a seat.

"I won't lie, Regulus, you almost had me," Ana said, not bothering to sit, as Regulus went around the other side of his desk; "Nice ring. How is the new Mrs. Black, by the way?"

Her eyes were on the moving picture now placed upon his desk; the wedding day shot of himself, Julia and Malachi, laughing and swaying with their arms around one another, the Foundation standing tall in the background; "Looks like my sources weren't wrong."

"My wife is very well, thank you," Regulus said, getting a smile at the mention, wondering if he'd ever _not_ feel giddy at referring to Julia as such; "I _did_ say you were the best."

"And, as such, I was determined I wouldn't disappoint you –" Ana reached into her robes before pulling out an envelope, handing it over.

Regulus took it.

"Careful, Regulus, that could've been poisoned."

"Oh, I trust _you,_ Ana," Regulus eyed her, getting another smile, before he split the top of the envelope, opening it neatly, and pulled out the parchment inside.

The results of the assignment he had requested of her in the Spring.

Regulus read it – eyes lingering upon the address written – before he spoke; "California. Well _that_ is right up Eugene's street."

He met her eyes; "You're certain it's him?"

"Well, I never approached. But –" she indicated with a nod of her head.

Regulus reached into the envelope and pulled out what remained inside – two moving pictures – and, yes, there he was.

Eugene Hopkins.

Older. A little more frail.

But he was smiling and laughing and chattering away – he boisterous old self that Regulus remembered, the warm, friendly older man who had mentored him fresh out of the war, guilt-ridden and traumatised – and Regulus drew in a breath, meeting Ana's eyes.

He gave a nod and tucked the items back into the envelope she had given him, tossing it onto his desk, and then he leaned down, unlocking and pulling open the bottom drawer, before pulling out his lock box.

Regulus flicked it open with the pad of his thumb, pulled out two pouches of galleons, and handed them over.

Ana took them, giving him a wink - "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Black." – before she turned and headed from the room, their business done.

Regulus lifted the envelope she had given him once she'd left, index finger flicking the edges of the parchments gathered inside.

And then he drew in a breath, dropping them into the lock box he'd pulled out, before closing and securing it once more, placing it into the bottom drawer of his desk.

Regulus took a seat, pushing it shut with his foot, and lifted the glamour he had cast upon their arrival at the office; carried on with what he had been doing before Severus had interrupted him.

Trying to figure out how – on this Earth – the two of them could possibly get this soul fragment of the Dark Lord – _Voldemort_ – out of Harry.

* * *

Lily knocked at the door to Severus' office, a roll of parchments – an alibi, if you will – clutched in her hand and – upon hearing the customary ' _enter'_ call out – she pushed open the door, heading inside.

Severus lifted his chin – the only indication of his surprise – when he saw her, and she pushed the door closed and made her way up to where he stood at his desk.

"Dare I ask, what has Healer Heart sent you with today?" Severus said as he turned to her, his lips twitching when he quickly picked up on her ploy, noticing the parchments held in her hand.

Lily raised her eyebrows, giving him a smile.

"Something of _vital_ importance, Professor Snape."

Severus took them from her, not bothering to even open them, and placed them on his desk; "Is something wrong?"

"You tell me," Lily said, tilting her head – still concerned, after what had happened the other night – and when Severus realized what she was referring to, he averted his eyes, giving a nod.

"I felt the need of your company that night. I hope you weren't…alarmed –"

"You're always welcome in your own bed, Severus," Lily told him, smiling warmly, before she stepped in closer and took his hands.

Severus squeezed hers with his own, his eyes upon them, before he lifted them to meet hers.

He looked at her. It was almost searching – a considering look – as if he were weighing up telling her something. And when she lifted her chin, noticing it, he gave the slightest nod, eyes averting.

Severus squeezed her hands again, before letting go and a hand rubbed her arm; "I did have need to speak to you. About Harry."

Lily straightened up, immediately concerned; "Harry? Is he alright?"

Severus hesitated, meeting her eyes in the face of her worry.

"Yes –" he cleared his throat; "For now. But…his connection with the Dark Lord concerns me. Occlumency is not proving to be enough to protect him from the connection the two of them have forged between their minds."

Lily felt uneasy – easily picking up on Severus' own unease as he told her – before she asked; "What can we do?"

"I had hoped to train him in legillimency. While occlumency, on Harry's side, is not appearing to be sufficient in closing the link and preventing it from growing stronger, I suspect if the Dark Lord were to also be resisting the connection, it may prevent it from worsening."

Lily frowned, as she processed the words.

"You...wait. You want Harry to try to… _tap into_ this connection?"

"Not necessarily. If the Dark Lord should become aware that Harry _could,_ that may just be enough to force him back. The last thing he would want is for Harry to be able to access highly sensitive information, simply by slipping into his mind at will."

"So, you want to teach him legillimency – but he's only fifteen. Isn't that –"

"Illegal," Severus' lips twitched; "Yes. Which is why I thought I'd best discuss it with you, before we resume."

"Resume, huh?" Lily got a smile, then; "Should I _assume_ you've already mentioned it to him?"

"I may have acted rashly, I admit," Severus conceded, before he reached up, cupping her cheek; "If you object…"

"No. I know you're doing it to protect him," Lily said, knowing that was the case with certainty – even if she was getting the impression there was something else going on – and she nodded; "If you think it's needed."

"Well, there's another matter other than just your willingness to be complicit in our felony," Severus went on, making Lily chuckle at his choice of words; "In order for Harry to become accomplished in this, it is going to be necessary for him to engage and attempt to utilize this skill. On me."

Lily realized, then, what the issue was.

"You're worried about what he might see."

"I thought _you_ might be," Severus said, leaning back against his desk, and crossing his arms; "Much of what he will be privy to concerns not only myself; and those things that _do_ relate only to my experiences are not particularly pleasant. I will have to occlude him, of course, but the memories which I must conceal…I intend to do so, on matters of a more _confidential_ nature, rather than just those that would make us uncomfortable. If I were to occlude _everything_ , the exercise would be pointless."

"Severus –" Lily glanced away, surprised and unsure if she even had this right; "You're going to be letting someone – you are going to be allowing _Harry_ to look inside your head. Without occluding."

"I will be occluding, as I said. But I cannot occlude everything, or he will never progress."

"It's obviously important then, the reason you want him to learn this."

"Yes," Severus said; "He is going to need it. As the war goes on, we can't expect that all whom Harry encounters are going to have the best of intentions. And Harry is far too trusting, as it is."

Lily held his look, getting a smile; touched that he would do this. That he would be willing to give so much of himself to Harry, in his efforts to shield him from what he would soon have to face.

She nodded; "If you're willing, Severus. Thank you."

Severus lowered his eyes, before drawing in a breath, and then he drew her close – pulled her into his arms – and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Don't thank me yet, Lily," he said, the words almost whispered.

Lily frowned – sensing his regret – but he held her, not seeming inclined to let her go – and she realized he still needed it, the comfort, so she stayed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and his shoulder.

Lily stayed there, in his arms, as long as time would allow. Which wasn't enough, she knew. She could see it, in his eyes – a lingering look of unease and regret – when she drew back and Lily wondered if she should press it.

But she knew better, by now. The life that they led – it demanded secrecy, by nature – and so, she gave him a smile instead, and touched her lips to his.

"I have to head back. I'll see you soon?"

His thumb brushed her chin.

"As soon as we are able."

Lily grinned, touching her forehead to his; "Take care of my son."

Severus met her eyes, giving a nod and a small smile.

"I intend to."

The was far more emphatic promise behind the statement than Lily expected. And she looked at him, searchingly for a moment, but when he just met the look – entirely sincere in his assertion – Lily smiled, and he returned it, before she gave him another kiss and turned, heading from the room.

* * *

Harry glanced at the timepiece as he stepped off the last of the stairs down into the dungeons – early, much as he'd tried to make the walk from the dorms a slow, casual stroll – and headed to Snape's office.

It was ten minutes until their agreed time.

Harry's hand immediately went to the knob of the door, in his eagerness. Before he remembered – just in time - and let it go, giving a knock.

He received only silence – aside from the chirps of the morning birds in the windows – in response.

Harry eyed the corridor, knowing he couldn't just _stay_ out here, lingering. Someone might see him. He tried the door, finding it locked.

He wondered if Snape would be cross that he'd turned up so early.

"Mr. Potter."

He jumped at the sound of Snape's voice behind him, meeting the man's eyes when he stepped in beside him.

"Eager to begin –" Snape said, flicking his wand to undo the enchantments that secured the door; " – I am glad to see it." He pushed open the door and indicated with a nod that Harry head inside.

Harry hurried in and waited in the middle of the room, as Snape swept passed him; "How did you find the reading material?"

"Good. Really interesting," Harry said, with a nod.

Snape eyed him, looking amused at Harry's compliance; "No questions? No matters of discussion you wished to bring up?"

"Uh…" Harry hesitated.

He'd devoured the book in a rush, staying up all night on the Sunday – something he'd regretted, enormously, the next day in classes and at the Duel Club – to make sure he'd had it read, done and dusted, for this lesson he'd been anticipating.

"No. I don't think so. Should…should I have been making notes?"

"If you are confident you are aware of purpose of legillimency and the various ways in which it can be utilized, that is all that we will need to proceed."

"Right," Harry nodded, more confident now; "Yeah. I am. It's used to…move through the _layers_ of a person's mind –" he tried his best to make it sound as eloquent as possible, without simply giving a recitation of what he'd read – he knew Snape didn't like that – and went on; " – in order be able to read and… _decipher_ their motivations and their intentions. About…stuff."

Snape lips twitched – the way they did when he was fighting a smile – and he nodded; "Very good."

"And I can use it – well…people can use it. If they're good enough. To…confuse people. Muddle them all up."

"That sounds more like you, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his look warming, almost _affectionate_ now, the way it had the last day they'd seen one another; "Do not feel as if you need to _impress_ me throughout these sessions; you are not being graded. If there are matters that cause confusion, stop me and _ask_. If there is something you wish to delve into further, we will. This is purely for your benefit, Harry. Not mine."

Harry tried to ignore the little flutter of warmth he felt when Snape referred to him, properly, by his name.

Snape touched his wand and, when he did, two chairs suddenly slid with a screech across the stone floor and stopped at his side.

Snape turned them so that they were facing one another and, with his hand still upon the back of one, indicated with his chin at Harry; "Sit."

Harry did so.

Snape took the seat opposite.

They were close – so _close –_ that their knees were almost touching.

Harry lowered his eyes, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

"Eye contact is essential, let that be your first tip, Mr. Potter," Snape said, and Harry lifted his eyes to meet his – green meeting black – and Snape raised an eyebrow; "Try it."

"Try – _it_?"

"You are surely aware of the incantation by now, you have had more than enough opportunities to experience it on the receiving end, these past eighteen months."

Harry – although it was obvious – was very, _very_ unsure about what he was supposed to be doing here.

"Um…you want me to do it … on _you?"_

"Yes. I need to gauge your current abilities – where to focus our efforts – so that you may learn the basics of how to perform this spell. Needless to say, it will not _help_ matters –" Snape went on; " – if you panic, in the way that you are currently doing."

"I…I'm not panicking," Harry said, even though he suddenly felt extremely nervous; "Just…I don't know. Is it okay for me to even _look?_ What if _he_ sees what I'm looking at? What if…what if I see…" Harry hesitated, glancing away; "Grace."

He'd never seen Snape and Grace together, before.

Not properly.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to. Well. The past stuff. The future stuff, he was a bit more open about.

Snape cleared his throat, drawing Harry's attention back to him, and the man raised an eyebrow at him.

"While it is certainly _encouraging_ that you have far more faith in your ability to carry out this undertaking than you did when we first began your training in occlumency –"

Harry rolled his eyes.

" – let us not get ahead of ourselves," Snape's lips twitched, in that almost-smile of his; "Let us first see, whether or not you are even capable of casting the spell, shall we?"

Harry met his eyes and Snape still look amused and _warm_ and this was just – not what Harry expected from Snape, at all. Nope.

Usually _he_ was the one who was amused and affectionate, while Snape would just stand, stoically, entirely unmoved. Which, in itself, made Harry even more amused. Or, in some cases – granted – _much_ more frustrated.

Harry drew in a breath, raising an eyebrow, and shooting him a look – a challenge – of his own, before he lifted his wand – pointed it at Snape's chest; "Legillimens."

Obviously, nothing happened.

His wand simply a dead stick in his hands, mocking his attempts.

"Try to mean it, Harry," Snape said, softly.

Harry met his eyes, drawing in a breath, before he closed them – did his best to do what Snape said, to _mean_ it and _want_ to look – and then he opened his eyes, and tried again; "Legillimens."

He felt a tiny flicker then, of will behind the attempt, but he got nothing.

"It won't work if you're occluding me," Harry pointed out, lifting his chin.

"Excellent point. I am not occluding you, Harry."

"Guess I'm just rubbish?"

" _Patience_. You felt something, did you not?"

Harry shrugged.

"While legillimency is considered an aggressive act, it is necessary for the person casting it to maintain a sense of control, an awareness of their own minds and emotions, in order to fully utilize the spell and be able to enter into the mind of another. To be devoid of one's own emotions is not by any means essential, nor even warranted as can often help in the case of occlumency – but the ability to focus that energy, that will, into the casting of the spell is required in order to be successful."

Harry considered the words – tried to hone in on all he was feeling – tried to gather it all up to use in his next attempt.

"Now. Focus upon me,Harry. And when you do so, clear any expectations of what you presume to find. It is that, which is currently clouding your ability to see clearly and focus your mind on the spell."

"I don't…I don't think I can do this. How can I clear my mind of what I expect to see in yours?" Harry frowned; "I know I'm gonna see them. Mum and Grace. And him. And…me. I think I know you pretty well now, Sir."

Snape just looked back at him.

"Try."

Harry did try. Tried as hard as he could, to try and not anticipate what he was going to see in Snape's head. Not be clouded by his own expectations and prejudgments and, well, his _knowledge_ about Snape's life and all of his secrets.

It took ages.

They were at it for over an hour – classes would be starting soon, and they'd need to stop – and Harry was beginning to feel pretty disheartened, when it seemed as if they – he – was getting nowhere.

Until, finally, he _did._

Just when he was sure Snape was about to suggest they stop, he got it. A flicker.

"Legillimens."

Harry had pretty much given up hope at that point, that he'd find anything. He supposed that meant his mind was clear – no expectations whatsoever – and when he did, as his eyes looked deeply into the black ones opposite, it happened.

He saw his mum.

It was so brief – just a flicker – and it was _familiar_ , Harry realized, when it passed across his line of vision.

His mum sitting opposite him – or, rather, Snape – and she was smiling, widely, on the other side of a table. A table in the Bistro of the Foundation, Harry realized it. And he _remembered_ that –

In his excitement, he lost it. His own memory coming to mind and snuffing out Snape's.

It was from that day, so, so, _so_ long ago, under the Invisibility Cloak with Malachi, when he'd spotted her. _Them_. His mum with Snape at the Foundation, having lunch, as the two of them had been sneaking out, on their way to find Sirius.

Her smile wide, in a way Harry hadn't seen – back then – so much so, that he'd been mesmerized by it. His mum's happiness with the man sitting opposite her.

"Very good, Harry," Snape's voice drew Harry from his thoughts.

Harry swallowed, realizing he wasn't even looking at Snape anymore – his eyes on his chest – and quickly looked back up at him; "Oh. I…I lost it. My focus."

"It happens. Ones own experiences may be triggered and cause the enchantment to slip away. It was impressive, for a first attempt."

"A first –" Harry shot him a look; " – it was, like, my _thousandth_ attempt. I wasn't even paying attention."

"Indeed. You were out of your own head. This, in actuality, should be quite an easy skill for you to pick up, upon further reflection."

"Um. You're insulting me, right?" Harry narrowed his eyes, getting a smile.

Snape's own lips twitched – another almost-smile – before he got to his feet; "We shall conclude here, lest you miss the opportunity to have breakfast prior to your classes."

Harry glanced at the timepiece that told him – if he ran – he'd have all of ten minutes to scoff something down before double Transfiguration.

Harry got to his feet.

"When should I come back?"

Severus eyed him, looking impressed, Harry realized, at his eagerness.

He inclined his head; "Saturday morning. 9am."

His second not-date with Daphne was on Saturday.

"Oh," Harry immediately felt disappointed.

"Oh?" Snape raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms; "Do I impede on some prior engagement with my suggestion, Mr. Potter?"

Harry glanced away; "Just…I was…I'm helping someone with something. Um…Daphne – she…I'm showing her some defence stuff. She wanted to –"

Harry shook his head. Why was he telling _Snape_ that, of all people? As if he'd care that he had a girl – a date – a _thing._

"It doesn't matter."

"Sunday. 9am."

Harry met Snape's eyes, sharply, at the change.

Snape turned away from him, beginning to rearrange the chairs he'd pulled up for them.

"And do try to keep out of trouble in the meantime, Harry."

Harry got a smile.

"Thank you, Sir."

Snape met his eyes over his shoulder. The two of them holding one another's look – Harry smiling, and Snape still looking at him with that _look_ that Harry was still not quite used to yet – and then Snape nodded at timepiece.

"Breakfast, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, and hurried from the room.

* * *

A letter had come for Malachi in the Owl Post that morning.

He knew from the handwriting that it was from his dad – knew that he must have heard, by now, about the things he'd written – and had tucked it away, to read it in private.

He was glad – extremely glad – that his own dad wasn't the kind of parent who'd actually send a _howler_ or something, and mortify him in the middle of the Great Hall like other kids' parents seemed so apt to do, when their kids disappointed them.

A staunch, furiously written scolding from his dad on his misjudgments and behaviour would, as always, be enough to ruin his week even without the whole bloody school knowing about it.

He stepped into the Common Room, quietly, practically _sneaking_ in – the way he used to, before things had calmed down a little – hoping not to be spotted.

The whole school might not get to hear how furious his dad was about it, but they _did_ all know, now, that he was Max E. MacLean and that, in itself, had some rather weird ripple effects.

Most of the Slytherins just ignored him now – knowing better than to actually make any physical moves against him, after how Severus had intervened at the end of last year – though some offered smiles and nods.

But, mostly, it was the other Houses that were acting strangely around him. Especially the _girls._

"Come to the dance with me, then."

Malachi hesitated, eyes going to the side when he heard Draco's voice in the corner of the Common Room.

His cousin was talking to Daphne – asking her to the Halloween dance – and Daphne gave him a little smile, from where she was sitting on the nook near the bookcases.

"I – I'm sorry. I think I'm going with someone else, Draco."

"What, Potter?"

Malachi picked up on the venom in Draco's tone all the way across the room – more prominent, a hatred for his best friend, than his cousin had ever expressed before – and Daphne lifted her chin, noticing as well.

"Is that why you're asking me? Because you know I'd be going with Harry?"

"Couldn't care less, Daph," Draco said, not sounding at all bothered that Daphne was turning him down – making it obvious his intentions in asking her weren't simply to enjoy the night in her company – and he went on; "Not that I don't think you could do better."

"Better, huh?" Daphne didn't sound mad at him – if anything, she sounded disappointed – and she shook her head; "I think what you did to Malachi was really cruel, Draco –"

Malachi glanced away, suddenly feeling awkward for eavesdropping.

" – that wasn't the same boy who saved me on the train."

Malachi frowned, looking back at them, baffled at the new information.

Draco's back was to him, so he couldn't see his face, but he was just looking at Daphne, now, for a second. And then he said; "Go with Potter, then, Daphne. Bad enough being Elijah-Bloody-Greengrass' daughter; what's another mark on your back."

He strode on past her – still not noticing Malachi – and headed on down the tunnel that led to the dorms.

Daphne watched after him, a frown on her face, before turning back to her book.

Malachi waited a minute, still baffled and a bit uncomfortable by what he'd overheard, before he made more noise than necessary as he walked in – making it sound as if he'd just stumbled on down into the room – and Daphne met his eyes, giving him a smile.

Malachi just smiled back, heading on through to the dorms, and went into his own – the fourth-year dormitory – and flung himself onto his bed, drawing the curtains with a flick of his wand.

He pulled the letter his dad had sent out of his pocket, not dwelling on the conversation he'd overheard, but making a mental note to tell Harry about it. Maybe then he'd finally gather his nerves and actually _ask_ Daphne to be his date to the dance, knowing she was turning people down waiting on him.

Malachi broke the wax seal to open the letter.

When he did, the parchment unraveled, and a picture fell onto his chest.

Malachi reached for it, lifting it to look at what had been sent.

It was a picture of the Foundation – one of the entrance lobby – and there were three new posters encased in glass and mounted on the wall.

Malachi frowned, peering at it, recognizing the titles immediately: standing out a mile in the crowded room.

The titles of his own articles.

Malachi quickly lifted the letter up to his eye level, the picture clutched alongside it, reading the words his dad had written.

_I am so proud of you._

_Love, Dad._

Malachi stared at the words.

At first, he was too stunned at the unexpected response to feel anything other than that.

Stunned.

But then he felt moved beyond measure, a tightening in his gut and a blurring of his vision.

Before he finally smiled – basking in his father's expressed pride – as his eyes went back to the picture of his words, mounted proudly upon his dad's – the Foundation's – walls, for all to see.

Malachi drew in a breath, pushing himself back up to a sitting position on the bed, putting the letter and the picture onto the sheets beside him.

And then he accioed all he needed – a jar of ink, a quill and some parchment – and started to write once more.

And once he'd finished, some hours later, missing dinner and not stopping for a break, he signed off his name – his own name – this time, without hesitating.

Malachi R. Black.


	76. October 1995: A Story of Souls

"Wait – _what?"_

Harry looked at Malachi in astonishment, while Malachi tried – futilely – to pretend he didn't notice the girls that kept walking past where they were sat by the lake, their eyelids batting at him whenever he accidentally made eye contact.

" _Malfoy_ saved Daphne on the train – why, _how?"_

"I dunno," Malachi shrugged, self-consciously drawing his knees up to his chest and focusing his eyes entirely upon the new article he was writing when one of the girls – a _really_ pretty one – shot him a smile; "I just heard them talking about it."

"How would he even know –" Harry paused, before he declared, suddenly; "He's a _Death Eate_ r!"

Malachi shot him a look. But he could neither deny nor laugh it off, for he'd been worrying the same thing the past couple of days.

"Will you be quiet?"

"Well, if he's really a Death Eater, then he's picked his side, right?" Harry said, frowningly, though he did as Malachi asked and lowered his voice.

Malachi shrugged.

He'd heard more than Harry had about what had happened to his Aunt Cissy.

About how Voldemort had made her line up – with Draco and his Uncle Lucius and the crazy woman who was his other 'aunt', who had literally _tortured_ him at Easter – and then killed his Aunt Cissy in front of his dad.

She was a Death Eater, then, if what had trickled down through the Slytherin Common Room gossip were true. Or she'd run with them, at least.

His dad had still cried for her. He'd seen him, that day, in the bathroom – before he'd noticed him and tried to hide it – before Malachi had been sent away with Harry and Mrs. Potter, for the night, before heading back to school.

His Aunt Cissy: his dad still saw her as family.

And she'd been Draco's _mum._ And he'd been there, too; had _watched_ …

Malachi knew that pain.

"He's still my cousin," Malachi said, quietly, putting down the quill and glancing around them, only going on when he was sure no one could overhear; "And you know what the Ministry are doing to kids whose parents are found out to be Death Eaters. He'd get expelled and be _stuck_ with them, all the time."

The thought made Malachi almost physically shiver _._

Even just to be stuck with Draco's dad didn't sound particularly appealing.

His Uncle Lucius had been terrifying, even _before_ he'd been sent to Azkaban.

"He's just told Voldemort who you are, Malachi! That you're _Max_. Voldemort kidnapped Daphne's sister just for being a _little bit_ connected to the articles. That doesn't seem very cousin-like, to me."

"Well, allow me to be a little less _cousin-like_ to him, in return then," Malachi pushed himself up, straighter; "Draco asked _Daphne_ to be his date to the Halloween Dance."

Harry's eyebrows lowered, instantly – quickly becoming a dark scowl – making Malachi snicker.

"They're going to the dance _together_?"

He sounded more than a bit gutted which made Malachi scoff.

"Eh - do you even _pay attention_ when she's talking to you?"

At Harry's continuing frown, Malachi took pity on him.

"She wants _you._ Idiot –" Malachi rolled his eyes, chuckling; "She told Draco she's going with you."

Harry's eyes lit up – like a true idiot, indeed; "She did? I haven't even asked her yet."

"Well, you better hurry up about it. Next thing you know, someone way cooler might ask her," Malachi shot him a smirk; "Like me."

Harry burst into laughter then, as Malachi shot an embarrassed look in the girls' direction, that were still hovering about.

"Well, you're gonna have to pick one," Harry told him, leaning back against the tree trunk beside him; "What about Ginny? She's your year and she's pretty."

"Weasley's not even there," Malachi said, risking a quick glance at the girls, committing them to memory in that second and swearing he'd never ask any of them; "And no, thanks. I'll leave the star-crossed Gryffindor/Slytherin love affair to you."

"Someone in your own House finally taken your fancy?"

"I was gonna just ask Luna."

" _Really_?"

Malachi shot him a look when Harry didn't bother to hide his surprise.

"Oh. Um…sorry," Harry quickly said; "I mean. I heard what people are saying but…well, you've never mentioned her."

"I don't really care about going with anyone. Just figured if I had a date, it'd keep _them_ away," Malachi said, eyes going back at the lingering girls, before he asked, curiously; "What are people saying?"

"You know. That she fancies you. That you dancing with her must have been some sort of pity thing. That you can do better."

Malachi's eyebrows lowered, immediately offended on Luna's behalf.

"Wasn't so long ago they thought _I_ was scum."

Harry shrugged; "You know what people are like. You're famous now."

Malachi shook his head, feeling _extremely_ annoyed, for some reason, in light of what Harry had just told him.

"Well, if she even _wants_ to go with me, I'm going with Luna. She's one of the only people in this place actually acting normal right now."

Harry got a little grin.

"If you say so," Harry glanced away, before adding; "How were you gonna ask her?"

Malachi snorted, getting a grin of his own, as he lifted his quill back up.

"Just say; 'Daphne, I fancy you'. She'll know what to do."

Harry reddened a bit, rolling his eyes – _"she already knows I fancy her"_ – and got to his feet.

"I'm seeing her now. I'll catch you later," Harry told him.

Malachi gave a nod of goodbye and Harry headed off – for his date – and, within seconds of his departure, he heard someone else approach.

"Hi," the girl said – a fifth year, Malachi realized – as he reluctantly lifted his head; "I _really_ like your articles."

Malachi hesitated, before forcing a smile.

* * *

Harry headed on up the Astronomy Tower – careful not to be spotted by anyone as he crept inside – and mulled on what he and Malachi had just been talking about.

Okay.

_Okay._

Daphne was already telling people that they were going to the dance together. He wondered if that were something that should annoy him – that she had _presumed –_ he'd heard people, especially girls, claiming such presumptions were in some way offensive but Harry didn't feel offended.

Not at all.

He was _delighted._

So much so, that when he spotted Daphne standing in the middle of the top room, waiting for him – the training dummy and the cushions already set up – he just _blurted_ it out, the moment he saw her, as she started to greet him:

"I got here early, I –"

"Do you wanna go to the dance with me?"

Daphne looked back at him, quickly. She hadn't even been _looking_ at him, when he'd said it, her eyes on the defence stuff. But now, when she did, she had a look of surprise. At least at first, the first sparkles of amusement quickly becoming apparent as a smile played on her lips.

She raised her eyebrows, innocently.

"Huh?"

Harry cleared his throat – that annoying blush coming over him, _again,_ but her flirty look was more than a little bit encouraging _–_ and he headed up to her, saying more slowly, clearly, _confidently_ when he was standing in front of her.

"Do you want to go to the dance with me?"

He said it, feeling incredibly brave – which was ridiculous, as he already _knew_ that her answer was yes – and Daphne's eyes flicked between his.

"Yeah, I do," she got a smile, raising an eyebrow; "Funnily enough."

Harry's stomach still fluttered, even though he'd _known_ , and he chuckled, smiling back at her.

Daphne bit her bottom lip, glancing to the side – back towards the defence items – and then she met his eyes, her own sparkling with evident delight that he'd – finally – asked her.

She cleared her throat, when their giddy looks and silence stretched, and gave a nod in the direction of the defence stuff she'd set up for them before he'd arrived.

" _So_ …what new _spells_ are you gonna show me today, Potter?"

Harry got another smile at the cheekiness in her eyes when she glanced back at him, feeling mischievous himself, then. Bolstered by her acceptance and her playfulness, his smile became a grin.

"Actually, I wanted to show you something a little different, this time."

Daphne's eyebrows lifted.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, still grinning, more so, even, when he caught on to her flirty little look; "Yeah but…you have to close your eyes."

Daphne eyed him, a smile playing on her lips.

Harry chuckled.

"Come on –" his own eyes were twinkling now, just as much as hers; "– what do you think I'm gonna do?"

Daphne smiled then, lifting her chin – at those same words spoken, some weeks before – and she nodded, her eyes drifting to his lips – _knowingly_ – before doing as he asked and closing her eyes.

Harry drew in a breath, his own eyes upon her, where she stood before him. Eyes closed and trusting him. And, for a second, Harry just felt captivated.

She was so beautiful, even when she _wasn't_ smiling.

Even when she was sad.

Even when she was _mad_.

Every emotion under the sun, Harry bet.

But especially _now,_ when she just stood there, with her eyes closed, waiting for him. Knowing – _knowing_ – what he was going to do and wanting him to.

Harry licked his bottom lip and stepped in closer.

So close that he could feel the little puffs of her breath against him.

And then he leaned in even closer, closing the distance, and pressed his lips to hers.

Hers were so soft, just like he thought they'd be, and they parted slightly beneath his when they moved – which made it feel even _better_ than it already was – and then he felt her step in closer, so warm as she pressed the rest of herself against him, and he felt her hands curl around his hips, as she kissed him back.

She was better at it than he was – he realized right away – in fact, she was _very_ good at kissing and Harry reached up, suddenly forgetting how or _why_ he'd ever been shy, and took her face in his hands.

His eyes flickered open, sneaking a peek – just for a second – before he _lost_ himself in her as their lips parted just a little bit more; losing himself in this strange, new feeling that washed over him with the feel of her. So many sensations he'd never imagined he could feel, all at once, of his heart beating just a little bit too fast, and his tummy fluttering away, and he was getting _warmer_ , her lips still moving gently against his, stirring him all up and making his knees go _weak,_ as his breathing started to quicken.

It was breathing that eventually made him draw back.

Even if – illogically – he'd be quite happy and willing to just continue to _breathe_ Daphne Greengrass; her warmth and taste and scent still all around him when he met her eyes in a daze.

Daphne gave him a smile, looking just as dazed as he felt; "Huh."

He gave a little chuckle, while she giggled, and he touched his forehead to hers, still keeping her close.

And then, once he'd filled his lungs quite enough with air, he leaned back in, his lips finding hers again.

* * *

"Look, Mummy!"

Grace bounded up to her mum, where she was standing at the gate to the grounds of the Learning Centre, talking to one of her teachers.

She held up the basket of vegetables she'd picked, proudly; "We got to visit the farmstead, today, see! For harvest! We can eat these, Mummy!"

Her mum gave a smile, saying goodbye to Mrs. Gillan, and put a hand on Grace's shoulder, giving her a squeeze; "Those look lovely, Sweetheart. Will we make a soup?"

"We can make anything!" Grace declared, as her mum opened the gate, and they hurried out to leave; "There's so much food at the farmstead. And special plants and flowers, too! We were planting seeds today to grow some more in the greenhouses."

Her mum smiled, reaching to take the basket for her, when she noticed her struggling to walk with it; "Sounds like you're enjoying being back."

"We don't just do boring things like planting, though," Grace told her, taking her hand as they headed towards the Foundation gates; "They had a person come in today a Her…"

"Herbologist?"

"Yes! A Herbiologist –"

She noticed her mum's lips twitch but carried on.

"And she was talking about the best time to plant different seeds for the _magical_ plants. The ones people use in potions," Grace said, excitedly adding; "Like Daddy!"

Her mum stopped walking then and Grace stopped, too, when she realized, looking over her shoulder at her mum. At her mum's confused look, Grace rolled her eyes, giving her a smile.

"Don't you _remember_ , Mummy, how Daddy would make potions in the basement?"

Her mum looked around them, looking a bit worried – even a bit upset – and Grace immediately felt upset, too, that her mum might be.

Her mum knelt down in front of her, taking her hands; "Sweetheart, Mrs. Gillan was telling me you've been talking about your Daddy to some of the other children."

Grace nodded; "Yes. I was telling them how good he is at making potions! But people thought I was lying. They said Mr. Black would be even more famous, then."

"Mr. Black?"

"Lots of kids think I'm _his_. And some other people even think _Uncle Remus_ is my daddy. Isn't that silly?"

Grace laughed.

Her mum didn't laugh, just smiled – sadly, still, even though Grace could see she was trying to pretend she was happy – and stroked her hair.

"Sweetheart. Your daddy…I want you to think about him, as often as you like, but…Grace, you can't talk about him. Not anymore. Not to anyone that isn't family, okay?"

Grace frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because…because your Daddy…it's a secret."

"Why is it a _secret_?"

Her mum immediately looked like she regretted using the word; "No. Not a secret – sorry, Sweetie – but, it's…it's _private._ Who your Daddy is. Do you remember anything else? Anything you haven't already told me?"

Grace shook her head, with a frown, trying to grasp for him – for a look at his face – but she couldn't find him in her head.

"He's good at potions and he's a Slytherin and he loves us very much."

Her mum got a smile, giving a nod; "Yes, he does."

Grace smiled, then, when she recognized her mum's was real this time, and then she stepped in, giving her a tight hug, arms wrapped around her neck.

"It's okay, Mummy," she whispered; "I know you miss him, too."

She felt her mum's arms tightening around her, a kiss pressed to her hair, and then she drew back, getting to her feet.

Her mum held out a hand and Grace took it, the two of them carrying on their way down to the gates, heading – just the two of them – back home.

* * *

Snape's legillimency lessons didn't seem all that exciting anymore.

It had been two weeks since that first one and, despite them doing this three times a week since, they were getting nowhere.

Harry had a couple more flutters, teasing a memory. Occasional glances at his mum, or at Mr. Black, or at Malachi, if he were lucky, but sometimes it was just extremely dull things like Snape's desk or the students from a point at the front of the Potions classroom.

Hard as he tried, he could never see any further than glimpses; the sight of each of them quickly stirring his _own_ memories of them or boring him so much he'd lose his concentration, snuffing out what he was looking at.

And, of course, now that he and Daphne had started kissing – they were doing that way more than they were doing defensive spells, now, in the Astronomy Tower – and _that_ was way better than looking at the unsubstantial flashes inside Snape's head.

"Somewhere else you would rather be, Harry?"

Harry started at the sound of Snape's voice, drawing him from his thoughts, and he realized he'd actually zoned out in the chair sitting opposite him in Snape's office.

Harry cleared his throat – was he in the middle of casting a spell? – and shook his head; "No, Sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow, doubtfully, but he didn't look annoyed with him.

Snape rarely looked annoyed with him now – there was always that lingering of _something_ behind his looks, and a softness in his tone – whenever they had these sessions.

He was far more patient than Harry was, anyway, when it came to his lack of progress.

"I just…" Harry glanced away; "I just don't think I'm very good at this. I think you're wasting your time, actually. I know you're really busy –"

"I know very well what you have been _up to,_ Mr. Potter, when you have not been occupied with these lessons, or you designated school duties," Snape told him, leaning back in his chair.

Harry could have sworn he looked _amused._

Was he really talking about _Daphne_?

"These sessions – while by no means compulsory – are for your own good. And you are entirely correct in your assertions – I am _extremely_ busy, in fact – but I _am_ willing to prioritize these tutorials, so long as you are willing to show the same courtesy in turn."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, cowed by the fact Snape wasn't scolding him, the way he would in the past; "I _am_ willing, Sir. Just rubbish, is all."

"You are finding memories and losing them," Snape said, getting straight to it; "But there has, undoubtedly, been an improvement. You are finding them with a swiftness that your earlier attempts lacked. The next time that you do – keep your own mind clear of expectations – and use them."

Harry frowned.

"Use…what? Your memories?"

"Yes. The flashes. They will unravel – the memories – if you allow yourself to linger in them, just _looking,_ not thinking – I _did_ say this ought to be your strong suit, Mr. Potter – and the layers will unfold and allow you in further. As soon as you start thinking, allowing your own thoughts and emotions to affect the enchantment, the memories will slip away."

Harry drew in a breath, nodding; "Okay. Okay, I'll try."

Snape nodded, not even bothering to straighten up where he sat, still leaning back and looking entirely comfortable; both in Harry's presence and with the fact that Harry was about to try and get into his head.

Maybe he just knew there was no way Harry was going to see anything worth seeing.

Harry gripped his wand and spoke the incantation – _"Legillimens" –_ and the flutters, the flashes continued. His mum appeared this time and Harry tried to look at it – the memory – unfeelingly.

He _heard_ something that time; " _Severus_."

It quickly slipped away, when he immediately thought of how awkward he'd felt the first time his mum had called him that in front of Harry.

"Again," Snape lifted his chin.

Harry tried again.

It was Mr. Black that time, laughing, and he lingered on that, and it _changed_ – the first time it had done so – and became another one.

" _Going mad, Sev?" Mr. Black was grinning at him, but Harry could only see him out the corner of his eye, as he moved around an office – Mr. Black's office – at the Foundation._

It morphed again.

_Mr. Black wasn't looking at him, this time – avoiding his eyes, actually – as they stood in the same office._

_And Snape was_ angry _with him._

" _He is your son, Regulus. That is something you cannot walk away from."_

Harry thought of Malachi then – unable to help himself – and the memories slipped away: back into his own mind.

Harry gave his head a shake – feeling more than a little disorientated – and when he did, he noticed Snape was sitting in exactly the same position as he had been, before.

But, this time, he was looking at him with a look of evident satisfaction – pride, even – on his face.

"Very good, Harry."

Harry beamed at him and Snape's eyes averted, immediately, as soon as he did – his lips twitching in that almost-smile that Harry delighted in evoking – before he cleared his throat, meeting Harry's eyes again.

"I _heard_ them, this time," Harry told him, still smiling; "You were really mad."

It amused Harry, getting even just that little glimpse. Getting into Snape's head – properly – and seeing and knowing that he got just as mad and annoyed at someone else, as he did Harry.

Even Mr. Black.

Harry chuckled, delighted, and realized that must have been what Malachi was talking about, when he told him stories about what the two of them used to be like, together, when Malachi was a kid.

Harry gripped his wand – feeling more confident and excited, now – and said, "Should I try again?"

Snape inclined his chin, still looking amused; "Bear in mind, it will not work if you are unable to get that excitement focused in a more productive manner, Mr. Potter."

Harry quickly focused his mind and tried again.

He didn't get anything other than a flutter the next time. Or the time after that.

But the third time – the _third_ time – he found her.

Grace.

Harry was so stunned by the sight of his sister before him – the first time he'd seen her, since they'd started this – that it was only that, that stopped him from losing the memory right away.

_She was a baby, maybe six months old, held in his – Snape's – arms, facing him, green eyes wide as she giggled in delight._

It morphed into another.

_His little sister was older – maybe three, maybe four – and she was smiling, adoringly, at him – at Snape – from where she sat on her knees on the floor in front of the fireplace at home._

" _Look, Daddy, we got these for you."_

_She held out her hand, giving a shake, and another hand, long thin fingers, reached out and took them – white pebbles with brown spots –their fingertips brushing as he did._

It morphed.

" _Can you sing me a song?" Grace turned bright eyes upon him, hopefully._

" _A story, perhaps."_

" _Don't you like to sing, Daddy? Mummy does."_

" _I would rather not."_

_Grace giggled and Snape's hands appeared in his line of vision once more, grasping her by the sides and lifting her up and over his shoulder, before they headed towards the stairs, Harry getting an upside down view of Snape's feet as they moved._

It morphed again.

" _Mummy and me make cakes, you know, and Harry too!"_

_Grace was stirring a bowl of mixture, her green eyes and bright smile upon him._

" _That certainly sounds like a pleasant way to spend the afternoons."_

" _Yup," Grace glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of the kitchen door – checking for Mum – and waved a hand at him to come closer._

_Snape leaned down, letting her whisper in his ear; "And Harry sneaks me tastes of the mixture when Mummy's not looking."_

" _Hm. I can certainly believe that, your brother is rather mischievous, himself."_

" _He's the best! And he loves me lots."_

" _I'm certain he does."_

_Grace grinned, impishly._

" _And you do too, don't you, Daddy?"_

" _Indeed, I do."_

" _As much as pudding?"_

_Grace lifted the bowl up, eyebrows lifting in turn._

_Snape leaned down then and pressed his lips to her cheek, making her giggle._

" _More, even, than that."_

Harry was suddenly thrown from the memory – from Snape's mind – with unexpected force; nothing at all like the way he had been the other times, when the memories had simply slipped away.

Harry gave himself a shake – beyond disoriented, having been entirely lost in Snape's mind, so focused upon the memory – that it felt odd to suddenly be back inside his own head, in Snape's office.

He glanced across at Snape.

Snape's eyes were on the floor.

It took a few moments for Harry to realise what had happened.

Snape had thrown up his occlumency barriers: forced Harry back out.

Harry eyed him, where he sat, uneasily, and wondered if he should apologise. But he was so unnerved himself – as Snape seemed to be – not just at seeing his sister with Snape but seeing them – _him_ – like that.

Or, even, like _this_.

Harry could tell, looking at him where he sat, that Snape was trying to keep his emotions – emotions a few months ago Harry doubted the man were even capable of feeling – in check.

Snape met his eyes – quickly regain control – but when he did that warm gaze that Harry had become accustomed to these past few weeks was gone, replaced by that stoic look that was both familiar and entirely _unwelcome_ in that moment – in any moment, actually, now – and Harry realized it was a _mask_ , that he kept it all behind.

"Very good, Harry."

His voice wasn't cold though. It was still warm. And there was a little bit of a roughness to it, that told Harry that he was still uneasy, as Snape got to his feet, walking to his desk.

"I must apologise," Snape said, his back still to him as he did; "Over the years it has become habit to…" Snape drew in a breath and turned, facing him once more; "Your efforts were impressive, Harry. Let us leave it at that for the day."

Obviously concluding the lesson and wanting Harry to leave.

"I miss her, too," Harry said, getting to his feet, and going to him – grasping for that connection they'd almost had – and Snape looked hesitant, meeting his eyes.

Harry shook his head.

"I know it's not the same. I know…I know it's much, _much_ harder for you. But…she loves you so much, she told me, this summer, and –"

"Harry."

"I just want you to know that she hasn't _really_ forgotten you," Harry told him, wanting to comfort him, somehow – and he didn't even think that seemed so strange, anymore, that he did – and went on; "She still loves you. Even after the spell. She still knows you're special, Sir."

Snape swallowed, his eyes on Harry's out the corner of his, and then he drew in a breath, giving him a nod.

And the side of his lip turned a little, like those not-smiles he'd give Harry sometimes.

But this one wasn't in amusement.

This one was in _affection_.

Harry could see it – could read it in him – now.

Harry didn't think what he'd said was enough. Obviously, he'd known Grace adored her dad – Snape – she'd told him, so many times. She'd even told him about that memory, that very one he'd just seen, about how he'd loved her more than pudding. She'd said it so much, Harry couldn't help but think she'd just made it up herself.

But he'd known, of course, that Snape must love Grace, too.

His daughter.

But seeing them together and knowing that he'd walked away – no other choice.

Harry had never really _got_ it. How hard that must have been for him, until he'd seen them, just now.

Harry wanted to say more, to do something else, to take the hurt away, but he didn't really know how to do that.

And when the silence lingered, Snape just inclined his chin, dismissing him once more.

And, Harry supposed, Snape probably didn't even really want Harry here for this. He probably _wanted_ to be alone.

Harry drew in a breath, accepting the dismissal, and gave a smile, hoping making that would be enough.

"Goodnight then, Sir."

Snape looked warmed, then, the way Harry was becoming used to – the way he wanted it to stay – before he turned back to his desk.

Harry's eyes lingered on him, the whole way from the desk to the door, as he left the room.

* * *

Severus headed down the office corridors at the Foundation. His mind still dwelled upon his encounter with Harry the night before; both the memories – that he had struggled with – and Harry's warmth and kindness – that he _also_ struggled with – when he had recognized how Severus was affected.

Severus rolled his eyes, as he reached the door to his office; this would not do.

The very magic itself – legillimency – required openness and vulnerability which, granted, where not exactly Severus' strong suits nor an area of great – if any – comfort. But Severus had, certainly, been through far worse than having to _endure_ having to see his daughter's smile and adoration in his own head, knowing that it was being seen by another.

Throwing up his occlumency barriers – losing his _own_ calm – would do nothing to help Harry, here.

Severus spoke the incantations to release the locking charms, before pushing open the door and heading into his office.

He hesitated in his steps, just over the threshold, when he noticed Regulus was inside, sitting in the guest chair opposite his desk, waiting for him.

Severus pushed the door shut behind him, as Regulus met his eyes and gave him a nod.

Not a smile.

Not a word.

And Severus knew, immediately; "Is something wrong?"

He made his way up to the desk – meaning to take his chair behind it – but he stopped when Regulus stood as he reached him.

"It's not going to work."

Severus shook his head.

Refused to believe it.

"How can you be certain? We have not even begun –"

"We can't – we can't _begin_ anything," Regulus explained, before reaching for some parchments of scribbled notes that had been laid upon Severus' desk; "Their souls – what were the signs?" at Severus' frown, he went on; "The signs you noticed, with Harry."

"Parseltongue. The mind link –"

"He has possessed him, you said."

"Yes. Three times, thus far –"

"Two of which when the two of them were separated by _vast_ distances," Regulus said, before he handed over the parchments he held; "I've been looking into the affects the binding of one soul to another has upon the afflicted –"

Severus unrolled it fully, to look at it, as Regulus went on.

" – it's not the case that the fragment of soul that Voldemort lost is just sitting there, inside of Harry, ready to be plucked out or destroyed. They _bind._ The souls."

Severus met Regulus' eyes slowly.

Regulus nodded.

"And the binding keeps happening – growing stronger – with every minute that they remain within the same vessel."

Severus lowered his eyes, as he attempted to digest the information.

His voice was a murmur when he eventually spoke.

"Neither can live while the other survives."

Regulus frowned.

"What?"

Severus swallowed, shaking his head; "The prophecy. That was the remainder of it. That one would have to die by the hands of the other; that neither could live while the other survives."

Regulus looked hesitant, as unsure of what to do with the information – and what Severus feared it actually meant – as Severus was.

Regulus shook his head, glancing away, returning to issue at hand; "It's been a year. The connection between them strengthens, rapidly, with every moment that Voldemort remains in corporeal form –"

"Perhaps it's not too late," Severus said, determinedly – grasping for any possibly straw he could – and he tossed the parchments Regulus had given him back onto the desk; "If time is so crucial, we need to get this thing out of him, now."

"No – Severus, we _can't –"_

"We can try."

"They are already sharing a consciousness, Severus," Regulus said to him, sounding both reasoned and desperate as he spoke the words; "Maybe if we'd noticed sooner –"

Severus turned away at that – his fury at Dumbledore and his secrecy rising up, coming upon him in a flash – and he barked out; "It is too late to dwell on the what ifs, Regulus! We need to act swiftly – immediately – if we are to –"

"Severus, they are _binded._ It's too late," Regulus attempted to reason with him; "If we try to pull this thing, _now_ , with the connection between them as strong as it is, we could tear _Harry's_ soul apart! He could end up completely unrecognizable to who he is now. And then _he'd_ be bound, his torn apart soul clinging to goodness knows _what_ ; stuck, undead, when his time comes, in the wasteland between life and death."

"What choice do we have?" Severus snapped, fighting down his despair, grasping for rage, for fury, for determination – anything that wasn't _giving up –_ and he shook his head; "You've just said this isn't going to stop. That the Dark Lord's soul will continue to bind, to eat away at him, until the link between them…what _are_ you saying, Regulus? That soon, the two of them will be able to possess one another at will?"

"As he does with Nagini. Yes," Regulus nodded – his regret tangible as he spoke the words – and he shook his head; "Not soon, not necessarily. It's taken years for he and Nagini to develop their bond. And we can stave it off, possibly – slow it down – so long as they are both resisting one another. But eventually, the connection between them will become so strong, that they won't be able to control it. Dipping into one another consciousness at will, even falling into it _against_ their will; privy to one another's emotions – experiencing them, even – as if they were their own. And yes…possessions. Voldemort will be able to possess Harry, as he managed to do during the times now when their connection is at its strongest, and use him to…"

Regulus tapered off.

"And if the Dark Lord were to be defeated? Would – would Harry…"

It was a foolish question and both of them knew it. Harry could not survive the Dark Lord being defeated – killed, once and for all – because the Dark Lord could not be so, so long as Harry lived.

The Dark Lord – the monster who wreaked his havoc, his _war_ , upon their world – was bound to life by his son.

"We'll find another way."

Severus met Regulus' eyes, at this friend's attempt to convince him – reassure him – that this was not, in fact, his son's death sentence.

And Severus swallowed, as he attempted to get his head around this new, unwelcome truth. That, even while Harry lived, this connection would continue to grow between them – corrupting and binding him to the Dark Lord further – with each passing moment.

Severus sunk down into the chair that Regulus had stood from. Tried, hard as he could, to keep it together but he lasted only a moment before he pressed his hands to his face.

A harsh breath left him, as the extent of it all became clear.

Severus felt Regulus' hand on his shoulder. A tightening of his grip, meant for comfort.

Severus drew in a breath, attempting to reign in some semblance of control, and lowered his hands, meeting Regulus' look.

"We _will_ find another way," Regulus repeated his statement.

There was a conviction in his words that Severus could almost – no, he _must_ – believe it.

Severus shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, the two of them back to square one.

Square one where there was not even a sliver of hope in sight – only that dreadful, horrendous acceptance by Dumbledore, that the only possible way was for Harry to die – and Severus released another breath.

Severus' voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.

"How am I supposed to tell her this?"

Regulus lowered his eyes.

And then, Regulus lifted his wand, and a box – one of the horcrux boxes of information, Severus realized – was _'accioed'_ and slid quickly across the threshold of their adjoining door, stopping with a slam against the side of Severus' desk.

Regulus walked around Severus where he sat, reaching down and hauling the box up onto his desk, and began to look through it.

Severus hesitated for only a moment, eyes upon Regulus, as he started again.

And then he drew in a breath and got to his feet – pushing on with it – and went to stand at Regulus' side.

Back to square one.

* * *

"Alright, Black."

"Great article."

"Hey, Black."

"One World!"

Malachi gave small, shy smiles to the people who greeted him – it still felt a little forced, even if he _was_ starting to get used to the attention, by now, and he wondered, again, how his dad did it with such ease – as he made his way into his first period defence class.

He was almost late, having been basking in delight at his dad's most recent proud letter, accompanied by another moving picture, with a new fifth article mounted alongside his previous four he'd written, that the Foundation were now distributing both in the lobby and sending out to any and all contacts, suppliers and beneficiaries.

Malachi hurried into the classroom, dropping down his bag, and quickly climbed up onto his stool – shooting Professor Lupin a sheepish smile – but the lesson hadn't started yet.

In fact, it seemed as if there was something holding it up, Professor Lupin just giving him a warm smile in turn from where he stood at the front of the classroom, before turning his eyes to whatever notes he was making with a frown.

"I'm really glad you've started writing again, Malachi," Luna's voice said at his side, drawing Malachi's attention to her.

Malachi gave another little smile –a real one this time, coming easily – and he shrugged; "Thanks. It's not really a big deal. My dad's sorting out the publishing and everything for me."

"It was very clever, going to him," Luna said, looking thoughtful, "The Aurelius Foundation, it is a very well-connected organisation. You'll reach far more people than you would have done, through the Quibbler."

"Oh," Malachi looked a bit sheepish at that, wondering if she was offended; "It wasn't…I mean, I didn't _go_ to my dad. He just found out. He does stuff like this, sometimes. Big gestures. He can be a real pain. He likes winding me up."

"You think he was trying to wind you up?"

Malachi got a smile, at that, shaking his head.

"No. Not this time."

"Hey, Malachi," a girl's voice to his side drew his attention.

It was one of the Ravenclaws – Irena Maloney, a muggleborn – who gave him a smile, a little bit shy, and she averted her eyes, before speaking.

"I – um – I've been reading your articles," Maloney said, getting a more confident smile; "I really loved them, the things you've been saying. It'd make such a difference to my mum and dad, if more people thought the way you do about muggles."

Malachi felt himself blush, under the unexpectedly sincere praise, as she went on.

"I thought – maybe – you might wanna talk about it with me? Tomorrow night, at the dance? If you're not going with anyone."

Malachi just looked at her for a second; flattered more than annoyed this time.

She was pretty – Maloney – definitely one of the girls the boys in the year would wink at each another about. Malachi was surprised, actually, that she wasn't already going with someone.

He shook his head.

"Oh, um. Sorry. I… I have someone already."

Maloney looked disappointed, eyes lowering, before she gave him a smile and a shrug.

"Well. Maybe next time, then."

She headed back to her desk. Her visible disappointment actually made him feel _bad,_ guilty that he might have hurt her feelings and, for a second, Malachi almost called her back to say yes.

He didn't _really_ have someone.

Not yet, anyway.

But.

He wanted to go with Luna.

Malachi frowned at the odd thought when it came to him, his eyes going to the girl at his side.

Luna wasn't even looking at him – totally unfazed by the fact someone had just asked him out right in front of her – and was humming as she doodled little pictures in the corner of her notebook.

Since when had he _wanted_ to go with Luna?

He was only planning on asking her to keep other girls away.

"You going with someone?" Malachi asked, abruptly – without any elegance whatsoever – when he realised that, yes, the dance was _tomorrow –_ as Maloney had said – and he hadn't even askedLuna yet, if she wanted to go.

He'd just assumed she would be free.

Malachi realised, then, that was a pretty rude thing to think.

Luna shook her head, eyes still on her doodles.

"No. But I'm not really expecting to. I've never gone to a dance with anyone before. I'm not sure if it's something I would really like."

So, she obviously _had_ been listening, then, to Maloney asking him out.

She just didn't care.

Malachi shook off the thought.

"You don't like dancing?"

"I don't mind it. But I _do_ like talking and reading more."

Malachi got a little smile.

"Me too."

Luna met his eyes, then, in a lingering stare before giving him a smile in turn. But she turned her attention back to her notebook, saying nothing.

Malachi shifted, starting to feel a bit nervous.

He didn't _really_ know why.

He didn't care if she said _no._

"You wanna go?" Malachi asked, as nonchalantly as possible; "With me?"

Luna lifted her eyes from her doodling, eyes meeting his, without any hint of surprise or excitement or, well, _anything_ other than her usual peculiar stare.

Malachi felt another surge of stupid nerves, as he quickly went on, averting his eyes and suddenly feeling the need to play down the invitation, just in case she was about to say no.

"We could bring books or something and _not dance,_ if you didn't want to,and have a laugh at everyone else's terrible moves."

Luna got a serene smile, eyes going to the side.

"Well. It does sound a bit better than staying in the dorm room."

"Oh," Malachi frowned, his mouth weirdly dry; "Did you not want to go at all? It's fine –" he shook his head.

"No. I'd like to go with you, Malachi," Luna said, getting a proper smile then; "I think we might even have fun."

Malachi met her eyes, getting a small, shy smile of his own.

"Yeah," he nodded, strangely _pleased_ by her acceptance, and he said more assuredly; "Yeah. I do, too."

Professor Lupin cleared his throat, then, at the front of the class, drawing everyone's attention, and Malachi noticed he still didn't look all that comfortable with whatever he had written in front of him.

"Alright, everyone," Professor Lupin said, raising his eyebrows; "Necromancy. What do we know about it?"

No one in the room breathed a word, every sitting silently, still as stone, as the next topic of study was announced.

* * *

"Well, look at _you_ , top of the ladder now!" Julia beamed at Lily, from where she sat next to her on the sofa; "You've got the lead on this one, right?"

"Not entirely, Heart's the coordinator of the project – I may have proposed it but apparently they're not _quite_ ready to unleash me yet," Lily grinned, taking a sip from her wine glass; "Could do with your thoughts, though, if you're up to it. Wouldn't want you getting rusty during this 'sabbatical' of yours."

Julia chuckled, reaching for the parchments to have a look; "Talk me through it, then, Sweetie."

"Which one you got?"

"A Story of Souls…" Julia skimmed it, with narrowed eyes; "Something about…souls becoming so damaged, they accidentally end up… _splitting_. Tethering them to –" Julia's eyebrows lifted; "Tethering them to a fate worse than _death_ ; preventing a person from moving on to the afterlife."

Julia dropped the parchments she held back onto the table; "Wow. I can see why you need the wine."

Lily laughed.

"That's the worst-case scenario."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies. Is that something you've actually come across?"

"Well, it's all whispers, really –" Lily said, lifting and looking through some other parchments; " – it's not as if anyone has ever actually come back to tell the tale from that state, after all."

"Huh. No one?"

Lily met her eyes.

Julia lifted her eyebrows – obviously referring to Voldemort – and Lily gave a wry smile.

"Unfortunately, _that_ particular case is not available for comment."

"So, how does it happen?" Julia asked, lifting the parchment back up; "The split."

"Murder, usually," Lily told her, drawing Julia's eyes back to hers; "Though whether or not anything else – significant trauma, perhaps – is enough to do so is something we're looking at."

"So the soul splits with murder –" Julia leaned back, eyes still on the article; " – what happens to the parts that split?"

Lily hesitated – horcruxes immediately coming to mind, but she knew Regulus hadn't told Julia any of that – so she focused on the other side of it, saying; "That's what we're looking in to."

"Well," Julia handed the parchments back over; "I'm afraid this is far beyond _my_ areas of expertise, Lil'."

Lily grinned, taking them back and tossing them onto the table; "Well, they needn't be. It's all at your fingertips – the Research Department – should you want it. You are, after all, Foundation Royalty."

Julia scoffed, rolling her eyes; "No, thanks. Researching, is just not my thing –" Julia gave her a nudge; " – Practicing, though - gotta admit. I miss it,"

She glanced away as she went on.

"I see it passing by every day in the papers and … Well. I know me being there would be in no way _helpful_ now, but …"

"Well, hey, next time anyone I know is in need of a healer –" Lily said, finishing off her drink with a smile, before pointing her finger in Julia's direction, " – I'm coming to you, Jules."

Lily lifted the bottle of wine, topping up her own empty glass, and began to lean in the direction of Julia's.

"Do you – oh, you haven't touched your wine."

Julia waved a hand, dismissively; "You know me, prefer the red."

"Oh, well, I've got a few in the basement –" Lily made to get up, but Julia lifted a hand, declining.

"Oh, it's fine, Honey –" Julia said, with a shake of her head; " – it's getting a bit late, now."

Lily hesitated, glancing at the timepiece – which read just after seven – and got a frown, before she looked quickly back in Julia's direction.

Julia met her eyes, holding her look for only a second, before a smile played on her lips and she averted her gaze.

"Oh my gosh!" Lily squealed.

"Aw –"

Lily pounced on her, throwing her arms around her best friend, with a delighted laugh while Julia laughed, rolling her eyes, seeming to _blush,_ even, under Lily's glee.

" _Oh my gosh_!" Lily said again, drawing back, with her arms still around her, her eyes going to Julia's abdomen; "You're –"

"Yup," Julia nodded, rolling her eyes, but a smile still played on her lips; "We had a … _moment_ where neither of us were particularly _careful_ and apparently that's all it takes. Heed the pamphlets, kids."

Lily burst into giggles, pressing both hands upon Julia's stomach, with a wide smile; "Aw, that's amazing, Sweetie. Oh, _congratulations_!" she flung her arms back around her, hugging her tight, while Julia chuckled, hugging her back.

"How's Regulus taking it?" Lily asked, as she drew back.

Julia raised her eyebrows.

" _Well_. I haven't told him yet."

Lily made a face; "Ah."

"Yeah," Julia nodded, before her smile turned somewhat wry; "Yeah, but I don't have to be a _seer_ to know that the answer to that question is probably going to be ' _not well'_."

"Is that why you haven't told him?" Lily asked, with a little frown, squeezing her arm.

Julia shook her head.

"No. He's been working late – _really_ late – all week – for a few weeks, actually – and, no joke, Lil', I have been _zonked._ I wasn't kidding when I said it's getting late. I've been crashing out on the couch every night by nine."

"You don't have to tell me," Lily grinned, remembering with not-quite fondness those exhausting, early days of pregnancy, before going on; " _That's_ not very newlywed-like, to be spending all that time in the office."

Julia chuckled, giving a shrug.

"Well, the evidence speaks for itself, Lil', it certainly hasn't been stopping us."

She and Lily laughed, while Lily pressed a hand back to Julia's stomach, unable to stop smiling.

"Well, I am so happy for you, Honey. For both of you. And Regulus – you know. We've seen him with Malachi. And he is _amazing_ with Grace."

Julia got a fond smile.

"Yeah. I know he'd be amazing, Honey. _I'm_ not the one that needs to be convinced."

"You're nervous," Lily said, her smile turning sympathetic, when she noticed.

Julia gave a little shrug.

"We've been in a good place. It's … ashame to rock the boat, is all."

"Well, this 'll definitely do that, I remember it well," Lily chuckled; "You think he'll take it that badly?"

"I dunno," Julia drew her legs up underneath her on the couch, leaning her head in her hand; "I know – in our _ideal_ world – he wants more kids. But this is … hardly ideal."

"We make the best of what we're given, Jules," Lily said, reaching out to squeeze Julia's arm, before her eyes glanced upwards to the ceiling of the room where her daughter slept; "I couldn't imagine my life without my kids. I know things would be _frightfully_ more awful without either of them."

Julia gave her a smile.

Lily returned it – nodding, sympathetically – before her own widened into a grin – glee coming over her once more – and she squealed again, throwing her arms back around Julia as they laughed.

* * *

"You looking forward to tomorrow night?" Harry asked.

Daphne got a grin, their hands swinging between them as they made their way back down from the Astronomy Tower, before shooting him a look.

"Our first official date? Yeah. What a shocker –" they shared a smile, before she lifted her shoulders, her smile turning impish; "If only to see the looks on everyone's faces when I show up with Harry Potter on my arm."

"Hope that's not the only reason you're happy going with me, Greengrass," Harry chuckled, tugging her to walk closer to him when they reached the bottom of the stairs, their sides bumping as they walked along, feeling far braver now than he had in the beginning; "Thought, maybe, you liked me."

He felt daft now for ever being shy around her.

Daphne grinned, stopping, and he did too, and then she reached up, her hands on the side of his neck as she kissed him right there in the entrance hall, where _anyone_ could see them.

Harry found he wished someone _would._

He'd happily shout it from the rooftops; that he and Daphne were…well. Were they boyfriend and girlfriend?

Surely, they must be.

Daphne kept her face close to him, when she drew back from their kiss, and when she did Harry realised he'd gotten his wish, as the second and third years had begun spilling out from their Duel Club session.

Eyes were upon them and whispers exchanged – Harry wondered if they even knew who they were, they were so much younger – but he heard his name amongst the whispers along with 'Tori's sister', and he caught the way Daphne's eyes lowered, hearing it too.

"You alright?" Harry asked, quickly picking up on Daphne's change in mood.

Daphne lifted her eyes to his, before she gave him a wry smile, and – taking his hand back in hers – they headed through the crowd in the direction of the dungeons.

"People have been talking about us, you know," Daphne said, raising an eyebrow, playfully; "Our little dance started _rumours_ 'bout who you're going with. A coupling of the _greatest_ offence, to our Housemates, apparently."

Harry chuckled, swapping the hand he was holding of hers, so that he could wrap an arm around her.

"I don't care."

He'd never cared about stupid things like that – House politics – not since Malachi had turned up at Hogwarts, a year behind him, and been Sorted into the House Ron had sworn throughout all of first year was for ' _enemies'._

"Me neither," Daphne agreed, with a smile; "Kinda funny, actually. People don't have anything better to do than care about who Harry Potter's kissing."

"Think it's because you're extra special," Harry said, grinning, touching his cheek to hers as they still walked, their closeness making it more of a stumble, as they descended the stairs to the dungeons; " _Daphne Greengrass_ is a Slytherin, didn't you know; way too smart for a foolish, impulsive Gryffindor like me. Must've slipped her a love potion or something."

Daphne giggled, rolling her eyes, and pressing a kiss to his cheek, before whispering; "Doubt that's what they're saying."

They chuckled and traded teasing comments and quick little kisses – feeling incredibly _daring_ as they did so, while the other, younger Slytherins also making their way down shot them disapproving looks – still holding tight to one another's hands as they made their way down to the dungeons.

"Did you hear Malachi's going with Luna Lovegood?" she said, when they took the last few steps down the stairs; "I didn't think he'd want to go with anyone. Y'know. After Emma."

Harry got a smirk; "Think he knew better than to show up at the dance without a shield."

Daphne laughed, then, nodding in acknowledgement at the interest Malachi was suddenly getting from all the third and fourth years. Even some of the fifth years, come to think of it.

"Common Room's just there," Daphne nodded in its direction, where the nosey second and third years were flocking – looking over their shoulders at the two of them and continuing to whisper amongst themselves – as if Harry didn't already know his way about the place.

But then, Daphne probably _didn't_ know how well-acquainted Harry was with the dungeons.

"This is me," Harry said, stopping and nodding at the door to Snape's office as they reached it – which, obviously, Daphne knew – and she nodded, stopping as well and turning to face him, to say their farewells.

The two of them just looked at one another, as the last of the other Slytherins passed them and tapered off, trickling off to the dorms and Common Room.

And then they grinned, stepping in closer to one another, kissing again – as if they hadn't already done so, repeatedly, all the way back – but _this_ time, Harry thought it just might be one of the _really_ good ones, where his knees would go weak and his head would go fuzzy.

Not so, apparently, despite the obvious promise behind it.

Footsteps on the stone ground, skidding to a halt, make them break apart from one another, quickly, to look at who'd caught them.

Malfoy.

Malfoy eyed them with disgust, saying nothing, and just headed on by them, along the corridor and up the stairs they'd just come down.

Harry and Daphne watched after him – and Harry noticed Daphne looked a little concerned, not about what Malfoy had _seen,_ he realised, but actually about _him –_ and Harry opened his mouth to speak but, just as he was about to, the door behind him was pulled open and he sprung back from Daphne completely.

"Miss Greengrass. Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, eyeing them both, where they now stood over a foot apart from one another; "I did wonder if you had forgotten your scheduled detention, Mr. Potter –" he jerked his head the direction of the office, before saying; " – Miss Greengrass, return to the Common Room."

Snape turned on his heel, heading into the office, while Harry and Daphne shared amused smiles between them before Harry hurried on in behind him, closing the door as he did.

"Ten minutes late," Snape said, looking entirely unimpressed with him.

"Sorry," Harry said, suddenly realising maybe lingering and fooling around with Daphne on the slow walk back _wasn't_ worth Snape's annoyance with him, now that he was suddenly faced with it; "I was –"

"Spare me the explanations, I _do_ have eyes and ears, Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted him, with a quick jerk of his chin in the direction of the chairs already set up, as he added, briskly; "Ready yourself."

Harry immediately went over, taking a seat.

"You know how it is, Sir," Harry said, getting a grin as Snape approached to take the chair opposite; "Sometimes you just can't help yourself. I've got eyes, too. Had them all summer, actually."

Snape stopped in his steps – the abruptness of which belying his surprise – and he met Harry's eyes at that. Snape looked at him for a second, before rolling his own, though a smile played on his lips now.

"That is quite enough of your _cheek_ , Harry. We are fifteen minutes behind, as it is."

Snape sat down opposite, knee to knee, and raised an eyebrow.

"Go."

" _Legillimens_."

Harry surprised them both by actually getting something on his first attempt.

His mum.

_His mum was standing before him – Snape – cheeks flushed and eyes burning with determination, before she declared, passionately:_

" _Severus. I'm in love with you."_

 _And then she_ pounced _kissing Snape with ardour._

The memory quickly slipped away. Way, _way_ too many thoughts and emotions of Harry's own springing to him in that moment for him to possibly hold onto it.

As if he would _want_ to.

It was hard to tell who was more embarrassed – he or Snape – when he got his bearings, the two of them sitting opposite one another.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him; "Did you do that on purpose?"

Snape scoffed, rolling his eyes.

But Harry wasn't entirely convinced. In fact, he was quite certain that mortifying Harry – as he currently now felt – was _exactly_ something Snape would do to teach him a lesson, in retaliation for his cheek.

Snape smirked, when Harry's awkwardness carried on longer than his did, and he inclined his chin.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, gripping his wand – _bracing_ himself for whatever might come next – and spoke the incantation once more.

"Legillimens."

His mum came back – she was obviously on Snape's mind – and they were in bed this time, which almost made Harry lose the memory right away, but they were fully dressed in night clothes and just talking.

" _Harry's been asking questions…about Grace."_

" _I thought Lupin had dealt with it."_

" _Imaginary dad isn't cutting it, anymore."_

It wavered, almost lost, but Harry held onto it – keeping it all clear – and then the memory morphed.

_It was still his mum's – his mum and Snape's – bedroom, the two of them still talking in bed – the only indication that it was a different memory, the change of clothing – as if it were all entirely normal for them._

_This was their home. Their life._

_Snape didn't seem particularly happy, though._

" _Remus knows about us."_

" _Like that would stop him."_

" _He's a friend."_

" _Don't act naïve, Lily, you'd have to be_ blind _not to notice. Why else would he persist with his constant hovering and interference in our lives?"_

The memory wavered, again, Harry's own thoughts about his mum and his Uncle Remus – the obviousness of what Snape implied – threatening to chase it away – " _He was James' best friend…" "…far be it for me to question the moral integrity of one of James Potter's cronies." –_ but it levelled back out with a jitter.

" _What if Remus is right, Sev? What if I lose him?"_

" _Lily, we both know there is no other way…these are our children._ Ours _."_

The memory morphed.

_They were in an office – it looked like Mr. Black's at the Foundation – and they were arguing now, as Harry realised it must be Snape's office, that he'd never seen inside._

" _We should have told him sooner," his mum said, looking full of regret as she said it._

"Sooner? _If anything, this theatrical display only demonstrates how entirely inept he is at handling such delicate information."_

It wavered, the memory, jittering like the last and skipping, while Harry called upon his calm.

" _Take a leaf out of Lupin's book and throw caution to the wind…"_

"… _a fourteen-year-old boy and a_ sheltered _one at that, who has no concept of the need for discretion and sacrifice in these times … unable to see past the end of his own nose; not even for the sake of his five-year-old sister –"_

"… _he sits in his dorm room, tilting at windmills and seeing conspiracies where there are none…the rest of us should be so lucky to be so excluded from all this lovely business that is war…"_

"… _frolicking and constantly looking for trouble…entirely ignorant of all the sacrifices, all the unhappiness that everyone – including his younger sister – have had to endure on his behalf…"_

"… _he cannot seriously claim that he has been living in_ hardship –"

Harry was thrown out – he didn't lose it, that time, even if everything within him was trying to burst forth, he kept it all controlled – and he quickly realised it was Snape who'd done it.

Snape had thrown him out.

Stopped him from seeing any more of it – and it washed over him, then, when Harry finally allowed it to – when he and Snape were back in his office, sitting opposite one another, a heavy silence falling upon the both of them.

Harry started to but couldn't quite meet Snape's eyes. A sudden, staggering surge of hurt coming upon him, as he remembered it all, all that had happened the year before, and – while he _knew_ what Snape's thoughts were about it all – it cut him, deep, to actually hear it spoken.

Especially now.

Especially _now_ when, Harry realised, he wanted Snape to care for him. He wanted it so much.

Like Harry did for him.

"Harry."

Snape's voice was quiet, soft, but there was roughness belying regret.

Harry kept his eyes on the floor, feeling stupid tears welling up, and he shook his head; "'s alright."

His voice sounded small, pathetic, wavering just like the memories did.

"No."

Harry closed his eyes, at the conviction behind Snape's single word, and he reluctantly, uneasily met the man's eyes.

Snape's expression revealed it all – nothing hidden – the mask _gone_ and it wasn't that warmth and affection in the man's gaze then.

No.

It was regret and shame and remorse and the look in Snape's eyes was almost pleading, as he held Harry's look, neither of them looking away – as one of them, both of them - would have done in the not so distant past.

"Harry," Snape shook his head, his own expression pained; "I was _wrong_."

Harry said nothing, simply stared back at him, but he didn't hide anything either.

He let Snape see it. How much it had hurt – how much it _still_ hurt, sometimes, when he let himself really think about it – and Snape lowered his eyes, after a moment, as if he were unable to look at him – at the depth of the pain he knew he was letting him see – and Snape got to his feet.

But Snape hesitated, as he made to pass him, and looked down at Harry where he was sitting.

Harry swallowed, looking up at him where he now stood at his side, feeling small, vulnerable, frightened that he'd be pushed away but unable to help pleading with his eyes for _something_ from him. Something more. Something a bit _more_ like what he'd seen he had with Grace.

Snape drew in a breath – his eyes seeming to bely a remorse, a deep pain of his own - and he reached out, a hand grasping Harry by the shoulder, holding it tight.

A small – a _huge –_ gesture of comfort, of apology, and Harry found when he did – Snape giving him just that little bit more – that _that_ was even harder to bear, to keep a hold of himself under, than what he'd seen and he lowered his head, as a tear spilled.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, as Harry sniffed, determined he wouldn't sob.

"Harry," Snape's voice was almost whispered, so full of regret, a tone that Harry had never heard from him, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut; "I am so sorry."

Harry whimpered and he turned and leaned into him then, his head pressed into Snape's side where his head reached, and the hand that had been on his shoulder released and moved – a little hesitantly – and went to the other side of him, Snape's arm curling around his head where he was pressed in against him, holding him closer.

Harry cried, then.

Snape's comfort – entirely unexpected but never unwanted – drawing it from him. All the hurt and all the anger and all the grief he'd felt – the betrayal still so raw within him, that they had _lived_ without him – and he heard Snape's voice murmur again, his remorse as raw as Harry's pain.

"I'm so sorry."

Harry pressed in and took it – any comfort Snape was willing to give him, accepting it, forgiving him, even though it still hurt so much – and Harry sobbed, unable to help himself, finally letting it all out, as he was held tight in Snape's arms.


	77. October 1995: Pitter Patter

A harsh breath left him.

It could – almost – have been a sob.

Severus pressed his hands to his face, elbows upon the surface of his desk that he was hunched over, drawing in a breath to steady himself, as much as he could.

He had held it together – only just – long enough to be there for Harry, to give him what he could – which would never be _enough,_ not now – and to hold him as he broke down in his arms over a pain Severus, himself, had inflicted.

Severus could barely stomach it. That the crime Harry had laid at their feet those few months ago – that they had built a life without him – was the very threat that hung over them, _now_ , should he be unable to stop this.

Such bitter irony that sickened him.

And to be reminded of those words – so cold, so cruel – spoken by him and heard by _Harry_.

The things he had said, so, so far removed from who Harry _was_ and it killed him to only realise it now – _now –_ far too late how wrong he'd gotten it. How wrong he had gotten this boy who should have been his son – who he should have _taken_ as his son from the start – long, long before he had finally admitted and realised he already had in Dumbledore's office.

Harry had a strength and a kindness and an ability to love and forgive that was so foreign to Severus that it floored him.

Severus should have been there for him.

He should have been there for _all_ of them – _before_ all of this – the very first time the Dark Lord had risen back from the dead and there had been the slightest _sniff_ of a threat to them – to Lily and to Harry – he should have just taken them and run.

Why hadn't they _run?_

Severus' shoulders shook as he drew in a breath, everything of him _aching_ with the intensity of it, the surge of remorse and of hopelessness and of _grief_. Anticipated grief of what would soon be lost – his son – if he and Regulus failed.

If they couldn't find some way, _any_ way to save him.

This boy who looked at him – eyes so full of hope and desperation and vulnerability and _love_ – could not be lost.

He could not be.

A small sound, a 'ting' broke through his grief, and he lowered his trembling hands, slightly, just to peer above his fingertips at the enchantment upon the dials on the wall, telling him one of his Slytherins was out of the dorms past curfew.

Severus closed his eyes, only realising then that his cheeks were wet, so he swiped at them and attempted to pull himself together.

He was tempted to just leave them, whoever it was, and let Filch deal with it – he would surely catch them, soon enough – but he vaguely remembered it was his night to patrol and if word of the fact he had _skipped_ it got out he'd be hauled before Dumbledore.

And he could not deal with Dumbledore right now.

Severus got to his feet, drawing in a steadying breath, and closed his eyes. To count to ten, as some suggested, seemed rather preposterous – as if doing so would help matters – but he kept his eyes closed and called upon any and all sense of calm that he possibly could.

And, within a few moments, he pushed it all back and away, straightened down his robes, and strode from his office to locate the culprit.

Severus made a half-hearted search throughout the dungeons floor, coming across some prefects who assured him they had seen no one and he carried on, going up a level using Slughorn's staircase – his mind still entirely on Harry and the war and the blasted horcrux within him – while his frustration grew with each minute that passed, each floor of the Castle he checked, until one of the portraits in the corridors suggested he try the uppermost floors and he found himself on the seventh.

Severus passed Flitwick's office, forgoing a search down the Fat Lady's corridor, doubting any Slytherin students of his House would be hanging around the Gryffindor Tower.

The thought gave him pause, a certain Miss Greengrass coming to mind, but he doubted Harry would be feeling in any mood for company – even from the young lady who had taken his fancy – for he had still been visibly shaken when he'd eventually left Severus' office – and Severus carried on, making his way down the Hall of Hexes, until he reached the corridor with the Barnabus the Barmy tapestry.

The corridor of the fabled Room of Requirement.

He was just about to go down it, turning the corner leading through, when he – _at last_ – ran into the person he had been looking for.

Severus lifted his chin.

"Draco."

Of course.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Draco eyed him, looking only slightly cowed to be caught in the corridors after curfew; "Professor."

Severus crossed his arms; "Dare I ask what you are doing _roaming_ the corridors in the dead of night?"

"You know what I'm doing," Draco said, fearlessly, eyes staring defiantly right back at him; "You've been on my back about it all month."

"Ah. Apparently we are not concealing our intents behind pleasantries, this evening," Severus drawled, his heart not entirely in this conversation – his mind and heart still upon the boy who'd broken down in his arms only a few hours prior – but he had been hoping for this opportunity of candidness with Draco for _weeks_ , now; "Perhaps this is something you'd like to discuss in my office?"

"No. I _wouldn't_."

"Well, we certainly cannot do so here, out in the very open, can we?"

"I'm not interested in any 'help' you try to give me," Draco snapped, glowering at him, saying the word 'help' with all the scepticism in the world; "You think I don't know what you're doing? I'm not a _fool_."

"Oh? Do enlighten me, Draco. What _am_ I doing?"

"You're trying to make me lose my nerve – pretend you're on my side – so you can swoop in and off the old man yourself," Draco said, voicing the most ludicrous scenario imaginable, before the boy shook his head; "Well I won't fall for it. I'm strong enough. I can do it."

"I quite believe you mistake my motives."

"I don't think I do," Draco lifted his chin, eyeing him insolently; "You're one of the smartest ones there is at this. I've seen you with him you know. Potter. I know what you're doing. You and Potter, almost every night, in your office. All those 'detentions' the two of you have been having."

Severus felt a wave of unease, his blood going cold at the accusation, and called back upon his calm as he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded, smirking, thinking he had him – maybe he did – before he went on; "You're trying to get him close. Trying to make him trust you. Then, when the time is right, once you've got me and him both fooled, you're going to off Dumbledore yourself and Potter along with him. Kill them both and take all the glory."

Severus simply stared back at him.

Not sure if he was more amused or dumfounded at how wrong Draco had it, at the preposterous accusations laid at his feet.

Though he certainly was _relieved._

Severus smirked.

"Mr Malfoy –"

"Why wait, huh? Leave the old man to me. And you –" Draco shoved passed him; "- just bloody kill Potter _now_ and put the rest of us out of our misery!"

Severus grasped Draco tightly by the arm, pulling him close, nose to nose, and preventing his escape, suddenly overcome with by a surge of white fury.

Draco shied back from him them – the first sign of alarm he'd given – and Severus lifted his chin, eyeing him down his nose.

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy," he said softly; "Every Friday morning from now until the end of term."

"You can't do that."

"Try me," Severus narrowed his eyes at him, holding the look – the challenge – for a moment before he released his arm and Draco stumbled back; "Return to your dorm room. _At once_."

Draco glowered back at him – though with far less self-assurance than he had done at the beginning of their encounter – and then he walked by him and made his way to the staircase that led down back down to the dungeons, Severus following closely on his heels.

* * *

"Hey sleepy head."

A murmured voice, full of affection, and a gentle shake of his shoulder had Regulus wake with a snort.

It took a moment for him to gather his bearings – to make sense where he was – and when he did, he realised he was still in his office at the Foundation – had fallen asleep at his desk, which was littered with books and parchments and various bits and pieces of old research he'd gathered about horcruxes – and his eyes went to the timepiece.

It was well past midnight.

Regulus met Julia's eyes, blearily sheepish.

"I'm sorry. I … I must of –"

"So, I noticed," Julia said, giving him a smile – no real hint of annoyance in her eyes – as she stepped closer, slid an arm around his shoulders and took a seat on his lap.

Regulus immediately curled his arms around her, drawing her close and pressing a kiss to her cheek, murmuring in her ear; "Feels like I haven't seen you all week."

"Well, that's 'cause you haven't, Scholar –" Julia grinned, touching her forehead to his; " – you expecting an award for this one, or something?"

Regulus got a little smile, shaking his head; "Even if I were up for one, I wouldn't get it for this. It's … a dead end."

Regulus feared – with each passing day – that it actually was.

That this soul fragment within Harry would never be removed. That it would just fester, corrupt him further, until…

Regulus buried his face into Julia's shoulder, hugging her tight, and pushed away the unwelcome thoughts; determined he would not give in to _that._

To pessimism and hopelessness.

"Well. Whatever it is, it's not worth killing yourself over, Regulus."

Regulus got a little smile, tightening his grip of her, and pressing a kiss to her neck. Quite content to just sit there and hold his wife for the rest of the night.

"Huh. What's a horcrux?"

Regulus frowned and drew back at Julia's unwelcome question, noticing her eyes upon one of the parchments on his desk, before she reached for and began to lift it.

Regulus placed his hand over hers, stopping her, and reached up, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her, slowly – a vague attempt to distract her, even if he obviously quite enjoyed it – and when he drew back he touched his forehead to hers and touched a hand to his wand, tidying up the mess.

Sending it all out of sight.

"Nothing for you to worry about."

Julia's eyes were upon him, now, and there was obvious concern, then, as well as her affection; "But _you're_ worried about it, right? You look knackered, Regulus."

"Well, you _did_ just wake me from my nap."

Julia got a small smile – humouring his attempt – and she reached up, stroking the hair back from his forehead, tenderly, before she got to her feet.

"Come on –" she held out a hand and he took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet; " – _bed._ And this lot can forget it if they think you'll be back in here first thing tomorrow."

Regulus chuckled – he had to admit, really quite _enjoyed_ this fussing of hers – as she drew him towards the door, with the clear intention that he was going home, that instant.

"Have I told you, Mrs. Black –" he said, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist as they continued to walk – somewhat awkwardly, now – to the door; " – that I am _exceedingly_ enjoying having a wife."

"Oh, is that right?"

"Oh, _indeed_ ," he pressed another kiss to her cheek, before he reached to pull open the door, so they could step out; "In fact, just a few weeks in, I've decided that you and I were entirely _made_ for one another –" he shut the door behind them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders once they were in the corridor, drawing her close once more; " – I could get used to this."

Julia got a little grin.

A pretty cheeky one, come to think of it.

"Don't get too comfy yet, Black."

* * *

The annual Halloween Feast went ahead as normal, though the Halloween decorations were a bit more extravagant than in previous years – the usual live bats hanging and flying throughout the room – and there was heightened anticipation in the air, this time, for the festivities due to follow once it was over.

It seemed a bit odd, Malachi thought, that neither he nor Harry had eaten with their own dates for the night – for everyone had been sent to their own House tables – but, before long, Dumbledore stood with a smile, urging everyone else to do the same.

Malachi cast Daphne a smile, that she returned, before her eyes glanced across the Hall – obviously seeking Harry – and his best friend caught Malachi's eyes first, giving him a nod, before Harry's expression softened when his eyes turned Daphne's way.

"And now that our bellies are full and our spirits are high –" Dumbledore said, addressing the room, with a wide smile; " – let us all enjoy the rest of this night, shall we?"

The Headmaster lifted his wand and with a swish and not a word, the tables and benches vanished from where they had been – benches now lining the walls as they did for the Duel Club – and the tables were arranged at the front of the room, alongside a stage, adorned with _more_ food and beverages as the candles dimmed.

Four people – the band, Malachi realised – made their way up the middle of the room to the – already set up – musical instruments on the newly-appeared stage.

"If everyone can take their partners for the opening dance –"

There was a scramble and the Hall was filled once more with the sound of excited voices and Harry was upon Malachi and Daphne within a few seconds, his arm wrapping around her without hesitation and drawing her close.

"Where's your date?" Harry grinned at him, before he glanced, pointedly, in the direction of some girls that were looking in Malachi's direction; "Better get her quick, the hawks have got their eye on you, mate."

Malachi smirked, eyes seeking Luna, and he saw her, then, only a few feet away standing with some Ravenclaws.

Malachi went up to her, a little bit nervous at approaching when she was actually with friends; "Hey."

Luna glanced at him, over her shoulder, before she got a smile and turned more to face him; "Malachi."

Malachi swallowed, giving her a smile in turn, and shrugged; "Did you…wanna dance?"

He was pretty sure she _didn't_ want to dance – that she had implied as much, at least that she didn't really care – but Malachi was pretty lost for words, otherwise, and he hadn't _really_ brought any books as he'd suggested they do, because the seemed a bit silly.

And it was expected, wasn't it, that they at least take part in the first dance, so they probably should.

So's the dance lesson wasn't a total waste.

Malachi found his mind racing, only stilling when Luna took his hand and gave him a nod and a smile, and he smiled back, before they headed in the direction of the dancefloor looking for Harry.

" …just a miserable git," Harry was finishing up saying, and Malachi followed his gaze across the Hall – seeing Draco standing in the corner, eyeing the four of them across the room – and Malachi frowned, turning back to Harry and Daphne.

"He's alright," Daphne said, not looking at Draco with nearly as much irritation as Harry was, before she gave Draco a smile and a nod, which only seemed to aggravate his cousin further and he turned away from them, heading from the hall.

"If you say so," Harry said, sounding entirely sceptical, as they watched him leave, before he gave Luna a smile, greeting her; "Hey, Luna."

"Hello –" Luna smiled, glancing between them; "Both of you. You've got a lot of people talking, you know."

Harry and Daphne shared smiling looks and a little chuckle, before casting a look around – as Malachi did, too – and, sure enough, eyes were upon the _forbidden_ coupling, and Harry rolled his eyes, drawing Daphne closer, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Places, everyone!" Professor McGonagall's voice called out, and the four of them – and the rest of the students wishing to dance – took their places.

"So –" Dumbledore gave another swish of his wand and the candles dimmed further, going out completely, and little beams of light from the ceiling lit the hall, instead, in time to the music as it began to play.

* * *

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself!" Harry had to raise his voice to be heard over the music, where he and Malachi were sitting on one of the benches at the side of the hall, Daphne and Luna having vanished for some girly or another reason a little while before.

"Not as much as you two," Malachi pointed out, with a smirk, eyeing the crowd, pointedly, making reference to the huge stir that Harry and Daphne were making.

Even the professors – who all had knowing looks and smiles for Malachi, these days, ever since he'd started openly writing his articles, Burbage and _McGonagall_ in particular – were not immune to having an opinion. Expressions of surprise on their faces, at the pairing of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Of _Harry Potter_ and a Slytherin, a bit like what he and Malachi had faced when he had first started at school, four years before. Though, of course, the professors leaned far more on the _favourable_ side of it than the students who seemed to take great offence.

Malachi noticed Professor McGonagall giving a little smile of approval, before raising her eyebrows at Severus, who – to Malachi's surprise – also looked amused, if a bit fondly exasperated at the way Harry was deliberately _flaunting_ it, hardly able to keep his hands off Daphne for the entire night.

"I meant, maybe you and Luna might _start_ enjoying yourselves, a bit like how Daphne and me are," Harry suggested, with a grin.

Malachi gave him a little smile back, but it brought on an unexpected feeling of unease, the suggestion, when Emma immediately came to mind. She often did, whenever he hung about in his dorm room, hands on the Walkman he looked forward to using when he went home at Christmas, or when he was writing his articles, or when other girls shot him flirty looks that reminded him of the sparkle in her eyes.

Malachi looked down with a little frown.

He _did_ like Luna, he was realising, but that was odd, surely. He wasn't really sure if he should.

Not yet.

"Oh, she's coming back –" Harry gave him a nudge and a grin – oblivious to Malachi's thoughts – and he got a frown when she arrived, alone; "Where's Daphne?"

"She's a bit upset, Harry," Luna told him, and Harry immediately looked concerned; "I offered to stay with her but I don't think she likes company when she's crying."

Harry quickly got to his feet, "Oh, I – um – I better go, I'll catch you –"

Harry let the sentence taper off, as he hastily headed for the exit of the Hall – obviously intending on going to the girls' bathroom to find her – leaving Malachi alone with Luna.

Malachi met her eyes and she took a seat beside him.

"I'm having a really lovely time, Malachi."

Malachi gave a nod, admitting; "Me too."

"Do you want to dance?" she asked him, her eyes on the dancefloor, that little dreamy look in her eyes; "It was a lot more fun than I was expecting. Dancing with you. I don't think I even really need the books that I brought for us."

Malachi got a smile, then, at that, eyes going down to his hands that hung off the ends of his knees where his arms where rested. And then he gave a nod and reached over, taking one of her hands in his, before he got to his feet, tugging her out to the dancefloor.

* * *

Harry lingered around the outside of the girls' bathroom – knowing Daphne was in there, after asking numbers of girls coming and going for confirmation – and it was a good fifteen minutes after he arrived before Daphne emerged, her eyes red and her face blotchy, making it obvious that what Luna had told him – that she'd been crying – was true.

Harry quickly grasped her hand, drawing her aside and away from the ears – but, unfortunately, not the nosey _eyes –_ of the students who lingered in the corridor.

"Hey," he said, softly, feeling his stomach tighten with upset, that _she_ was obviously hurting over something; "Hey, what's wrong?"

He reached up, a hand cupping her cheek.

Daphne just gave him a wry smile, but her eyes were on his shoes.

Harry stepped in closer, so their faces were close, and he spoke more quietly; "Did someone say something? About you and me? Was someone –"

Daphne shook her head, meeting his eyes, and Harry felt a little lurch – a skip of his heartbeat – at the sadness he could see in hers.

"No," she said, her voice barely even a whisper; "It's not us, Harry."

Harry stepped in, drawing her close and hugging her – unable to fight the sudden urge he felt to do so, to protect her and take away whatever it was that was causing her pain – and he murmured against her ear; "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Tori," she murmured, into his shoulder; "She…she loved this sort of stuff. Dancing and fooling around."

Oh.

Harry tightened his hold on her, knowing there was nothing he could say or do about that, to take away the grief she'd obviously been trying to push down at losing her sister.

He didn't know what to say, so he just held her, reaching up to stroke the back of her hair, the two of them standing like that for a little while – while he shot dark looks at any who dared to stare, this time – until she eventually drew back a little so that he could see her face, though he still held her close.

"I thought…I dunno," she shrugged, wiping away another stray tear that escaped and began to run down her cheek; "I thought that, with Mr. Black putting out Malachi's articles by himself now that…I dunno. Maybe they'd let Astoria go."

Harry gave a little nod, hand squeezing her arm.

Daphne rolled her eyes, glancing away; "It's been almost three weeks and still nothing. I keep thinking, what if they _can't_ let her go. What if she's…" her voice caught.

Daphne lowered her chin, her eyes squeezing shut, at the thought that her sister might not even be _alive_ right now. But, even then, if she _was,_ she was still bound to be suffering.

Harry drew her closer, again, so that Daphne could lean on him and she did. Letting him comfort her in the only way he knew how.

People were still staring whenever they passed – obviously the two of them sharing a moment like this was even more _intriguing_ to the masses than their happiness – and so, when Harry was growing tired of glaring and glowering at their passing classmates, he drew back enough to touch his forehead to hers.

"Come on. Let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Away from here," he said, with a shrug, and Daphne got a little smile through her tears and nodded, letting him take her hand and draw her away from the nosey eyes at the dance.

* * *

This was tedious.

Severus stood in the corner of the Great Hall – the _Dance_ Hall – chaperoning the frolicking students, that danced and sang and laughed and grasped at one another, amorously – _entirely inappropriately_ – throughout the room, and his eyes frequently wandered in the direction of the timepiece, lamenting at the slow passage of time.

His Godson caught his eye once again, drawing Severus' attention to where he was dancing with one of the girls in his year – Luna Lovegood – with a smile and a laugh and a brightening of his expression that, Severus had to admit, was heartening to see after all that Malachi had been through that year.

Severus' eyes went to the exit, where he had seen Harry pass through almost – no, a quick glance at the timepiece corrected him – _over an hour_ beforehand, becoming increasingly concerned that he had not reappeared.

That would not do.

Severus took the opportunity to investigate – to _leave –_ and made his way from the Hall, checking the nearby entrance hall and corridors, down the Tapestry corridor, without much luck.

Eventually, Severus found himself out of doors, walking along the pavement parallel to the courtyard – where other rogue students were scattered, getting much too _close_ by the various beams and behind the bushes – and Severus zapped the ground at their feet with harmless spells, chasing them back into the dance as he passed.

He was some way down, almost at the end of the stretch of the courtyard, where no other students were lingering, when he finally heard Daphne Greengrass' voice on the other side of one of the beams.

"…I mean, parents, that's what they're supposed to do, right?" the girl's voice was quiet with vulnerability, so that Severus could only just make out what she was saying; " – put their kids first, over anything else?"

There was a silence, before Harry's voice answered. Just as quiet. Just as vulnerable.

"Yeah. Yeah…I mean. Well. You would think."

"Sounds like you don't really believe it."

"No. I do. _I_ believe it. Just…my mum."

Severus hesitated then. That Harry was still hurt – that he had not quite made peace with what had happened the year before – was obvious to him, now, in light of what had transpired the evening before.

Nonetheless, it felt wrong – a breach of trust, almost – for him to be eavesdropping like this.

"Did she do something?" Daphne asked him, quietly, while Severus found himself still lingering, unable to help but overhear.

"Last year…I…um. I can't really talk about it."

"Oh."

"No, um –" Harry quickly said, his voice raising slightly above the close murmurs the two had been sharing; "- it's not that I don't want you to know. It's just…it's better for you that you don't. And. Well, it was ages ago now, anyway. I'm trying to forget about it."

"Doesn't sound like it's working."

"No. Not really," Harry said, and there were chuckles on the other side of the beam; "But…I'm not mad about it. Not anymore. Just…"

"Disappointed?"

"I dunno," Harry said, quietly; "Maybe. Just…sometimes I think maybe she'd of been better off if I was never…"

Severus frowned, a twist in his gut, entirely aware of what Harry was going to say.

He started to step out – to reveal himself – without really thinking what on Earth he was doing. And, when he did, he caught sight of the two of them.

Harry and Daphne were curled up together on the grass; one of Harry's hands tucked behind his head while the other gently stroked her hair, where Daphne's head was laid upon his chest.

"I'm sure that isn't true, Harry," Daphne said, lifting her head to meet Harry's eyes; "It couldn't be."

Severus couldn't see Harry's face, hidden from view behind where Daphne had lifted herself, and he immediately averted his eyes when the hand in the girl's hair drew her closer for a kiss.

Severus should stop this behaviour immediately.

To be lying in the grass together, unchaperoned, was questionable enough; never mind to actually be engaging in such…carnal behaviours. Entirely inappropriate for a child of his age.

Severus ignored the whisper in his mind that Harry was fifteen, as the two drew back with a giggle between them.

Severus eyed them, the closeness the two appeared to share, their gazes all for one another, oblivious to his – to anyone else's – presence, before Daphne said, quietly, sharing in Harry's vulnerability.

"I'm still mad. At my dad," Harry's hand came up, stroking her hair, as she went on; "I'll never forgive him. Even when Tori comes home, I think I'll hate him forever for doing this."

Harry used the hand still in her hair to draw her closer, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and holding her there as he murmured, "You don't hate anything."

"I hate _him_ …I think I do, Harry."

Harry pulled her closer, drawing her fully into his arms, and Severus lowered his eyes, and stepped away – against his better judgement – leaving the two of them to it.

Entirely aware that Harry just might actually _need_ this girl – the comfort the two were clearly providing one another – and he knew, well enough, the challenges the two were sure to face from their respective Housemates.

Of course, it was childish and _absurd_ to Severus, now, what he and Lily had had to endure while attempting to maintain a friendship that crossed the great house-divide – particularly in comparison to all they faced _presently_ – but he knew, that things quite possibly might have been different for both of them, had they two shown the same courage or, indeed, the maturity to just rise above it. To not care what their housemates thought of them or one another, rather than allow the influences of others to poison it; to stir doubt and insecurity.

Far easier said than done at fifteen.

It had taken years for Severus to stop seeking the good opinion – the approval and the respect – of people whom he did not even care for, himself.

But Harry was doing it now.

Harry – his child – could see _beyond_ what the world was telling him he ought to see. He knew who he valued, who he cared for, and who he loved, and he would fight for that, above all else, not allowing anyone else to make him feel any different.

Severus felt a swell of pride rise up within him – not that _he_ could take any credit for it, of course – as he made his way back to the Great Hall.

He was halted in his steps – a Patronus sweeping before him – and Dumbledore's shimmering, silvery phoenix remained suspended in the air before him – not a word spoken, for Severus knew what it meant – before it disappeared.

For a moment, Severus considered not answering the summons.

He needn't, anymore.

But he – unexpectedly – found himself growing concerned with each step taken, as he continued on his way towards the ballroom – that, perhaps, the curse in Dumbledore's hand had somehow broken free, and the old man was in sudden, life-threatening need of him – and Severus sighed, making a sharp turn in the direction of Dumbledore's office, when he was unable to push that concern aside.

* * *

Severus eyed the bottle of wine in his hand.

At the obvious marks left upon it – quite obviously tampered with – and gave the vapours a small – unnecessary – sniff, confirming both their suspicions.

Poison.

"A somewhat poor attempt at ending my life, wouldn't you say, Severus?" Dumbledore remarked, from where he sat opposite Severus – who had remained standing, upon seeing that Dumbledore was just _fine_ – on the other side of his desk; "It leads me to believe that – perhaps – young Draco Malfoy is not quite so lost to us. Indeed, this may just be the cry for help we were expecting."

"I have already spoken with Draco," Severus said, briskly, placing the bottle on Dumbledore's desk; "I would not be quite so sure of his reluctance."

"He is likely being cautious, knowing what he thinks he does of you. With time – and a little bit more understanding – the liking he previously had of you may just become a trust."

"Not unsimilar to the Boy Who Lived, then," Severus bit out, before going on; "I sincerely doubt that, Albus, Draco's present dislike extends to _all_ the Dark Lord's followers, I imagine, and unless I were to be willing to reveal my _own_ disloyalties he will reveal nothing."

"He needn't reveal anything," Dumbledore said, entirely calmly; "Simply to know he has someone to whom he can turn may just be enough to save him from a very dark path. We must –"

"We, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes softened, then, with an affection that was entirely unwelcome.

Severus glanced away, darkly, as his bitterness at the man before him rose once more.

"Severus, do please sit."

He shouldn't.

Severus' eyes met Dumbledore's.

But there was still so much he needed to know.

Severus drew in a breath, taking a seat opposite him.

"I think the time has come for us to speak openly. Not only about what you have learned but also, as you rightly stated, what I have known about for quite some time –"

Severus opened his mouth, almost in a snarl, as his fury at the horcrux surged up within him – as if Dumbledore, himself, were responsible for what had happened – but the old man went on, raising a hand.

" – I refer to your relationship with Harry. To your family, Severus. Not to the dreadful truth you have recently been made aware of."

"Now is the time to speak, is it?" Severus' lips twisted, humourlessly; "Unsurprising. Considering you are fearful that your best laid plans are now subject to ruin."

"As I have yet to have Harry's mother breaking down my door, I must presume you haven't seen fit to share the truth with her?"

Severus hesitated, lifting his chin. He had not.

He could not possibly. For how could he expect Lily to be able to bear it, when he could barely do so himself, struggling more and more with the truth, with each passing moment.

His silence was long enough for the fact to be confirmed and Dumbledore nodded.

"That is probably for the best –"

"It is by no means a signification of any obligation or loyalty to you, Albus," Severus ground out, jaw flexing; "I have just …"

His statement trailed off.

"I understand, my boy. Believe me, I do," Dumbledore said, with sympathy in his tone and warmth in his eyes, that Severus refused to soften beneath; "While it is entirely inappropriate for Headmaster to favour any one of his students, Harry, since his first year with us and I have the chance to know him, has always been one of those for whom I care for, deeply, though – of course – not quite so deeply as yourself. And I, too, have struggled with it. Ever since my suspicions first arose of it, upon the opening of the Chamber of Secrets in Harry's second year."

"Three years," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut; " _Three years,_ that is how long you have concealed your suspicions from me."

Severus dropped his hand, looking directly at the old man, now, in a challenge.

"You told me it is essential that Harry face the Dark Lord – that he is killed by him – himself. _Why_?"

Dumbledore kept his eyes upon him, seeming to think on it, the answer. But then his eyes lowered. Not answering the question.

"Contrary to what you have accused me of, it has never been my intention to _use_ you, Severus, and to force you into the position that you find yourself in now. Certainly not to encourage you to develop a relationship with that family – your own family – to ensure that you would be in their circle of trust," Dumbledore shook his head, his expression almost pained with regret when he went on; "And, Severus, it has _never_ been my intention to cause you pain. You cannot, truly, believe that to be the case? That I do not regret that it has come to this."

"I find it very hard to know what to believe, Albus," Severus returned, unwilling to bend, to concede _anything,_ for Dumbledore's words only confirmed that he had quite obviously given up – had no hope whatsoever – that this was a circumstance that could be amended; "You refuse to reveal all to me – including matters which threaten the very lives of those whom you know I hold most dear – and yet you expect it all of me in return. And I have _given_ you that."

"Discretion in what is revealed is necessary, Severus. You know why that must be. The more people who know of it, the more dangerous the situation becomes. The more likely it is, that things will spiral out of control – you cannot have forgotten the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Though none were to blame, our inability to push aside our own instincts, to do what needed to be done, led to the very events that led to Harry being Marked."

Severus ground his teeth together, at the unwelcome truth; that Lily's instinct to protect Harry, at all costs – as his mother – had, indeed, set about those very chain of events. Or, rather, _he_ had done so, by seeking to clear his own conscience by revealing the prophecy to her in the first place.

Instincts, driven by love, that could not be avoided.

Dumbledore went on, more assertively; "It has never been a matter of trust, Severus. And, in this case, I knew the weight this information would have upon you. I had hoped to spare you – to spare Lily – from that, for as long as I were able."

"So long as it suits your ends, Albus."

"No, Severus," Dumbledore said, softly, shaking his head; "We have come a long way from where we once were. Indeed, you are entirely unrecognisable from the boy who came to me that night, all those years ago, and offered me everything in exchange for the protection of Lily Potter. Together, we have worked towards this common goal, not because it served either of us anything other than to do what we both know is right. What we must. A path you chose long before the events that took place leading to Harry's Marking. You chose to do so, to fight, for Neville Longbottom when we believed it to be him."

Severus lowered his eyes, as Dumbledore went on.

"It is a path that has not always easy. In fact, it rarely ever is, certainly not for you – I have seen what you have sacrificed – but we have done so, _you_ have done so, and I have been…I have been _moved_ by your devotion, Severus. Do not think that after all that you have done for me, for this cause, that I have not become fond of you, my boy. Because I assure you, I _have_. Just as much as I have for Harry. Even more so, perhaps. And I _do_ wish it were different. If there was any other way, be assured that I would take it."

Dumbledore drew in a breath, drawing Severus' eyes back to his, and Severus _could_ see it then. The remorse. The regret. He could see it, in the way the old man's eyes shimmered in the candlelight.

"But there is nothing else that can be done," Dumbledore said, quietly, before going on, speaking with certainty; "Voldemort _will not fall_ so long as Harry lives and that is something that we cannot allow – how could we live with ourselves, Severus, if we were to allow it. To allow thousands – t _housands –_ of others to suffer – indeed, to die – all to protect one. Even if he is one who we may love."

"One…my own _child_ , Albus. How could I live with myself, otherwise?"

Dumbledore nodded, slowly, before he lifted his hand – the blackened, withered hand of his, that Severus could see had worsened – before he said, reflectively; "Indeed, in some ways I think I may have it far easier."

Dumbledore met his eyes.

"I must ask you again, Severus."

"No."

"Even if you were not to do it for me. To spare me the pain of a most gruesome death that Tom has no doubt planned for me; one, perhaps, I entirely deserve –"

Severus glanced away.

" – you cannot deny that your position within his circle is critical. To both our ends, Severus, you need to be where you are. You need to be his most trusted. Irrevocably so. Even if we cannot agree of what must ultimately be done, I must ask you, _do not_ allow my death to be in vain. Do not allow your anger with me to prevent you from seeing that you and I are both now – and have always been – fighting for the same thing."

"I have been fighting for my family, Albus," Severus got to his feet; "And that _does not_ allow me to send my child to die."

He turned, ignoring Dumbledore's voice when it sounded behind him once more, and headed from the room.

* * *

Regulus finished off the last of what was left on his plate – glancing in the direction of the timepiece as he did – and got a frown, when he noticed it was almost ten and Julia still hadn't roused.

He'd wait a little longer.

Even if he _had_ indulged them both, by not going into the Foundation at all, the day before.

Regulus tossed aside the Prophet.

He had read enough of that doom and gloom for the day, the battles on the field raging ferociously, as both Voldemort and the Ministry picked up the pace.

Regulus reached into his robes opting, instead, for something a little more heartwarming – to him, at least, for it was somewhat serious material, itself – and pulled out the article that Malachi had sent to him earlier that week.

He got a little smile as he skimmed it, not for the first time. He'd re-read them all, repeatedly, since the day Severus had brought the first to his office.

This one was the fifth to be displayed and distributed by the Foundation – so far – with the promise of more to come.

A fact that Voldemort was none too pleased about, judging by the increasing numbers of individuals who were failing to satisfy the security checks coming into the building as well as the increasing number of post that was now failing to make it to his desk – a growing pile marked as _'suspicious'_ – and sent the Ministry's way, instead, for further investigation.

Regulus got a little smirk.

More than a little satisfied at Voldemort's aggravation.

Narcissa would have throttled him for this.

The thought wiped the smirk from his face in a flash, his eyes lowering.

_Provoking the Dark Lord at every turn._

He shook off the guilt that followed.

It was beyond time for this. To make a stand.

Regulus' eyes went to the bottom of the parchment he held – the sign off – where his son's name – Malachi R. Black – was boldly written and he got a proud smile once more, marveling – not for the first time – at how this remarkable boy could truly be _his_.

His son.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention from the article and his eyes met Julia's as she walked into the room.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, grinning and putting the article aside on the counter, before turned on the stool to face her; "Good morning, my love!"

Julia gave him a bleary smile, with a little chuckle and a look that belied her surprise at seeing him still home, before she covered a yawn with her hand, trying to speak round it.

"You're still here."

"I am that."

Regulus drew her into his arms as she reached him, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before giving a nod at the plate of – no doubt cold, by now – food he'd prepared for her; "Breakfast?"

He cast a warming charm, to heat it back up for her.

Julia eyed it, looking less than thrilled by the greasy offering – she looked a bit queasy, come to think of it – but she gave him another smile, obviously appreciating the effort; "Thank you."

"It is – in fact – tempting to not go in at all –" Regulus told her, eyes twinkling, " – after the wonderful time you showed me yesterday, Mrs. Black."

Julia chuckled and gave him a kiss.

"I'm glad you stayed."

"Oh?"

"Mhm."

She nodded, with an impish smile.

And then she bit her lip, looking at him, consideringly, and when he shot her one of his cheeky grins back, she chuckled.

" _Yes_. Listen –"

She took his hands in hers, giving them a squeeze, and Regulus immediately frowned, quickly realizing something was up.

"What's wrong?"

She gave him a reassuring smile – even if it _were_ a little uncertain – and said, "Nothing. It's just…"

Regulus felt a rise of uneasiness within him, suddenly becoming concerned.

Julia had been asleep every night he'd come home all week – sometimes even when he'd been home before nine – and, he now realized, slept _long_ into the mornings after he'd left for the Foundation. And with her reaction to the plate of food…

"Are you sick?" Regulus asked, worriedly, his eyes scanning her, quickly, for any visible signs of ailments.

"No," Julia said, immediately, putting that worry to rest; "I'm fine –"

She reached up, caressing his cheek, and – feeling reassured – he got another smile, just as she told him.

"I'm pregnant, Regulus."

Regulus simply stared at her.

Barely able to comprehend the words.

Pregnant.

She – _they_ – were pregnant.

Another child.

Another Black.

"Oh."

It came out more as a gasp – breathed out – than any sort of coherent response. His mind offering nothing coherent in that moment, other than a quick flash of thoughts and fears and memories, all in quick succession.

He drew in a breath.

Aware of Julia's eyes upon him, he tightened his hold on the hand he still held, even if he was still looking at nothing.

Regulus was sure his smile was gone.

In fact, yes, he was frowning, as he sat there, still struggling as he tried to make sense of what Julia had just said and all that it meant.

He pushed aside the logical – entirely _unwelcome_ – thoughts and worries that immediately tried to drown him and willed himself to focus on what mattered.

On this new life that he and Julia had created.

A baby.

Regulus had joked about this, some months before – at the time wishing it hadn't been a joke – that they'd have one. One of many, in fact.

Brushing it off – his own forbidden yearning for it – and insisting it would be for Malachi.

For his son who'd grown up, just they two. And while, true, neither had ever been lonely while the other was there, a sibling might just have brightened things up that little bit more.

At the very least, given his son someone to _commiserate_ with, when their dad did something particularly infuriating or embarrassing.

Regulus got a little smile, imagining it.

 _Easily_.

Malachi with a little brother or sister.

Despite it all – his father's sins – his son had grown into one of the most –

No.

 _The_ most incredible person that Regulus had ever known.

His own son.

Raised in shadows.

Shadows filled with joy and laughter and love.

Julia shifted where she stood, and Regulus met her gaze, seeing the concern that was in her eyes now, when his silence stretched.

Concern, believing she knew exactly what he must be thinking. How he was sure to just _spiral._

Maybe before – _certainly_ before – he would have.

Another child.

Regulus swallowed.

What had he done to deserve _that_?

He got to his feet before her, suddenly awash with an elation he barely knew how to deal with.

Julia's eyes were still on his and then he smiled, warmly, and touched his forehead to hers.

She shimmered in his vision.

"Oh," he whispered, before a little breath of a chuckle left him.

Julia's concern left her eyes, then – replaced with a little bit of surprise, a little bit of delight, rising with each second – before she got a slow smile for him in turn, a little laugh of her own, as they looked at one another.

And then Regulus drew in a breath – a feeling of amazement coming over him – and he released it with another little laugh and pulled her close.

The two of them holding on tight as they giggled, then, quietly.

Hushed murmurs shared between them.

Giddy with delight, in one another's arms.

* * *

"Ugh, there's people up there," Daphne told him, when Harry ran into her in the Tapestry Corridor, having been on his way to meet her in the Astronomy Tower.

Harry fought down his disappointment, having been looking forward to spending some time alone with her that morning. Especially after what had happened at the dance in the middle of the week.

And the next morning – Sunday – was another legillimency session and, after what had happened at the last one, he wasn't sure if he'd be in all that great a mood, afterwards.

Certainly not one conductive to getting all cuddled up with Daphne, as he was _more_ than keen to do.

But then, part of why he was so keen to do so, now, was because they _had_ done a bit more that just hold hands and kiss and make teasing jokes at one another.

They'd really _talked_ and, Harry found, he liked that just as much.

Daphne talking to him.

He guessed they could go and do that, now, by the lake where most of the rest of the school were out enjoying the Saturday afternoon.

Still, that didn't lessen the sting of disappointment that some other kids had gotten to their spot first that day.

"Oh," Harry said, in obvious disappointment, glancing around, trying to muster up some other alternative – somewhere they could be alone, _other_ than the lake – but the library really didn't seem all that appealing.

And Malachi would probably be in there, hiding up the back from the girls who were already trying to bag an invitation from him to the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, and so then it wouldn't become a date anymore just a _hang out._

Daphne started giggling, then, and Harry realized she found his visible disappointment highly amusing and he grinned, reaching for her hand, and pulled her close and just kissed her _there._

Daphne went with it – they weren't hiding anything from anyone – and ignored the odd stray student that passed them, eyeing them without shame.

But then, when she drew back and noticed that the corridor was empty except for the two of them, her smile turned impish and she grasped his hand and tugged him a little further up the corridor.

She stopped at what Harry recognized was the Potions Store Cupboard.

She lifted her wand, uttering an incantation under her breath, and Harry's eyes widened.

"How do you know Snape's password?"

"Prefect privilege, Potter," Daphne grinned at him over her shoulder, before she pushed the door open, grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him into the narrow space behind her.

Harry barely had a chance to think about whether or not this was a good idea, all good sense leaving him when Daphne turned to look at him with that coy little smile of hers, once he'd kicked the door shut behind him.

Harry immediately stepped in further, closing the tiny distance between them, with a little smile of his own, before he claimed her lips with his.

Daphne's hands went up, tangling in his hair – something she'd never done before – pulling him in closer, and he liked that _a lot_.

He'd always been very careful to be _considerate,_ as his Uncle Remus had once said to him, a couple of years ago – obviously put up to it by his Mum – and he'd had no idea what that meant at the time but now, he guessed, it just meant let the girl take the lead.

And Harry was more than happy to follow in this case.

Daphne had always been _way_ better at this than him – obviously he wasn't the first guy she'd kissed, a thought that made him feel irrationally jealous – and, this time, things started to get heated really, really fast.

He guessed it was how dark it was in the cupboard – how _daring,_ even, to be sneaking in here for this – and because he liked her so much more, _today_ , than he had just a few days before after how she'd cried upon him and told him the hurt she was feeling. Offering comfort, to him, in return, when he'd finally spoken, for the first time to anyone other than Malachi about what had happened.

Daphne made a sound – a breathy little moan – against his lips and Harry felt an odd jolt of _something_ within him when he heard it – the first time he ever had – and he instinctively moved his lips more insistently against hers while he bumped up against her, trying to get closer – abandoning _all_ thoughts of being considerate – and Daphne giggled, making him chuckle too, the two of them laughing against one another's lips.

When she didn't object to him being pressed so close, he pressed in even more – returning to the kissing – and she stumbled back – by accident – and he went with her.

He heard a little smash – a jar being knocked down behind her – when they bumped into the shelf. Another smash followed. And then another.

Harry ignored them – enjoying this far too much to be bothered about some old potions ingredients – and he felt a little bit braver, his hands inching slightly higher on her waist, emboldened by her hands tightening in his hair.

The cupboard door suddenly swung open with a bang, light flooding into the room.

Harry and Daphne sprung apart.

It took a moment for Harry's brain to get back into gear. For him to catch his breath. To make sense of what had happened and realise _who_ had interrupted them.

Well.

_Who else?_

"Mr. Potter."

Harry had never seen Snape look so shocked – his jaw almost slack, as he regarded them – and it would have been funny, normally, if Harry were not so mortified.

Harry felt a little bubble of nervous laughter rise up, caught in a little snort, that he only just managed to suppress.

But Daphne heard it – getting a little twitch of a smile – and Snape did too – his eyes narrowing – before the man turned away.

Turned his whole body, in fact, so that it faced the doorframe.

"Miss Greengrass. Return to your dormitory."

Daphne looked surprised – Snape was _her_ Head of House, after all, and obviously the one of the two who'd known the password for the cupboard – but, knowing _Professor Snape_ was not one to be messed with, she gave Harry an apologetic grin, before she headed from the cupboard.

Harry quickly made to follow.

A hand grasped him by the shoulder as he tried to pass.

"Not so hasty, Mr. Potter."

Harry reluctantly turned, meeting Snape's gaze, neither of them speaking until Daphne had left the corridor and they were alone.

Even then, Snape remained silent – eyeing him – with far more awkwardness than Harry felt, and he almost grinned, at how the tables had turned.

Snape deserved it after what Harry had seen in the summer, he thought, fighting a snicker.

"Mr. Potter…so help me."

Snape's eyes lifted to the ceiling.

Harry jaw dropped, slightly.

Wait.

Was Snape about to give him… _the talk?_

Harry blushed, furiously, regretting his previous thought, instantly.

He _did not_ want to have this talk.

Snape cleared his throat, meeting Harry's newly mortified gaze, and going on more confidently, when he noticed Harry's horror.

"There is a certain manner in which a young man must conduct himself when engaging with members of the opposite sex."

Harry's eyebrows lowered. Past his horror, he wondered why Snape always sniped at _him_ for quoting from textbooks.

"Do you think that this is an appropriate manner in which to conduct oneself?"

 _Please discuss_ , Harry's mind added, almost making him snicker.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"We were just kissing. We weren't about to –"

"I should certainly hope not," Snape interrupted him, nostrils flaring at the implication; "There is a time – many years from now – and a place for such engagements, Harry, and I should hope it goes without saying that that place will _not_ be in my cupboard."

Harry pursed his lips together, fighting a smirk.

"Noted, Sir."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Dismissed."

Harry bolted.

* * *

Lily gave a smile to the other two on the main team – Quinton Gold and Mortimer Littlewood – as she headed into the lab at the Foundation.

They were into the second week, now, of Project Gryffith with most of the background reading done and dusted.

Or so she'd thought.

"What's Goodwin got?" Lily asked when Heart indicated the new pile of parchments that had been gathered and dropped off that morning.

"Oh, far more than we do –" Heart answered, scribbling notes in the margins; " – it does confirm our suspicions that a soul, torn apart by a grave misdeed, will find itself anchored to the living world by a fragment – generally, a single fragment is all that will break off – and prevent the being from moving on to the afterlife. A fate worse than death, as our previous research indicated. Quite odd, actually, that this new information happened to turn up. Someone must have been looking into it, recently."

Lily nodded – figuring that was the case – as she lifted the parchment Cornelia had pointed to.

"How does it anchor without an object readied to sustain it?"

The four of them knew of the name of said objects – horcruxes – but none were ever willing to speak the word aloud.

And none other than Lily knew of Voldemort's collection; that he had even made any at all.

"Without such a vessel," Heart explained, " – the fragment will bind to strongest living being in the room."

Lily frowned.

"Such as?"

"Oh, anything –" Heart said, lightly, with a nod at the parchment Lily held; "Could be a mouse, a common house fly, a cat. It will bind to the strongest, to ensure a more enduring lifespan. The more meagre the available vessel – a mouse, for instance – the shorter the time the soul will be anchored."

"And then they move on? Once the fragments are reunited in death?"

Cornelia got a wry smile then, shaking her head.

"It seems as if – once the soul shatters – there is no afterlife awaiting them. The fragments – including the whole – will simply disintegrate into nothing. Though, I gather by the end of their time being anchored to the in between, even nothingness would be a blessing."

Lily gave a slow nod, glancing away at the grim prediction.

"Oh, I'm sure."

And then she gave Cornelia a smile and pulled out the stool, getting to work reading the new parchments that had been sent down by Regulus.

* * *

Severus' lips twitched as his most recent encounter with Harry came to mind.

Amused, now, that some days had passed.

Though he was still by no means _impressed_ with him, after finding Harry and Daphne Greengrass in such a state – in his _Potions Cupboard_ , no less – and even _less_ impressed by the damages caused by their obviously _heated_ embrace, a number of broken jars of ingredients left behind in their wake.

Severus had intended on issuing out a punishment for that – some further detentions – but he had refrained, as he was certain that Harry had very few free hours available to him to even squeeze in a detention, the boy's schedule so packed full with the Duel Club, extra Defence lessons with Lupin and their new Legillimency sessions.

The latter of which he'd had to reluctantly cancel a few days before, following a particularly outrageous _prank_ pulled by a group of his audacious seventh years, which had kept him occupied the entire day, dealing first with _those_ damages and then writing letters to all the soon-to-be-outraged parents of the children involved.

Children, they would be the _death_ of him, Severus was sure of it.

He glanced to the side, eyeing Regulus where he stood – who had been peculiarly quiet, ever since Severus had arrived in his office to continue with their investigation – and, when he did, he noticed a little smile on his friend's face as his eyes skimmed the parchment.

"Something amusing, dare I ask?"

Regulus' eyes lifted, meeting Severus', holding his look for a moment, before he got another smile and simply went back to reading.

It was over an hour later – with only a few odd sentences spoken between them – that Regulus finally revealed the source of his contentment.

"Julia's pregnant."

Severus looked at Regulus sharply, at the lightly spoken statement.

Regulus didn't look up from what he was reading, but – by the way his eyes moved across the parchments he held – Severus could tell he was not really reading.

Severus got a frown, at the obvious undesirable circumstance.

"I see."

Regulus glanced at him, extremely briefly, out the corner of his eye, before he shifted and drew in a breath, saying nothing more. And, for a moment, Severus thought he actually looked irritated.

So, he tried:

"Congratulations."

Regulus smiled – a little bit wry – and met Severus' eyes.

"Well. What's another child in the middle of an apocalypse, am I right?"

Severus lips twitched in a small smile, then – easily seeing Regulus' heart wasn't behind the statement – and said again, more sincerely; "Congratulations, Regulus."

Regulus' smile turned genuine in turn, a little bit smaller, as he lowered his eyes.

And then he cleared his throat, stepping around the back of Severus as he said; "It is selfish of me? To be so glad about it."

Regulus reappeared at his other side, not meeting Severus' eyes and, instead, he reached back into the box that was upon his desk.

"My first turned out rather well, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed. You've done well with him, Regulus."

Regulus eyes narrowed, slightly, as his movements stilled. And then he drew in a breath.

"Hm – despite what people may think of my son and I and the jolly mischief the two of us get up to – you and I both know the truth of it," he said, quietly, his tone laced with bitter regret when he went on; "That I wouldn't even _know_ my son, had he not been forced upon me against my will when his mother died."

Severus said nothing to that.

He remembered, of course, and he knew it was an unwelcome truth – a fact – that Regulus struggled with, even to this day.

Severus never spoke of it. Neither of them did. Not anymore.

Not since Regulus had embraced it – fatherhood – and had admitted, when drink loosened his tongue, that life without his son would be entirely unworthy of living.

Regulus turned his head slightly in Severus' direction – not meeting his eyes and the rest of him still turned away from him – when he asked.

"Do you think he remembers? Malachi?"

Severus eyed him. Easily sensing the self-loathing that was lingering there, beneath the surface, ever so close to making itself known.

Malachi had been six when he and Regulus had gone on the run.

Of course, he remembered what had come before that.

"I think your son has grown into an admirable young man of whom you should be proud. And I am entirely convinced, that that is a sentiment your son would turn upon yourself, knowing _all_ that he does of you."

Malachi adored his father.

No doubt in either of their minds about that.

Regulus gave a slow nod, eyes on the items before him, knowing it was the truth.

Anyone who had seen them together – Regulus Black and his son – could see their devotion to one another. A camaraderie and a deep affection neither ever tried to conceal whenever they were in one another's company.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut.

"I did wrong by him, Severus."

There was such remorse in the statement that Severus almost – almost – reached out. But he didn't – didn't have the chance – because Regulus suddenly composed himself.

His friend drew in a breath, that he released in a quick exhale, as he said, assertively.

"Well. Not _this_ child."

Severus got a slight smile.

Another little flicker of pride felt by him, just as it had the day Regulus had first spoken the Dark Lord's name some weeks before, throwing his weight behind his son and his articles.

Regulus lifted out some more parchments from the box before him, before he went on, changing the subject with a shake of his head.

"These are all dead ends, Severus."

Severus took the parchments from him; "There will be something."

"I want to pull the Research Department in," Regulus told him, turning to face him.

Severus stared at him.

"Are you _mad_ –"

"Obviously, we won't tell them _why._ But they are working on exactly this right now."

"You're referring to Project Gryffith," Severus crossed his arms, eyes narrowing; "Lily is on that project."

Regulus nodded, with a frown; "Well, _yes_. Isn't this why she proposed it?"

Severus lifted his chin, before he averted his eyes.

Regulus' eyes widened, slightly.

"Oh – she doesn't …"

Regulus glanced away, clearing his throat.

"Lily doesn't know?"

Severus could tell by the tone that Regulus had attempted to keep any judgement from his tone when he said it – but he picked up on it all the same, his underlying disapproval – and Severus shook his head.

"Tell Lily that all that we have fought and suffered has been for nothing but further loss – the loss of her own child – and that the hope we have built our entire future upon will soon amount to nothing. Putting our children through hell for … No, Regulus. I have not told her that. How could I?"

Regulus gave a slight nod, with an expression of sympathy, but he went on, regardless.

"Lily hunted horcruxes with me," Regulus reminded him; "Everything I've been giving you – Lily already _knows_. We need her. We need _them –_ we have some of the best minds in the field downstairs, working on precisely the issue at hand. And time is of –"

Severus shook his head and Regulus cut off in what he was saying.

Severus was still unable to bear it, himself, the burden only increasing in weight with each passing day that no solution could be found.

"Wars are not fought by single men," Regulus eventually went on; "You and I have said that countless times."

"Do you think she'd thank me for it, Regulus?" Severus raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting in a grimace, belying his own grief, "For telling her – now, when there is still no hope of an alternative – that when the times comes, her son must die? That we can find no way to save him from neither _death_ nor from the _corruption_ of the Dark Lord's soul within him?"

"I –" Regulus shook his head, glancing away, knowing – Severus could see – that there was no _good_ answer, here; "I don't think she'd thank you either way. But I know that if it were Malachi…" he met Severus' eyes, "We need everyone on this. And you're wrong when you're saying that there isn't hope. We're not giving up. _Lily_ would never give up."

Severus shook his head, making to protest.

But he knew, now, that to argue the point – his fear – was fruitless.

Perhaps it always had been.

Perhaps that was all it had ever been. His _own_ fear and pain.

The idea that Lily – who would fight until her last _breath_ for each and every person that she loved – couldn't handle this…

"He's her son, Severus," Regulus went on, quietly, "She could _help_ him. You have to tell her."

Severus lowered his eyes.

Knowing – all along – that it was true.

* * *

The mattress dipping behind her made Julia stir.

She glanced over her shoulder, knowing it was still early – barely even ten, but she'd been unable to keep her eyes from drifting – and Regulus gave her a small smile when their eyes met, as he settled down behind her, clearly intending on joining her well before his usual bedtime.

Regulus' arm slid around her waist and drew her close, tucking her up against him, with her back to him.

"Early bed for you," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep, "You just in?"

"Mhm, did I wake you?"

He perched his chin on her shoulder, lifting his eyebrows, in a cheeky wiggle, and she shot him a grin.

Regulus chuckled, touching his lips to her shoulder, before asking – _fussing_ , as he'd taken to doing these past few days – "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm pregnant, not incapacitated, Black," she chuckled, rolling her eyes, before feeling his lips press to her cheek and then his nose nuzzling into the spot behind her ear.

"Anything my lady wants, my lady gets," he said, teasingly, before his lips pressed another kiss, this time to her neck; her husband having become increasingly affectionate – even more so than usual – in addition to his clucking around her, ever since he'd learned that they would soon be hearing the pitter patter of tiny feet on their floorboards.

Julia felt his fingers trail circles against her abdomen.

"Could do with a yacht, now you mention it."

" _Done_."

Regulus' hand moved downwards, fingers tugging at the hem and pulling up her nightgown, and then she felt his fingers go back to her stomach, stroking the skin with reverence, before his palm splayed against her – there when their child grew – his thumb continuing to slowly stroke back and forth.

Julia felt herself smiling.

She was still surprised – pleasantly so – days later, at how well he had taken it. At how awestruck and overjoyed Regulus had been by the news that she'd been half-convinced would send him _running_.

Julia glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Feel something?"

Regulus gave her a smile.

A smile full of adoration before he nodded and moved in closer.

He pressed his lips to her ear, before speaking softly against it in a murmur.

"Hope."

And then the hand upon her stomach reached up, cupping her by the cheek, and he turned her head, claiming her lips with his.

Kissing her deeply.

Making her breathless.

Before she turned and they reached for one another.

* * *

Draco crept deeper into the Room of Requirement.

He knew – already – that it had worked.

That his father had done it. The instructions he had provided Draco with the previous month had been flawless. Precise.

No room for error.

The sound of animated chirping was so loud that Draco could hear it all the way from the other side of the room when he'd stepped through the door.

He paused in his steps when he saw it – a feeling of unease rising within him – before he slowly made his way over to it.

To the Vanishing Cabinet.

He took a hold of the handle when he reached it, hesitating – foolishly, as if that might make the tweeting stop - before slowly pulling it open, and the little bird didn't wait until it was more than a crack, before it came flying out – fit as a fiddle – and making Draco jump back – crashing into and almost stumbling over all the junk behind him – as the creature soared higher up in the room, chirping away.

Entirely well and in one piece.

It had worked.

A birdsong touting their success.

Draco felt sickened rather than satisfied by it, as his eyes followed the singing bird that flew overhead, knowing what this meant.

_It had worked._

He swallowed, eyes lowering, before glancing back at the Vanishing Cabinet.

The cabinet through which he and has father had now created a doorway between Hogwarts and Borgin and Burkes.


	78. November 1995: Nothing But The Truth

"What do you think she'd like?" Harry asked Malachi, as they tucked into their breakfast at the Gryffindor table.

"You'd know better than me, Harry," Malachi chuckled at Harry's imploration that he give him some suggestions for what to get Daphne for her birthday the following month.

"I dunno, you've been friends with her longer," Harry pointed out, as Malachi gave a polite, shy smile to the third-year-girl – Amber – that caught his eye across the table, and nudged him; "Isn't there a book or something she wants? You talk about books and stuff, all the time."

"A book? Didn't you want to give her a boyfriend gift?"

"A _boyfriend_ gift?"

"Yeah. Like flowers. Or perfume. Or a ring."

Harry frowned, wondering if that was the appropriate 'etiquette'.

Where would he even get flowers, he wondered, as all the flowers on the grounds were almost all dead, now, with the coming of winter. He'd have to transfigure them or something.

Perfume. No.

He didn't want Daphne's nice smell being ruined by the scent of old lady musk fumes that he sometimes caught a whiff of on Professor Sprout.

A ring.

That seemed a bit over the top.

And usually that meant a promise of marriage or something, which was even _more_ over the top, even though he _had_ heard about some sixth and seventh years doing that. Giving one another 'promise' rings or 'pre-engagement' rings, as they were called, which seemed somewhat redundant to him and would spoil the surprise of the real thing.

It had taken Mr. Black almost a decade to give Julia one.

And, as far as he could tell, his mum didn't wear a ring at all, so Snape obviously hadn't done so, either.

But then, his mum and Snape weren't exactly a _normal_ example of a couple. And he doubted Snape would be much good at giving him advice on this.

His mum probably considered a smile a good gift from Snape.

Harry's eyes went in the direction of the Professors' table, to where the man sat, eating his breakfast, not engaging in conversation with any of the other professors who surrounded him.

Nothing much unusual about that.

They'd passed one another in the Tapestry Corridor that morning, already – Harry and Snape – a few feet from the potion's cupboard, and Snape had simply raised an eyebrow at him as he passed while Harry grinned, wiggling his own eyebrows as he glanced at the cupboard door, before Snape rolled his eyes at how much Harry didn't care that he had caught him with Daphne.

Snape would just have to get used to it.

Harry fully intended on having her at the house, as soon as he could, and there'd be no silly 'Professor Snape' rules to stop him, once Snape finally came home and saw them together.

There was a stir in the Great Hall as the owl post swept in for the day, dropping their letters in front of the no-longer-so-eager waiting students.

There were murmurs and gasps and even some sobs, as a larger number of students than usual – more than a dozen, that morning – got to their feet and left the room. To mourn their loss and to go to their Head of House to arrange immediate contact with their families.

Snape got up, too, obviously to deal with it. As well as Professor McGonagall and the other two Heads of Houses – all of them returning to their offices.

Harry's eyes went to his Uncle Remus, then, who hadn't stood to leave – he didn't need to, not having the responsibility of a whole House full of students – but Harry noticed, getting a frown as he did, that there was a letter that had come for him, too, and he was reading it, slowly, with a look of obvious distress at whatever had been written.

After a few moments, Remus got to his feet, and headed from the room.

Harry's eyes followed him all the way, trying – unsuccessfully – to catch his gaze.

The rest of the meal was spent under a cloud of somberness, as quiet voices continued to murmur on, until, finally, the truth reached them, Ron and Hermione moving down to table to join them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked them, with a frown.

"Huge defeat on our side, up by Arthur Creek," Ron told him, quietly, sharing a look with Hermione; "A whole village wiped out, and almost another two nearby before the aurors got there. Death Eaters attacked through the night."

Harry swallowed, digesting the information, eyes going to the door where Remus had left.

Tonks was an auror.

"Hi, Malachi."

All four of them turned.

Irena Maloney – one of the fourth year Ravenclaws – was standing there, and she got a blush, giving them all a nervous smile, before focusing on Malachi.

"Um. I was just wondering if you already had someone to go with for the Hogsmeade visit?"

Malachi looked a little surprised – though he _shouldn't_ have, as girls had been fluttering their eyelashes at him all week – and shook his head; "Oh. I'm not sure –"

Maloney got a smile, eyes lighting up, before she gave a bashful shrug; "Yeah, I thought I'd ask early, this time. I'd really like to talk to you. About your writing."

Malachi's eyes drifted a bit, in the direction of the Ravenclaw table at the other side of the hall, before he drew in a breath, and met Maloney's eyes.

He gave her a smile, nodding; "Yeah. Yeah, sure. I…I'll get you in the entrance lobby."

Maloney smiled, evidently delighted.

"Can't wait."

"Irena Maloney – nice one, Mate," Ron said, congratulating Malachi's choice of partner, only to receive an elbow in the ribs from Hermione, "Ow! What was that for?"

Hermione ignored him, rolling his eyes, before she smiled at Malachi.

"Did you mean what you said? That you'd be willing to live by a new rule of magical law – to keep it even – but that allowed us to be open and share _our_ knowledge if it would grant wizards the chance to advance theirs, that's only available in the muggle world?"

"Say what?" Ron looked confused.

"Muggles have universities, higher level programs in a wider range of fields," Hermione explained, "The latest article discussed how we were preventing ourselves from expanding our own awareness about the world and life and science –"

"Science?"

"It's –" Hermione shook her head, giving a shrug; "A bit like potions and arithmancy, combined. But…"

"Better," Malachi offered.

"Yeah," Hermione said, "Not that I know much about muggle science, anymore, of course. But my parents are dentists, and it is something they get extremely excited about."

"Arithmancy and Potions. Bloody hell, sounds boring," Ron remarked, earning a look from Hermione.

Harry got to his feet, his mind still on Remus, "Catch you later, alright?"

He headed off – giving a nod at their mutters of farewell – as they carried on with their discussion of Malachi's articles, and he went to the Defence classroom first.

It was empty and so was the office a little further up the corridor.

So – realizing that something must _really_ be wrong – Harry hurried on to the other side of the Castle, making his way to his Uncle Remus' chambers. He knocked on the door when he finally reached it – more of a bang – before he pushed it open and headed in.

Remus was sitting at the counter of the kitchenette, head in his hands, but it quickly lifted at Harry's entrance.

"Harry."

His Uncle Remus tried to smile, to conceal his obvious upset – but he was never good at that sort of stuff – so Harry quickly headed over to him.

"Are you alright? Is it –" he hesitated, as he reached him, " – was Tonks there?"

Remus swallowed, glancing away for a second, before he gave Harry a smile and a nod, rubbing his arm.

"Yes, she was. She's…she's in St Mungo's," he cleared his throat, obviously trying to be optimistic when he added, "I'm afraid, there's not much else to tell, at the moment – no news is good news, I suppose - she's in good hands –"

Harry hugged him, not fooled by the attempt, and Remus released a small breath – a little like a laugh – and hugged him back.

"Thank you, Harry," he whispered against his shoulder.

Harry just smiled, hugging him a bit tighter, before he let him go.

"Hot chocolate?"

Remus didn't wait for a response, stepping down from the stool once Harry released him and making his way over to the cupboard, setting about making them.

"Must be hard," Harry said, pulling himself up onto the stool to take a seat, "Being apart for so long and worrying about each other."

Remus cast the warming charm on the milk and glanced over his shoulder at him, giving a nod, "Yes. It is a cruel time we're living in, Harry. Something even you haven't been immune to, particularly this past year."

Harry shrugged, "Things have been alright for me the last little while, really."

Remus got a little grin, raising his eyebrows, while his eyes remained on the mugs in front of him, "Oh, I _had_ noticed that."

Remus lifted the mug – still grinning – and headed back over to him, putting each one down on the counter, while Harry grinned in turn, feeling himself get a little bit red.

"She is a lovely girl, Harry."

"Even for a Slytherin?"

" _Especially_ for a Slytherin."

They two of them chuckled, taking sips of their respective hot chocolates, before Remus smiled at him more warmly, from where he leaned on his elbows on the counter beside him.

"I've been very proud of you, Harry," Remus told him, making Harry both blush and puff up with pride, at the same time, as his uncle went on, "You haven't allowed the opinions and expectations of others to influence your behaviour towards them – to Miss Greengrass and towards Malachi – and you've stood by them. That takes courage, standing up for what you know is right."

Harry shrugged.

"Wasn't that big a deal. I'm the one that had more to gain by it, anyway. Malachi and Daphne – they're great. I mean, they're just people, right, like anyone else. The best people, actually. Two of the best I know."

Remus gave him a warm smile, squeezing his arm.

And then Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Besides, Grace is gonna be a Slytherin. She's already stated her 'allegiance', so I need to get used to it. If anything, I'm the one that's gonna be outnumbered, in the end. Especially with Snape…"

Harry's voice tapered off at his own thoughts. That, hopefully soon, Snape would be at the house – the war finally over – and they'd be a family. A real one. He'd be like… his _dad_. For real.

 _Finally_ , his treacherous little mind – his hopes – whispered.

The incident at their most recent legillimency session – and the way he'd decided to try and give him 'the talk' in the aftermath – made it seem like it wasn't that far away. That, already, Snape _did_ see him as more than just Grace's brother and his mother's son.

Harry glanced at Remus, drawn back from his thoughts, and he wondered, then, properly, if what he – and what he'd realized Snape, too – had thought was actually true. That his Uncle Remus had been in love with his mum, too, and had been waiting – hoping – for something more, too scared to just ask, like Harry was with Snape.

Remus, sensing Harry's eyes on him, turned his head to look at him, giving him another smile, and Harry smiled back.

He seemed happier, now, his Uncle Remus.

Happier for walking away.

But Harry knew, even after all that they'd been through – because of it, even – he'd always still be _there_ , so long as he and Grace needed him.

"What does a boyfriend get a girl for her birthday?"

Remus' smile widened, "Ah."

Harry nodded.

"She'll be sixteen next month," Harry elaborated, "There's a Hogsmeade visit coming up, so I could get something there, but…I have no idea _what_. Malachi says flowers or perfume or –" he felt silly even saying it, " – a _ring._ I mean, Tonks is your girlfriend. Have you ever given her a ring?"

Remus' eyebrows lifted and he got a smile, giving a chuckle, before he shook his head.

"No. Not yet."

"Oh. Not yet?" Harry repeated, frowning at the seeming inevitability of the statement, before he asked, "Are you going to?"

Remus' smile slowly widened, holding Harry's look for a second. And then he touched his wand – 'accioed' a little box – and slid it over the counter Harry's way.

Harry flicked the box open, revealing a ring – a really, _really_ _nice_ one – and he stared at it for a second, knowing it wasn't just any old ring.

He looked at Remus, excitedly.

"You're going to ask her to marry you?"

"Well – it is something that she and I have discussed –"

"Yes!" Harry laughed in delight and flung his arms around him, hugging him with glee, "That's so great, Uncle Remus!"

Remus chuckled, hugging him back, "Let's not celebrate too soon, hm? She hasn't actually said yes, yet."

"Well, why wouldn't she?" Harry said, drawing back with a frown, and then he went on, "I hope she's better when you visit – are you going to ask her tonight?"

"When the time is right," Remus stated, smilingly, before ruffling his hair, "But, we _were_ talking about you and your young lady, were we not?"

Harry nodded, still feeling delighted for Remus, and unable to stop smiling. So happy that he finally had someone – that he'd be happy – and maybe, even, have a family of his own. He could just imagine it, a little cousin, a playmate for Grace.

She _loved_ babies.

"Guess I better listen, you're obviously good at this, then," Harry remarked, making Remus chuckle.

"There's no great secret to giving gifts, Harry. Simply use what you know about her – or something the two of you have shared – and chose something based on that. It's the most thoughtful ones that stay with us."

Harry considered it, still not entirely sure, but he felt a little more assured, giving Remus a smile.

* * *

"We had a visitor at the Learning Centre today, Mummy," Grace told her, as she lay tucked up into Lily's side where they were both lying upon her daughter's bed.

Grace, beneath the covers, and Lily, not, as she continued to try – in vain – to encourage her little girl to go to sleep.

"You can tell me all about it tomorrow," Lily pressed her lips to her daughter's forehead.

"It was Hagrid, Mum!" Grace announced, excitedly, not heeding her mother's cue; "He brought such cool magical animals for us to see. Just little ones. But he's got big ones at Hogwarts that I'll get to see later. Did you get to see them when you were at school?"

Lily touched her finger to Grace's lips, silencing her.

"Sweetheart. _Bed_."

Grace's shoulders dropped; "I'm not sleepy."

"Yes, you are."

"Nope –" she pointed to both eyes with each index finger, " – wide open, see!"

Lily rolled her eyes, shaking her head, fighting a fond smile that threatened – for if her daughter knew she was amused by her antics, that would be the battle lost, completely – and the accioed a book from the shelf.

"How about this one? It's your favourite – _thirty pages_ – and by the end of it, you'll be asleep. Deal?"

Grace eyed the book, eyes going a little glazed for a second, before she shook it off and looked at her mum with a raised eyebrow, with an expression of negotiation.

"Will you do the voices like Daddy does?"

Lily felt a little jolt at that, realizing she'd triggered – this book had triggered – another memory.

And then she drew in a breath, giving a little nod and a smile, before crossing her fingers and holding them up.

Grace smiled, satisfied, and gave a single nod.

" _Deal."_

Lily chuckled, pressing her lips to the top of Grace's head, and started to read.

The two of them chuckled, cuddling in close, as they went through each page, the tale so well known to them that Lily really didn't even need the book to tell it – it was entirely committed to memory – and as the story went on, Grace's delighted interjections slowed until they became whispers, her eyelids growing heavy.

Until, finally, almost when the book was entirely finished, she felt Grace's head lean heavily upon her shoulder, her daughter's form relaxing with sleep.

Lily flicked her wand, dimming the light.

And then she drew in a breath, leaning her head back against the headboard, and just lay there a moment, holding Grace in her arms.

* * *

The light was on in Grace's room.

Severus lingered in the shadows, eyes upon the house, waiting for a signal that would never come. The yellow item in the window that would tell him it was safe to come home.

It would never be safe, so long as Harry lived.

It would never be home, so long as Harry died.

Severus swallowed, eyes closing, knowing – determined – that tonight was the night that Lily would know of it.

The truth.

Regulus was right.

He had waited too long as it is.

And, so, when the light in Grace's room dimmed, he made his way from the shadows and entered the house the way he had done so during the summer, through the basement.

The house was quiet, even when he emerged from the staircase and entered the kitchen, but he could hear the sound of hushed voices overheard – of Lily and Grace – as she put their little girl to bed.

His eyes found a new picture on the wall – only one in the kitchen – of the three of them.

Lily and Harry and Grace.

It was a recent one of them at Regulus and Julia's wedding, as they huddled close to one another, smiling widely, in their formalwear.

His lips twitched, getting a small smile at the sight of them, but it didn't last long, for his eyes drifted lower, coming to rest on the items on the table below. Books and parchments of articles and journals and research, all he knew pertained to the project Lily had proposed at the Foundation some months before.

It ought to have been a cause for celebration – the culmination of over a decade's worth of hard work and ambition – that Lily should propose and take the lead on one of her very own research projects. One that – should it have been successful – would be admired and called upon throughout the Wizarding World.

Instead, it would soon become a lifeline. One of far too few they had to cling to, in an attempt to save their son.

There were footsteps on the stairs – far too soon – and Severus glanced in the direction of them knowing, from the sound and the carefulness with which she descended, that she was alone, and that Grace must finally be asleep.

Lily hesitated on the final step, momentarily startled, but she got a smile when her initial hesitation passed.

"Severus – _muffliato –"_

She approached him, her smiling widening as she did, and she leaned up, pressing her lips to his, when she reached him.

Severus relished this last kiss. Their last before reality came down upon them, lifting a hand to caress her cheek.

Lily drew back but remained close, her eyes expressing concern, when she asked, "Is something wrong?"

For, obviously, there would be no other reason for him to be there than something _dire_ in light of their current – as far as she knew – entirely contended circumstances.

Their lives carrying on as they had planned – though by no means what they wished for, quite yet – but, in these last moments, Lily was living in the belief and the hope that all of them were safe, they were moving towards something better, that the future was _brighter_ than all that the present offered them now.

Severus swallowed.

He hated himself for being the one to take that from her.

He hated all of this.

He regretted – with all of his being – that he hadn't followed his _own_ instincts in the beginning, and taken her to safety when she had looked upon him – eyes so trusting, so full of faith in him – believing that he possibly _could_ have. When she had looked upon him as if he had all the answers and was entirely capable of protecting her and her son.

Trust Dumbledore, he had told her.

Severus nodded, slowly, his hands coming up her shoulders, "Yes. It is."

Lily frowned.

His tone, alone, conveying the severity of it.

"What is it?" she whispered, her uneasiness rising quickly.

"It's Harry."

Lily hesitated, but it was all there in her eyes. The alarm that she felt, the dread at what he had come to say, and she said nothing. Just waited for him.

Severus lowered his eyes.

"There has been further information discovered regarding what happened the night that Sirius Black was killed. The effects that his sacrifice – and then the ensuing Killing Curse – had upon the Dark Lord when he cast it upon him – Harry."

Lily frowned.

And then she lifted her chin and – for a moment – Severus thought he caught a flash of understanding, past her unease, for he nodded, and went on.

"All evidence points to … that the Dark Lord's soul – already fragile and unstable due to the creation of his horcruxes – was unable to withstand –"

"Oh my God," Lily's voice was a whisper.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, their eyes upon one another.

Severus with a look that conveyed all – the truth of it – with the regret and the pain in his eyes, and Lily with an expression of increasing understanding and dread, as it all came together – all she already knew suddenly clicking into place – and she drew in a trembling breath, shaking her head.

" _No_."

Severus squeezed the arms his hands were upon, his expression pained, "I should have seen it. There have been signs. The parseltongue, the mind link, the possessions – the most severe of which the night you were injured – and –"

"No," Lily whispered, stepping back from him, her own hands coming up to her cheeks and her eyes on the floor as she shook her head, "No, no, no. He can't be."

"Lily."

Severus stepped towards her and reached up, his hand going to her hair, and he drew her close, pressing her face into his chest and holding her tight, as she murmured against him.

Her words were muffled – refusing to believe it – but he could tell by the way she trembled in his arms, by the look in her eyes as he'd spoken, that she knew it to be true.

It all seemed so ludicrous now that they had ever missed it.

Lily's murmurs stopped but her trembling didn't and he could feel the fabric of his shirt dampen through his robes as he simply held her, glad of the fact that he had kept it from her a little longer so that he could do this – hold her and remain strong for her – having already shed his own tears.

Lily drew back from him, abruptly, after a few moments, swiping at her tears.

"We would have known – we _should_ have known," Lily said, shaking her head, "How did we miss it? Someone must have seen it."

"We are seeing it now, as their connection strengthens," Severus agreed, "The signs have all pointed –"

"Albus would have known."

Severus hesitated.

When Lily said nothing more – just looked at him – as if in a challenge, he conceded the fact with a nod.

"Yes. The Headmaster is aware –"

"Of course, he is. Of course, he is."

"Lily," Severus attempted to reason with her, with a hand on her arm, when he noticed her eyes flash furiously, "He is not what matters right now –"

"Like hell he isn't! He will have known this from the start. With his scheming and his plotting, _manipulating_ all of us –"

Lily knocked by him and flung open the door – fully intending on confronting Dumbledore _that instant –_ and Severus hurried after her, following her up the garden path.

"Lily, you mustn't –"

"You have been defending him all of this time, well I won't hear anymore of it, Severus," Lily snapped over her shoulder, not stopping, and Severus hesitated as she reached the boundary of the Fidelius.

"Wait –"

Lily disapparated.

Severus stepped forward, fully intending to follow, but, of course, he _couldn't,_ not when their daughter still lay sleeping in her bedroom and he pinched the bridge of his nose, before he turned and headed back to the house.

* * *

Lily burst through the doors to Dumbledore's office, the fact she had been held at the gates for almost twenty minutes before they'd grant her entrance only serving to infuriate her further.

Albus was sitting there, behind his desk, entirely unalarmed at her arrival.

As if he had been waiting for it.

"Lily."

Lily stepped towards him and her fury left her when he gave her one of his warm smiles.

So familiar, so reassuring to her during her times at the school, the times they had served together – that she had served him – even now in the Order, and the betrayal caused a twist in her gut as she shook her head.

"How could you?"

"Lily –"

" _How could you?"_

Dumbledore stood, his expression one of regret – just as Severus' had been – and he shook his head, "Lily. I am _so_ very sorry."

"Don't stand there are tell me you're _sorry_ ," Lily burst out, "Don't stand there and tell me that you're sorry when you have kept this from us for _God knows_ how long. That you never told us we should be _running_ , that my son was going to have to _die_ to end this war that we have been fighting for you!"

"I wished to spare you the burden," Albus said, as if his secrecy had been entirely reasonable, "For how could you go on, do what needed to be done, knowing how it all must be in the end."

"You want me to sacrifice my son for you," Lily shook her head, willing her voice – raw with pain and grief and renewed fury – to be steady, " _I won't!"_

"Not for me, Lily. I could never ask nor force it of you, of course I could not. It will – in the end – be a choice for yourself, for Severus, for Harry –"

"You stay away from him, Albus! You will _not_ speak of it with him. _You will not!"_

Albus raised his eyebrows, "Because you know he would choose the right path? The one that would spare the lives, the suffering of countless others," Albus nodded, his smile regretful, "I have known your son, Lily. He is good and kind and, I dare say, better than all of us. Do you truly believe he would be grateful to us, for saving him over the rest of the –"

"Do not, _do not!"_ Lily burst out, "Is this what you've been saying to Severus? Is this how you've been trying to explain yourself? By laying blame for this war at _our feet_ if we're not willing to kill my son!"

"No, Lily," Albus said, firmly, "No."

Albus' eyes were upon the desk, with a look of consideration, and then he met her eyes, drawing in a breath.

"As you are aware, there was far more – a far greater and more powerful magic – at play that night, that led to this fragment of Voldemort's soul breaking off and attaching itself to your son."

Lily frowned, eyes upon him, silently waiting for him to go.

"I feel I can be nothing but honest with you but – Lily, know this – that the more who know of what I am about to tell you, the more perilous your son's situation will becomes"

"That he is a horcrux –"

"No," Albus shook his head, before going on, "I refer to the sacrifice made by Sirius Black that night. The sacrifice that protected Harry from being killed along with Voldemort, the sacrifice that lives on within him, in his veins, the loving sacrifice that his Godfather made for him. That, which just might be the answer, that which just may give Harry a chance."

Lily shook her head, "Voldemort took Harry's blood. The Old Magic that was enacted no longer protects him – it was voided. He can touch Harry, now, we know that. That's why it had to be _his_ blood, to bring himself back to life, Severus told me –"

"Severus told you what Voldemort, himself, believed to be the case," Albus interrupted her, "What I believe just may be his downfall."

Lily stared back at him, not fully comprehending what the old man was telling her.

"You see, by taking Harry's blood into his veins – by using your son's blood to rebuild his own living body – Sirius Black's protection now lives on inside both of them. And, in doing so, he has tethered Harry to life so long as he lives. He took into himself a tiny part of the enchantment that Sirius laid upon him when he died for his godson. And, in doing so, Voldemort, himself, keeps that sacrifice alive."

Lily frowned, "You…you mean…Harry would live? The curse would rebound again if –"

"So long as Voldemort, himself, casts the curse that will destroy the horcrux, yes, it is my belief that Harry would survive."

"Your belief?"

"Call it a hunch."

"A hunch," Lily repeated, eyeing him, "You want me to hand my son over to Voldemort to be killed on a _hunch_. And yet you suggest that another circumstance could be more _perilous_ than that?"

"The enchantment enacted by Sirius' sacrifice protects Harry from Voldemort and Voldemort alone. And it will only work so long as Harry – entirely and completely – is able to sacrifice himself, willingly, without any expectation that by doing so, he will live. As such, he can never know the truth. For the truth, could very well be the end of him."

"So, then, I have to convince Harry to walk _willingly_ to his death? Lie to him –"

"Not only to him. The more who know of it – the truth that a piece of Voldemort's soul resides within him – indeed, the more precarious the situation will become. For once others know of it – as our own losses continue to mount – it will not take long before others attempt to take the situation into their own hands. And, indeed, if any were to make an attempt on your son's life, should their attempt be successful Harry would most certainly die along with the last piece of soul that anchors Voldemort to life. The only chance your son has of survival, is to willing walk to his own death."

Lily stared at him.

Her jaw set, "And if you're wrong?"

Albus regarded her.

"Well. If I _am_ mistaken in my interpretation, then your son will have just ended the war. Voldemort would become mortal once more. And Harry's sacrifice would not have been in vain."

Lily's lips twisted in a humourless smile.

"Right. So, either way, it would suit your own agenda quite nicely, wouldn't it?"

Lily lifted her shoulders, shaking her head, "And by _then_ , once we realised we had been _fooled_ into convincing our own son to walk to his own death – convincing him that his own _parents_ should wish it, that he should die for _our_ future – it would no longer matter. Nothing more could be done. Harry would be dead."

"And so, would Voldemort."

Lily ground her teeth, suddenly _hating_ the man before her, more than she had, anyone.

"I don't believe you."

Lily turned and stormed from the room.

* * *

"What did he expect? That we would just send Harry to die – cross our fingers and hope for the best?"

Lily had come back to the house in a more enraged state than by which she had left – almost waking Grace with the slamming of the door on her return – and had quickly set about telling Severus – in a fit of fury – what had transpired between them.

What Dumbledore had revealed during the exchange.

Severus sat at the table, frowningly - while Lily continued to pace the kitchen floor behind him – as he tried to make sense of this new information. This new information which – if true – meant that Harry still had a chance.

This information which meant that Dumbledore had never truly intended for Harry to die.

"Well. I won't have it," Lily went on, entirely livid, oblivious to Severus' thoughts, "Harry's coming home."

Severus shook his head, "He is safer at Hogwarts."

"Safer at Hogwarts, with Albus Dumbledore whispering in his ear?" Lily snapped, "Albus already said it, that he's better than all of us – that Harry would choose to –"

"So, he would," Severus conceded the fact, "Harry _would_ , if the choice were left up to him, therefore removing him from his current place of safety – where he continues to be able to live as normal a life as he possible can – is ineffective. He has his extra defence classes, our legillimency lessons – Dumbledore will not reveal anything of it to him. As you have pointed out, he cannot, or the magic will not work."

Lily rounded on him then, " _Won't work_? Are you telling me you actually _believe_ this?"

Severus pursed his lips, glancing away, as he gave voice to it.

The slightest hope.

"The Old Magic that Black evoked is an ancient form of magic unseen for centuries –"

" _Don't_!"

Severus met her eyes.

"Lily, Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards who has ever lived – who's knowledge and experience _far_ outstrips ours – if he believes that there is a chance –"

"Severus," Lily said, warningly, her eyes flashing with a fury she would quite willingly turn upon him.

Severus got to his feet and came towards her, a hand on her arm, trying to reason with her.

"This is Harry's _life_ , Lily. If there is a chance – _any_ chance – then we owe it to him to, at least, investigate the possibility –"

"The possibility," Lily interrupted him, jaw flexing as she glowered at the suggestion, "Dumbledore's _great plan_ is to send our son to willingly walk to his death – _over my dead body_ , Severus!"

"And mine. If –"

"There is no _'if'_ about it, Severus, we are _not_ doing it!"

Lily stepped by him.

"He's trying to fool us into believing his words because he knows, once we've sent Harry to Voldemort – when it _doesn't_ work – it'd be too late for either of us to do anything about it. He will have gotten exactly what he wanted. He is lying, _playing_ on our hopes that he could survive, to make us do as he wills."

"No."

Lily spun back round to face him, at his quiet assertion.

"He wouldn't do that."

Lily shook her head, as if unable to believe her ears, and Severus went on.

"If that had been Albus' intention, why would he have not revealed it to me prior to now? He and I have already discussed this matter extensively and he was adamant – without revealing the full truth to me – that the Dark Lord, himself, _must_ wield the magic that would end the horcrux. And this was why."

Lily pursed her lips together, stubbornly refusing to give an inch.

"While there is much that can be laid at the Headmaster's feet; he does not lie."

"No, you simply have never caught him in one," Lily said, as she lifted her chin, "This is the same man who, for years, has fed selected information to Voldemort in order to secure the place of his spies – _knowingly_ putting the lives of Order members at risk –"

Severus closed his eyes, as she spoke of information that she should be entirely unaware of.

" – the same man who ordered you to allow Regulus to _die_ at the beginning of this year to maintain your cover. And _goodness knows_ what else - those are only the things you've let slip! The same man whose entire life's mission is to see the end of this war! Who has played this as if it were a game – made choices – great _burdens_ , as you once called them – regarding who gets to live and who gets to _die._ And _now,_ at the very height of it, you think his manipulations would not extend to Harry? Why? Harry who, Albus knows, holds a piece of Voldemort's own _soul_ within himself? Who – so long as he lives – binds Voldemort to life and the rest of the world to an everlasting war."

Severus drew in a breath, glancing away, knowing that, no, it wasn't entirely outwith the realm of possibility that Dumbledore was deceiving them.

But also knowing it wasn't entirely outwith the realm of possibility that he wasn't.

Severus met Lily's eyes, knowing – either way – that it was not a risk Lily would be willing to take.

The life of their son.

And, so, he stepped forward, taking her hands in his and pressing his lips to her forehead, speaking the words Regulus had said some weeks before.

"We'll find another way."

Severus felt Lily's hands curl into his robes, leaning into him, allowing the comfort he sought to give to her and he simply held her there for a moment, before going on.

"I have related the details of it to Regulus –"

Lily lifted her head, meeting his eyes with a frown.

" – he is using all of his knowledge regarding the horcruxes he has hunted thus far to attempt to figure out a solution to this issue. He believes you are already aware of a great deal of what he knows, yourself."

Lily nodded, immediately, "Yes. I – I know some of it. Not as extensively as Regulus, of course, but…does he believe there's a chance?"

Severus nodded.

"Yes."

Lily nodded, in turn, slowly, as she pondered the words, before she met Severus' eyes, speaking with determination.

"Then we'll find it."

* * *

Harry blew teasingly into Daphne's ear and she laughed, shrugging him off.

"Um – you're supposed to be _teaching_ me, here, Potter."

"Hm –" Harry made a show of thinking about it, resting his chin on Daphne's shoulder, "- I think it's _way_ better when _you_ teach _me_ stuff, Greengrass."

Daphne tittered, before she turned her attention straight ahead and spoke the incantation.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

A silver light burst forth – as it always did, now, when she cast it – but, this time, it quickly took form and a silvery owl appeared for the first time, soaring high up into the air, before it vanished from sight.

The two of them stared at the spot where it had been, stunned for a moment, and then Daphne let out a squeal and turned and flung her arms around him.

Harry laughed along with her, hugging her tight, "See. I _was_ teaching you something."

Daphne drew back – her arms still around him – and rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling when she said, "Oh, you take _all_ the credit for that, do you?"

"That's right," Harry grinned, nudging her nose with his, "I was just making sure you felt really, _really_ good, so the spell would actually work."

Daphne chuckled, brushing her nose back against his more slowly, and then she pressed her lips to his – kissing him deeply – seeming to decide his punishment for teasing was to make _him_ feel really good. Or, rather, extremely hot and bothered, by the time she stepped out of his arms with a flushed face of her own and a cheeky little grin.

"Come on, better head down for breakfast."

"Could just get something at Hogsmeade," Harry suggested.

There had been an announcement that morning that the date had been pulled forward a week, taking all the students by surprise and cutting this intended _private_ date short.

Harry would much rather just carry on with the date and skip the trip. Especially now that Malachi had insisted it be a group thing and had taken it upon himself to invite Hermione and Ron to tag along with them, too.

But Daphne took no heed of his suggestion – tugging on his hand with a smile – and the two of them headed from the Astronomy Tower back down to the Great Hall.

The headed in, the Hall abuzz with the excitement of the upcoming trip beyond the Castle, and Harry noticed Malachi up ahead, talking to Luna by the edge of the Ravenclaw table.

"I'll get you in the lobby," Daphne told him, ignoring the stares they'd immediately drawn when they'd walked into the hall, hand-in-hand, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Told Pansy and Tracey I'd eat with 'em."

"'kay," Harry nodded, smiling at her, as she left and he headed on over to where Malachi was standing.

"I do think it might be useful," Luna was saying, in her odd dreamy voice, as Harry reached them, "I suppose the more who are aware of the magic You-Know-Who uses, the stronger the resistance against him will become."

"Alright," Harry said, as Malachi nodded at him.

Luna gave him a smile, saying a brief hello, before she stepped away, leaving the two of them and making her way to sit at the Ravenclaw Table.

Malachi's eyes followed her – obviously wishing their conversation could continue – and Harry snickered, giving him a shove, "Should've just asked her."

Malachi rolled his eyes and, instead of heading to the Slytherin table, made his way in the direction of the Gryffindor one as Harry followed.

"I mean, she's a bit weird, I guess –" Harry went on, " – but she's nice –"

"How is she weird?"

Harry fought a laugh, "Sorry. Just meant she's not like other girls."

"Maybe it's the other girls that are the weird ones," Malachi said, taking a seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Or maybe it's you," Harry remarked, sitting down next to him, "For agreeing to go to Hogsmeade with a girl you don't even like."

Malachi rolled his eyes, "I've never spoken to Maloney before. She might be nice. Besides, we're just talking about my articles, that's all. It's not like it's a date."

"Um. It _is_ a date – Maloney's been telling people – and you already _like_ Luna," Harry pointed out.

When Malachi didn't respond, Harry looked at him, noticing Malachi's eyes were on the two aurors at the door – the two who had each been assigned to himself and to Malachi, respectively, for the outing – and Harry got a frown – a wave of realization coming over him – before he glanced back at Malachi who was now eating the breakfast he'd chosen.

"Is this about Emma?"

Malachi hesitated in reaching for his drink – just for a second – but then he carried on, not even acknowledging that Harry had spoken.

Before Harry could press further – his suspicion that Malachi just didn't want to be seen with Luna outside the safety of Hogwarts – Ron and Hermione appeared, taking seats on either side of Harry.

"You guys ready to go?" Ron asked, "Where's Greengrass and Maloney?"

"Getting them in the lobby," Harry told him, taking a bite of the pastry he picked up.

"Are they here for you, Harry?" Hermione asked, eyes on the aurors, and Harry just nodded, casting a brief glance Malachi's way.

"Heard they were thinking about cancelling the whole thing," Ron said, tucking into a second round of breakfast when he realized Harry and Malachi were only just starting – earning a roll of the eyes from Hermione – and added around a mouthful of pastry, "Diagon Alley's deserted these days, mum was saying in her letter yesterday. People just in and out, quick as they can."

"They've increased the security around Hogsmeade for the day – this last minute change of date is all part of the measures to ensure the trip is as safe as possible," Hermione told them and Harry nodded, knowing that to be the case.

A voice called out from the front of the hall, then – Professor McGonagall's – telling all the students who wished to attend today's visit to Hogsmeade to please gather in the lobby.

They quickly scoffed the rest of their breakfast and made their way with the other students – not all of them in the Hall seeming inclined to go, Harry noticed – to leave for the trip.

* * *

Regulus tapped the end of his wand against the small box he held – _"Reparo"_ – and then wound the handle on the side by hand.

The tune that played as he did was a familiar one from his own childhood, the tempo increasing until the lid flew open and the stuffed bunny within burst free with a 'pop' in time to the music.

Regulus grinned.

Delighted with the children's toy he'd found in the box the Ministry had sent his way once Sirius had died – he remembered it had been in there, the treasured item from his uncle that he and his brother had fought over so often as toddlers – just as the adjourning door between his and Severus' office opened and Severus walked into the room.

Regulus lifted his eyebrows in greeting, putting the Bunny-in-the-Box aside.

Severus eyed it, "Preoccupied?"

Regulus chuckled, shrugging and giving the bunny he'd repaired for the new baby a pat on the head, before he leaned over and lifted the scrolls that he'd gathered up earlier that week and handed them over.

"Remorse, it seems, is a known manner by which a torn apart soul may be repaired. But the remorse required, itself, can be overwhelming enough to end a life. Doubt Voldemort would be to keen."

The name – the real name – still felt foreign on his tongue.

Severus gave a nod of thanks, tucking the scrolls into his robes, before his friend went on, briskly.

"The magic your brother evoked the night the Dark Lord killed him –"

Regulus glanced away at the abrupt turn of subject – one he had absolutely no wish to relive – and straightened up in his chair.

" – is this a form that any of your sources are familiar with?"

"Old Magic? Not that I'm aware of. The branch is so ancient that most knowledge of it – all incidents, even – have been almost entirely forgotten. What happened between Sirius and Harry is still debated to this day, whether or not that's even what happened."

"Well. You and I both know that it was," Severus said, dismissive of any claims otherwise, and went on, "I need to know more of it."

"Well, you'd be better of going to Dumbledore. He's the one who figured it out, initially –"

"It is a claim of Dumbledore's I wish to investigate. Can you do it?"

Regulus frowned, "Shouldn't we be directing all of our energy upon finding a solution to the horcrux issue, first and foremost?"

"In doing this we just might be."

Regulus' eyebrows lifted.

"How so?"

"Call it a hunch," Severus said, rolling his eyes, "Will you look into it?"

Regulus kept his eyes on him for a moment – knowing there was surely more to it than what Severus was telling him – but, knowing better than to _ask_ , simply gave a nod.

"I'll put the net out. See what people know."

Severus gave him a nod of thanks, before heading from the room.

* * *

"Blimey, you'd think people had never seen a couple before," Ron remarked from where he stood up ahead at Harry's side, as the six of them made their way through the village.

The pairing of Harry and Daphne had been drawing the eyes of their fellow students even out here.

Malachi wasn't sure which of the two of them was the more foolish one.

Himself, for not asking Luna to come with him, or Harry, for so visibly flaunting how much he cared about Daphne – out in the open – for anyone to see.

But then, their circumstances weren't exactly the same.

Voldemort wanted to kill Harry.

After what happened at the wedding, Malachi knew that wasn't the same for his dad.

Not anymore.

Somehow, it had become a game. Which of the two could hurt the other the most. And Malachi knew, without doubt, that hurting _him_ was the quickest, easiest way to get to his dad and the way Voldemort had been playing it so far.

But he knew his dad was playing the game pretty well right now, too – Malachi's own articles getting Voldemort right where it hurt – so asking Luna to come here with him _would_ have been stupid.

After Emma.

Malachi tried not to think about Emma, eyes glancing to the side at Maloney, uneasily, having realized earlier that day that it probably wasn't a good idea to have come here with a date at all.

He may not fancy Maloney but if they were spotted by Death Eaters together, they weren't to know that. For all they knew, she could be someone special – someone worthy of killing – and the thought made him take a step to the left, where Hermione stood on his other side.

Not that standing close to Hermione was much better.

Harry let go of Daphne's hand abruptly and slipped his arm around her waist, pressing his lips to hers, defiantly, as they carried on walking, when he noticed some of the older students – Gryffindors – eyeing the pair of them, disapprovingly.

"Let's try and keep our behaviour appropriate on this occasion, shall we, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall's voice sounded to the side of them as she passed by, swiftly, making Harry and Daphne hastily end their lip lock.

Malachi snickered, sharing an amused look Ron.

It was odd, how Ron – who had, previously, seemed to hate Malachi simply for being sorted into Slytherin – had now began to speak to him again, after if he hadn't already known and been friends with him before he'd come to Hogwarts.

Not that Malachi was complaining. In fact, he'd much rather be up front with Ron, right now, than where he was flanked by two girls, hoping no one noticed them.

He wished – childishly – that he could talk to his dad about this.

His dad had told him that summer, when he'd questioned him, that Julia knew her own mind – that he would marry her, put her happiness first, even above her safety, because that's what she wanted – and that she was capable of making her own choices and taking her own risks.

Because life wasn't worth living without a little bit of risk.

He wasn't entirely sure where his dad had learned that – if it was something recent – because he certainly had never been encouraging of _Malachi_ taking any risks in the past.

Malachi wondered if his dad would say the same to him, now, if he told him there was another girl he liked. He wondered if it was actually _too soon_ for him to like someone else.

His dad had waited years between his mum and Julia.

"You enjoyed Malachi's articles as well, didn't you?" Hermione remarked, drawing him from his thoughts as she leaned forward to speak around him to Maloney.

Maloney glanced at her, impatiently, obviously not happy with her – with all of them, in fact – being there, "Yes."

Malachi knew this wasn't what she'd had in mind but, still, it was far safer for her this way. Three boys and three girls.

"They were really very inspiring," Hermione said, giving Malachi a smile – a warmer one than she'd ever given him before, now that the truth of how he felt about muggles had been revealed to everyone – and she added, "Ron and I, we attended some of the marches. They were peaceful, of course. You managed to reach a lot of people –"

Malachi gave Hermione a small smile, blushing a little, and just shrugged.

" – didn't he, Ron?"

Ron glanced over his shoulder at them, "Oh. Yeah. My dad liked reading it, he's the one who pointed it out to us, right, Hermione? He's into all that stuff, muggle life and everything."

"Yeah?"

Malachi wondered if that was a good enough excuse to go and join Ron and Harry up ahead, and stay away from the girls entirely – minus Daphne, who was quite obviously not _his_ to anyone who might be watching _–_ but Hermione went on, drawing his attention back to her.

"You should think about joining the One World Club at school," Hermione glanced at Maloney, "You're part of that club, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Hermione eyed her at the obvious shortness by which Maloney responded and, when the latter made no move to expand her answer, Hermione turned her attention back to him.

"Have you spent much time with muggles, Malachi?"

Malachi bit his bottom lip, eyes lowering, and Hermione quickly covered her mouth.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!"

Malachi shook his head, "It's fine."

Hermione shot him an apologetic look, looking mortified, "I just meant –"

"I know," Malachi quickly interrupted her, before it could get even more awkward, "My dad and me, we spent the summer with muggles, mostly. We travelled about and did some festivals."

Hermione's eyes lit up, "Festivals? The music ones? My parents would never have allowed that."

Malachi grinned and shrugged, "My dad isn't all that strict. He hated the music festival we went to, though. We did some other ones. Some car shows and there were book festivals –"

"Book festivals?" Daphne looked over her shoulder at him, the activity actually managing to make her and Harry tear their eyes from one another for a second.

Malachi nodded, smiling at her enthusiasm, before Daphne turned back to Harry, "You'll be taking me to one of those, Potter."

"Oh, Ron, come with me into Honeydukes, would you?"

Hermione and Ron broke off from the group, agreeing to meet them in the Three Broomsticks, leaving the remaining four quite obviously coupled up.

Malachi shifted, uncomfortably, at finding himself alone with Maloney but it was a feeling that obviously wasn't shared, his date quickly perking up when Hermione left.

"So," Maloney said, quietly, addressing him a little nervously, "What – um – what inspired you to think the way you do about muggles? It surely wasn't your father."

Malachi frowned, glancing at her, unable to help but be immediately offended at her assumptions about his dad.

"Um. A girl," he shrugged, figuring he'd rather talk about Emma than his dad's dabbling as a teenager in Statute opposition – among other things – that had originally got Malachi thinking.

"Oh," Maloney nodded, sympathetically, "I heard about that. Was she you girlfriend?"

"Not really," Malachi said, quietly, "Just…she was just a muggle."

 _She was not_ just _a muggle,_ his dad's voice immediately sounded in his ear, as it had the first time Malachi had said it, unable to think of any words that could truly describe her.

An awkward silence seemed to fall upon them, then, with Malachi at a loss as to what to say.

"Um…if you're muggleborn you must have spent a lot of time with them – muggles – too."

Maloney smiled and nodded, relaxing a little, "Yeah. I have two sisters, neither of them are witches, so – when I'm home, magic is pretty much an off-limits topic of conversation."

Malachi frowned again, looking at her, "That's not very fair."

"Well. My parents think it's not fair that my sisters are excluded from my world," she told him, giving a shrug, "And, since I'm able to fit into theirs alright and just hide it – the magic – without all the laws over there we have to put up with here, that I should just …"

Malachi suddenly felt bad for her – really bad – and shook his head, "I'm sorry."

Maloney smiled.

" _You're_ sorry? You're one of the only people who's fighting for people like me."

Malachi got a small smile, relaxing now, "Well. Not anymore."

"Here, give me your scarf," Harry suddenly said, more loudly – sounding annoyed – as he pulled his own red and gold one off from around his neck.

"My scarf?" Daphne sounded bewildered.

"Yeah. Wear mine."

Daphne turned to look at Harry, raising an eyebrow, all of them stopping in their steps, "You want us to wear one another's scarves?"

"Yeah. It's be – like a statement or something."

"A statement," Daphne repeated, getting a slow smile.

"Come on. You love that kind of stuff."

"And since when are _you_ political, Potter?"

"What can I say," Harry grinned, "I guess I'd just do anything for you."

Malachi made a heaving sound behind them – making the girls laugh, as Harry shot him a look – before Daphne did as he asked with a giggle and pulled off her Slytherin scarf, handing it over.

Harry immediately wound it around his own neck.

He shook out his own, wrapping it around Daphne's with far more care, and used the ends to tug her forward, giving her a kiss.

Harry drew back, casting a look Malachi's way and touched the green and silver scarf around his own neck, proudly, "What d'you think? Does it suit me?"

Malachi scoffed, shaking his head, "Nah."

They all laughed again, Harry flinging an arm around Daphne's shoulders, as they carried on, making their way into the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

Following Julia's collection of Grace that morning for a promised girly day with her godmother, Lily had spent the entire morning tossing aside parchment after parchment, trying to find something – _anything_ – that might give her an indication of where Regulus' hopeful attitude arose from, that he thought it were possible that they could possibly _do something_ to save Harry.

It was just one dead end after another.

Eventually, just after lunch time, Lily had finally gone to the Foundation – to Regulus' office – herself, once her own notes had run dry and asked him for something _more_ to look into, and he'd handed her more parchments – with a look so compassionate that she could have broken down there and then – parchments that he had already read but wasn't entirely sure were worthless yet.

They _were_ worthless, Lily quickly managed to confirm, when she'd quickly sat down to read them once she'd gotten home.

Yet more dead ends and she could feel herself become more and more panicked – the initial fury at what had been revealed to her leaving her – until it was, eventually, replaced by a feeling of hopelessness.

Of grief that she could barely withstand.

A fear that, maybe, there _was_ no hope – for Regulus always was entirely too optimistic – and even Severus had looked grief-stricken, hopeless, an anguish in his eyes that Lily had never before seen within him, when he'd told her the truth the night before.

That Harry was a horcrux.

Her own son.

Lily knew what that meant.

She didn't need Dumbledore whispering in her ear, condemning her for the fact that – maybe – she just _would_ prioritize her own child's life over and above the lives of the rest of the world. That she would stand in front of her son, protecting him, and tell those who would challenge it that they would have to go through _her_ first – _kill her first_ – if they wanted to take her son and sacrifice him to the monster who wreaked havoc upon their world.

That _she_ would bear that burden – the burdens of war, that Severus once spoke of – and make that choice.

That her son would live.

That her son _deserved_ to live.

Lily's head dipped forward then, as tears sprung to her eyes, because guilt came, then, on the heels of her thoughts, as she thought of all the other sons and daughters who also deserved to live.

Who would be lost to this war that would never end; of the lives that would never be lived if Voldemort were never defeated.

All those who would be fighting, giving it all of themselves, while she…

Lily pressed her shaking hands to her face, as the tears came, once more.

A sob escaped her.

The door behind her opened with a bang and Grace suddenly ran past her, into the kitchen.

Lily quickly swiped at her eyes, as Grace called over her shoulder, "Julia got me a new dolly, Mummy! I'm going to give her a bath!"

"That's lovely, Sweetheart," Lily only just managed to muster up a response to call after daughter – her tone shaking when she did – as she ran on up the stairs.

As Lily wiped at her eyes – grateful that Grace's excitement prevented her from noticing her mother's distress – she felt Julia's hand on her shoulder, her voice gentle with concern.

"Hey."

Lily met her eyes, only able to hold her look for a moment, before she crumbled under it, "Jules."

"Hey," Julia said quietly, as she felt her arms wrap around her, hugging her tight, and Lily leaned in and sobbed against her.

* * *

"Was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna show up," Draco remarked, when Daphne stepped out of the Slytherin Common Room.

Shocked to find him actually waiting for her to carry out their evening prefect duties.

"Like you're one to talk, Draco," Daphne rolled her eyes, not bothering to wait for him as she headed down the corridor – in far too much of a good mood after the Hogsmeade visit for this – and said over her shoulder as he leisurely followed, "I've been doing the prefect patrols myself all week. Where have you been?"

"None of your business."

Daphne lifted her eyes, skywards, shaking her head as they made their way up the stairs and, when they arrived at the top, they were immediately met with the sight of Malachi – out past curfew – talking to Luna Lovegood a few feet away, with one of his shy, little smiles, obviously making up for the time lost by not inviting her out to Hogsmeade as his date.

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw, Lovegood," Draco immediately said, marching past, imperiously, "Out past curfew."

Malachi shot him a look, "What about Slytherin?"

Draco scoffed, eyeing him over his shoulder.

"You _would_ ask, Blood Traitor."

Malachi watched him leave, before sharing a look with Daphne, who just gave him an apologetic shrug and glance at the timepiece.

Malachi smirked, rolling his eyes before turning back to Luna, as Daphne followed Draco, lamenting at what was sure to be a pleasant evening, half-wishing he hadn't bothered turning up again.

The two of them patrolled in almost-complete silence – Draco barking out orders and deducting House Points whenever they happened to pass anyone not in their own House – while Daphne watched him with a mix of both concern and annoyance, unable to believe how much of an arse he had become in recent weeks.

"You know you can quit with the act, Draco," Daphne eventually said, when they were making their way back down the stairs of the dungeons.

"What act, Greengrass? Think this whole prefect thing suits me, if anything."

Daphne reached up, touching his arm to stop him, when they reached the final step, "This isn't you, Draco."

"Like you know me."

"Think I know you pretty well. Must do, being friends with you for five years, right?"

"Surprised you'd even call me a friend. You obviously know what I am."

"I know what your father's turned you into," Daphne countered and Draco's chin lifted, slightly, and she caught a flash, then, in his eyes – a little bit of vulnerability – and she nodded, "I know how that is."

"Think this is a little different, Daphne," Draco started to walk by her, but she grasped his arm, firmly this time, to stop him.

"We're not our parents, Draco," she said, forcing him to look at her as she did, "We get to choose."

Draco eyed her, before something further along the corridor caught their eye.

It was Harry, Daphne realized, getting a smile to herself when she recognized him – even if she was a little confused at seeing him there, outside her Head of House's office at that time of night – and then Professor Snape stepped out a few moments behind him.

Neither noticed them and Harry glanced back over his shoulder, shooting Professor Snape a grin and saying something and – for a second – Daphne could have s _worn_ that Professor Snape actually _smiled._

The two of them parted, going their separate ways, Harry heading in the direction of Slughorn's staircase that would lead him the back way up to the Gryffindor Tower – obviously to keep his arrival and departure quiet – and Daphne frowned, completely bemused at what she'd just seen.

"Didn't realise your boyfriend was so cushy with Snape."

Daphne glanced at him, where he stood at her side.

Draco was watching after them – a glint in his eye – with just as much interest as she.

* * *

Regulus could tell – from the moment he'd woken to her eyes upon him - that there was something on Julia's mind.

And while he'd probed with questions and kisses throughout the day – wondering if there was something she wanted to tell him or discuss about the baby – it was past dinner time, when he'd almost given up, before Julia finally spilled on what it was that had been bothering her.

"Lily told me something yesterday," she said, when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his hands resting on her stomach – unable to keep his hands away from there, these days, still amazed and delighted by this promise of the future she'd given him – and he realized, immediately, what this conversation was to be about.

"Ah."

Julia got a wry grin.

"Been expecting this conversation, have you?"

"Well, I'd be lying if I said it was something I've been _anticipating,"_ Regulus admitted, touching his nose to her temple, "But I knew when you married me, that certain deep dark secrets wouldn't be too long in coming out."

"These deep dark secrets you've always told me I'd be better off not knowing?"

"The very ones," Regulus turned her in his arms to face him, asking her, "What did Lily tell you?"

"Something about prophecies and horcruxes. Harry."

Regulus nodded, "And me?"

"It was implied," Julia said, getting a small smile, "But I remembered the term from your office a few weeks ago."

"Ah," Regulus grinned, looking down, and he nodded.

Regulus drew in a breath, caressing her cheek, having tried to avoid this for so long, now, that he wasn't entirely sure where to start.

With the way things were now – the end – for Lily had already decided to reveal the truth of that to her.

The final horcruxes.

The end of the road.

Or should he start at the beginning – when he'd been a terrified teenage boy, barely able to believe his eyes when he'd first read a forbidden text about the very things he'd then spent the next almost two-decades hunting – and he slowly met her eyes.

At the look he saw in them – the faith and the love that was _always_ there - Regulus reached for her, drawing her close, knowing that all he could possibly tell her was everything.

She deserved nothing less.

"Alright," Regulus began as he drew in a steadying breath, telling the story for the first time, " I defected when I was eighteen, after an incident you may have read in the Prophet labelled the Anchor Ridge Massacre..."

He hesitated, when his voice waved, and he felt Julia's arms tighten, slightly – encouragingly – around him, and he nodded, touching his forehead to her temple.

"It is a rather _long_ story, Mrs. Black."

Julia raised an eyebrow, affection in her gaze and her lips twitching.

"Well, I'm all yours."

Regulus smiled, using the brief moment to do so to gather his bearings. To keep going.

"Three months after that, I went looking for the first horcrux..."

And then - from dusk until dawn - he told her it all.


	79. December 1995: Mentors and Mistletoe

Harry tugged at the silver and green scarf – Daphne's scarf – that he'd decided to put on again that day – neither of them having returned the other's following the Hogsmeade visit a couple of weeks before – in honour of her sixteenth birthday.

He rocked back and forth on his heels where he stood in the courtyard, by the doors that led back into the Castle, while he waited and watched the first flurry of snow that year dust over the grounds.

"It always is a surprise to find a student so eager to be out of bed at this hour of the morning."

Harry looked round, quickly, at the familiar voice, finding himself under the warm gaze of the Headmaster.

Harry smiled.

"Professor Dumbledore. Um – yeah. Yeah, I'm meeting someone before breakfast. It's…kind of a special occasion."

Dumbledore's eyes went first to the scarf around his neck – getting a little twinkle in his eyes at that, alone – before they moved downward to the small, wrapped gift clutched in Harry's hand and he smiled.

"Ah, of course. To be young and in love."

Harry blushed, immediately, at the suggestion, neither agreeing nor denying it, and shrugged, glancing down at the gift.

"It's just a bracelet. She…I don't know if she even _likes_ jewellery. Just…seemed right, I guess."

Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled, even if his tone of voice was far more serious than his expression conveyed.

"You always have had good instincts, Harry. And now, in the times, is certainly not the time to be doubting them."

Harry met his eyes at the statement.

He was entirely aware of the war beyond the walls of the castle. Of all those who continued to suffer – to die – as the battles waged on, far more ferociously than he had imagined, even if he had been warned beforehand that it had been coming.

Harry tried not to think _too_ much about it – though that was neigh on impossible – and with the holidays coming up in just a couple of weeks, any attempts at burying their heads in the sand were futile.

When it arrived, the festive break, he'd be back out in the world.

Not that he'd be fighting.

He'd be safe, locked up at home, with his mum and Grace.

Snape, though, would be out _there_. Back at Voldemort's side. It was a thought that made Harry's heart sink with worry and his panic rise.

"Think it's only going to get worse, Sir."

Dumbledore regarded him with the same warmth that he always had. And then the Headmaster gave a nod, conceding the truth that all were aware of.

No one untouched, now, as the war raged on.

Harry thought he caught a flash of regret in the old man's eyes as he regarded him. But they warmed, again, quickly – the twinkle returning – when he looked over Harry's shoulder.

"Ah."

Harry turned, his eyes meeting Daphne's as she approached.

"I do hope she likes it," Dumbledore said with a wink and a nod at the gift Harry held, before carrying on his way down the courtyard, seemingly heading either down to Hagrid's or from the grounds, completely.

Harry turned, looking back in Daphne's direction as she approached, the two of them sharing a smile.

But, as they did, Harry caught sight of Snape in one of the arched windows, eyes following Dumbledore.

Harry frowned, just as Snape's eyes met his.

Harry's smile that had previously been for Daphne returned and he _almost_ lifted his hand to greet him, stopping himself just in time as Daphne reached him.

"Hey," she glanced over her shoulder, quickly noticing Snape, too, but he stepped back from the window, then, and disappeared from sight.

"Happy birthday," Harry said, before cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss. A sweet one – a birthday kiss – and only drew back a little once he had, their noses still almost touching.

"You know, Potter, I didn't realise you and my Head of House were on such _friendly_ terms."

"What, Snape?"

Harry felt himself become uneasy, hating that he was going to have to lie to her.

"Obviously Professor Snape," Daphne chuckled, "I saw you two, after one of your detentions a couple of weeks ago. Not that often we see Professor Snape smile around here."

"Guess he was impressed with how well I can polish cauldrons," Harry said, as nonchalantly as possible, before he held up the wrapped box he held, "Um - this is for you."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, taking it.

"Thank you."

"Better see if you like it before you thank me," Harry grinned, giving a nod that she open it.

Daphne smiled, doing as he said and tugging on the strings that held the yellow paper he'd wrapped it in, freeing the box from its packaging before she flicked it open with her thumb.

Inside it was a twine bracelet, with two charms and beads upon it – one of a dog, one of an owl, representative of each of their Patronuses, and two beads on either side, one green and one red – that he'd had made after the session when her Patronus had finally made itself known to them.

Daphne stared at it for a second, before she slowly met his eyes.

Harry blushed, glancing away, not sure if she liked it or not, but it suddenly felt _very_ sentimental and he cleared his throat, "If you don't like –"

Daphne silenced him with a kiss.

There was so much affection and tenderness in the touch of her lips and the press of her fingers upon his cheek, that he knew – without doubt – that she _did_ like it.

A lot.

And then she drew back, pulling the bracelet from the box and holding it out to him, "Put it on?"

Harry tied it carefully around her wrist and, once he'd done so, Daphne held up her wrist, smiling at it for a second, before she reached out and touched the Slytherin scarf he wore.

"You know, you'd have been a great Slytherin, Potter," she teased him, lifting her eyebrow, "The green really brings out your eyes."

Harry laughed, flinging an arm around her shoulders and the two of them started to walk – not really going anywhere in particular – as he said, "Think Snape would've had a heart attack if I'd ended up in his House."

"Why's that?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

"Because I'm an idiot."

Daphne chuckled, oblivious to the double meaning, and he pressed his nose to her temple.

"I was wondering –" Harry said, more casually than he actually felt, his tummy fluttering a bit with nerves, " – if I could see you over Christmas? Maybe you could come to the house again and, y'know, meet my mum and my sister. Properly this time."

"Properly? You mean your birthday party wasn't a proper meeting?"

"Well, we weren't really anything back then."

Daphne turned to face him then with a grin, raising her eyebrows, "Oh. And what are we now?"

Harry pursed his lips together, but it did nothing to hide his smile, as he lifted their hands by their entwined fingers, eyeing the bracelet she wore.

"Well, I _kinda_ thought you might be my girlfriend."

Daphne's grin widened into a smile and she nodded.

"Yeah."

But then she glanced away, adding, "I can't do the whole 'meet the parents' thing this Christmas, though. I'm not going home so I'm gonna be stuck here."

"Oh," Harry frowned, "I thought you'd be going home."

Daphne shook her head, "No. Put myself down on Professor Snape's list yesterday. It's not Christmas without Tori. I don't want to see my dad. And my mum will just be miserable, even if she won't tell him he's wrong. I'd rather just stay here and read some books."

"You're just gonna spend Christmas by yourself?"

"It's no big deal," Daphne shrugged, "I like the quiet, sometimes. And I heard the Christmas feast is even better than Halloween –"

"I'll stay too."

"Oh, no Harry –" Daphne shook her head, even if he could tell by the way her eyes had lit up at first, that she actually _would_ like him to, " – don't. Your mum will want to see you. And your little sister –"

"It's not the first time I haven't went home," Harry said, though unwelcome reminders of the previous Christmas quickly flashed up in his mind at his words.

He pushed them away, "It'll be nice. _Better_. Just you and me and the snow."

And Snape, Harry's mind whispered, and he couldn't help but think that it probably _would_ be better to stay.

Snape still stayed at Hogwarts, even on the nights he spent by Voldemort's side, and – maybe – Harry would be able to check in, this way, and make sure he was okay, rather than spend the whole two weeks just worrying about him, after the state he'd seen him in during the summer.

"I'll send my mum an owl. Tell her I'm staying," Harry told her, the thought of Snape making him even more determined.

Daphne still looked unsure.

But it didn't last long, her hesitancy becoming a smile when she realised that he meant it.

"Alright," she agreed, her hand tightening around his, "Yeah. Stay with me."

Harry grinned and nodded that he would.

* * *

"You never told me that you expected Harry would live."

Dumbledore regarded Severus calmly for a few moments, from the other side of his desk – the first time that Severus had taken up this seat since their encounter at Halloween – before he eventually answered.

"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing and should therefore be treated with caution. I suppose I should not be surprised that Lily saw fit to share the details with you – though I am somewhat disappointed that she did not heed my implorations for discretion. You know very well the need for it in this matter, Severus. Why it would have been imprudent of me to share with you the details of what I _hope_ – and I cannot stress that enough – will occur, assuming events unfold in a particular way."

"The particular way that you are attempting to orchestrate."

"Indeed. I may not have informed you of the details, Severus, but I made no secret of my feelings towards either yourself or Harry. It is my dearest wish that you should both see the end of this war."

Severus glanced away. The words of Lily and the words of the man before him warring within his mind.

"What did you say to him this morning?"

"This morning, Severus?"

"I witnessed the exchange, Albus, do not be coy with me. If you are attempting to influence –"

"Harry and I merely bumped into one another on one of my morning strolls. I greeted him – as I would, any student – and I praised his good instincts with regards to a gift he had procured for a certain young lady that he has become – quite noticeably – fond of, these past few months."

Severus eyed him.

"You are certain, that should Harry be sent before the Dark Lord –"

"No, Severus," Dumbledore stopped him, "I am not. I place my faith in a higher power – one that cannot be explained and one that cannot be proven."

"Faith," Severus repeated, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice, before rolling his eyes and glowering at nothing.

"There are dark times ahead of us. A darkness, I fear, even that which we have already faced has not prepared us for. But soon, far too soon, we shall all have to make the choice between what is right and what is easy."

Severus slowly met Dumbledore's eyes.

"Do not allow fear and anger to cloud your judgement, Severus. You know, better than anyone, that it is by no means a way to live and to make choices. You have never before – in all these years that we have served, together – shied away from making sacrifices or the making the hardest decisions for the right reasons."

"This is not my sacrifice to make, Albus," Severus said, roughly, "Even if it were. I could not. To put my faith in your elusive _higher power_ – I assume you mean love?" Severus ended on a derisive note that he could not help, as he shook his head, "I have never had faith in that."

"No?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "I must say I quite believe that _love_ has been your guiding light all this time."

Severus lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"Indeed, I ask too much of you, Severus. I always have. But I must ask you again."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, as Dumbledore went on.

"Upon my death by your hand, Voldemort will place you as Headmaster of the school and your place within his circle will be unquestionable. His most trusted and valuable asset. He will be exactly where we need him to be. As will you. You will have access to the Headmaster's office and the portraits will –"

"Continue to guide my every move?"

" – will do your bidding. You will be in place to protect the students, to feed the information to the resistance –"

"The resistance?" Severus scoffed, "What _resistance_? With your death, the Order will crumble, and I will only be instated within the school as Headmaster so long as the Ministry falls and the Dark Lord ascends."

"The institutions may fall, Severus, but the spirit of opposition will remain. Those who would rally around the symbol of The Boy Who Lived and resist Voldemort's rule will remain just as strong in spirit then, as they do now."

"I find it rather hard to believe that Harry – a fifteen-year-old boy, fully incapable of keeping even his own hormones in line – is supposed to unite the people in your absence and lead the resistance against the most powerful dark wizard of all time at the height of his power."

Dumbledore got a small smile then.

"What was it you said during your House address last term, Severus – wars are not fought by single men. We are only as strong as we are united, Severus."

Dumbledore's eyes went to his desk and Severus' followed – to a number of parchments before him – and Severus recognised them as Malachi Black's articles, currently being published by Regulus through the Aurelius Foundation.

"It is a curious thing, Severus," Dumbledore went on, with that serene smile of his, " – but, perhaps, those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who have leadership thrust upon them and take up the mantle because they must and find – to their own and, indeed, everyone's else surprise – that they wear it rather well."

Severus' eyes lingered upon the parchments, considering the words, before his eyes met Dumbledore's once more.

Getting a slow smile when he understood Dumbledore's meaning.

* * *

Regulus leaned back in his chair – ankles crossed and resting up on his desk – as he tossed a crumpled-up ball of parchment across his office, easily making the wastebasket, when Severus stepped into the room.

Regulus raised his eyebrows in greeting, before lifting another parchment from his desk and beginning to read through another, though Severus could tell from the look on his face as he did – weeks into research, by this point – that his friend's confidence was waning, now, with each passing day.

Even if he did try to keep up an air of optimism, obviously for his and Lily's benefit.

Lily, sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk, turned where she sat to smile at him, "Hi."

Severus gave them both a nod, as he came into the room, taking a seat in the vacant chair at her side, "Anything?"

Regulus glanced at him, briefly, eyes flicking in Lily's direction before saying nothing and returning to his reading.

Severus' eyes lingered upon him for a moment – at the obvious gesture – only drawn away when Lily's voice sounded at his side.

"Some theories to go over with the guys downstairs," Lily said, with a far more assured air, as she indicated at a pile of parchments on Regulus' desk – the ones closest to her – before she reached into her robes and pulled out a small, rolled-up scroll and handed it over to him.

"Oh, and this came this morning."

Severus frowned, unrolling it to read what it said.

_Mum,_

_I don't want Snape to be alone for Christmas so is it okay if I stay at Hogwarts this year?_

_Please._

_Love you both. Give Grace a kiss and tell her I'll make it up to her._

_Love, Harry._

Severus got a small twitch of a smile when he read it, though he raised an eyebrow, handing it back over between his middle and index finger.

"A likely excuse. I quite imagine the _true_ reason behind this request is a certain young lady who just so happens to be on the Slytherin House list for remaining at the school throughout the duration of the holidays."

Lily grinned, taking back the note

"Daphne Greengrass?"

"The very one," Severus confirmed the fact, "They have, in fact, become the talk of their schoolmates these past few weeks."

"Oh my, sounds serious," Lily chuckled.

Regulus snickered.

"Merlin. _Greengrass_. Enjoy _that_ union, you two."

" _Doesn't want Snape to be alone for_ –" Severus scoffed, reiterating Harry's words, before rolling his eyes and reaching for some parchments to look through, "Splendid. In addition to maintaining my place at the Dark Lord's side, I shall spend every other free moment chasing two hormonal teenagers out of every dark nook and cranny of the castle."

"Oh, I'm sure Harry can control himself," Lily said with a grin, surprising Severus that she was actually even considering allowing Harry to spend the festive season anywhere other than at home.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. I do, in fact, have evidence to the _contrary_. A number of shattered bottles of potions ingredients in my store cupboard that just so happened to have gotten in the way of them during one of their encounters."

Regulus looked up properly for the first time since Severus had walked into the room, getting a wide grin, while Lily laughed, " _What?_ "

Severus raised an eyebrow – confirming that it was no joke and he had, indeed, caught Harry getting cosy with this young lady in his _store cupboard_ , of all places – and both Lily and Regulus burst into hearty laughter at the imparted information, while Severus rolled his eyes.

"Glad to be bringer of amusement."

"Well, that sounds like a Christmas to look forward to," Lily said, when she'd finally stopped laughing, and got to her feet. She leaned down, giving him a kiss, and gathered up the parchments she'd indicated on his arrival, "I'd better get back. See if there's anything anyone can find on this."

Severus gave her a slight smile, hand brushing hers – while Regulus simply nodded with a smile – as she headed from the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Regulus' legs came down from where they were resting on his desk, and he straightened up, becoming suddenly serious.

"I wasn't sure if Lily knew what you've been asking me to look into –"

Severus shook his head, no, and Regulus went on.

"Well, I found something about blood wards."

"Blood wards?" Severus repeated, frowningly, for that had _nothing_ to do with what Severus had requested he learn more about.

"Yes, magic evoked by the Bond of Blood – it is one of the simpler, though no less powerful, forms of Blood Magic –"

Severus rolled his eyes, immediately exasperated, but Regulus took no heed of that, carrying on.

" – by which protective enchantments can be evoked, assuming that a sacrifice has already been made – and it's been used throughout history to create blood wards. Wards around the homes of those who need to be protected, so long as someone who shares the blood of they who gave the sacrifice resides there along with the beneficiary – they who were granted the protection – and so long as both call the place home."

Regulus pulled open the drawer of his desk, pulling out some parchments and unrolling the scrolls to look, "Often, they are reinforced by the blood of a sibling of the deceased or a child, though a parent is also a close enough link to work. And it is a protection that lasts until the child – this specific magic only works on children – comes of age or permanently leaves the residence. But look –"

Regulus indicated a passage with a point of his finger, that Severus eyed, noncommittally, as he carried on.

"There have been whispers of instances where these bond of blood charms have been manipulated and used to reinforce the protection upon the beneficiary themselves – rather than upon their residences – in which cases it has been possible to _bind_ the life forces of the related and the beneficiary so that should another attack on them occur, the blood relation would take the place –"

"Argh!"

Severus pressed the palm of his hand to his eyes.

"Regulus, _I swear_ , if you finish that sentence, I am going to murder you myself."

"You're the one who asked me to look into this."

Severus dropped the hand from his face, his eyes flashing.

"I asked you to uncover further information on the nature of your brother's sacrifice – the Old Magic sacrifice – by which Harry survived. I _did not_ give you leave to resume another one of your ludicrous suicide missions!"

"Well, perhaps if you had been more _specific –"_

"I need you to find out if – when the Dark Lord took Harry's blood and used it in order to generate his own newly formed body – this reinforced and substantiated your brother's sacrifice, and if, by doing so, he has, inadvertently, tied Harry to life so long as he, himself, lives. So, that it is now _impossible_ for the Dark Lord to kill Harry by his own hand."

Regulus stared at him, mouth agape.

"How the hell am I supposed to find out _that?"_

"Are you not one of the most well-connected persons in the wizarding world?"

Regulus tossed the Blood Magic rubbish onto his desk.

"Severus, you are talking about two of the most obscure branches of magic there is; Old Magic and Necromancy. Now, I'm no encyclopaedia, but I'm fairly certain that if those two branches had ever crossed in history I – and everyone else – would have heard something about it. At the very least Dumbledore."

Severus released a breath, averting his eyes.

He voiced the words – the question – that had plagued him, now, for weeks. Since he'd first learned the truth of what Harry had become.

"But can Dumbledore's word be trusted?"

Regulus didn't answer him until Severus met his eyes.

Regulus lifted his shoulders.

"You'd know the answer to that better than me, Severus."

Severus nodded, slowly, before looking away once more with a sigh.

* * *

"This is brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, "You should stay too."

Malachi glanced over his knees at him, from where he was sat facing him in one of the rows of bookshelves at the back of the library, "And impose on your romantic Christmas? Think I'll pass."

"Daphne wouldn't mind," Harry mumbled, though he seemed to be rethinking the suggestion.

"My dad wants me back," Malachi told him, dipping his quill in the ink jar and carrying on writing on the parchment resting across his lap, adding as he wrote, "First family Christmas and all."

"Oh yeah, right," Harry nodded, and Malachi grinned at his obvious relief, as he finished up his most recent article, signing off his name and blowing on the ink to dry it.

"Hey," Daphne came around the corner, then, dropping her bag and plonking down next to them.

Harry turned his grin upon her, holding up the letter he'd been reading from his mum, "She said yes."

"Yeah?" Daphne was just as surprised – though far more delighted – than Malachi had been, and the two kissed while Malachi got to his feet.

"Heading to the Owlery, catch you here?"

They gave him a nod and he headed out the library, carefully folding up the article and the short letter he'd wrote and addressed earlier that day to accompany it, finding himself in the queue to the Owlery a few minutes later – there was always a queue, these days, since the war had started heating up – and he joined the end, six from the front.

He shifted on his feet – lost in daydreams for a few minutes – with that same little flutter of excitement in his tummy that he got, whenever he finished an article and sent it his father's way, eagerly awaiting his dad's returning letter and photograph a few days later of the newly mounted text on the Foundation wall, there for all to see.

A soft humming behind him got his attention and he glanced back over his shoulder, seeing Luna standing there, swaying, slightly, in time to her own invented tune.

Right away, Malachi smiled, turning to face her.

"Hey. Didn't realise it was you behind me."

Luna returned his smile, "You looked very deep in thought. I didn't want to disturb you. It's a curious thing, daydreams, and you do know that some people's minds struggle to come back to them, if they're woken abruptly from a particularly good dream."

Malachi nodded, used to her peculiar stories now, and took another step up the queue when someone else went inside, so that he was now two from the front.

"Are you looking forward to Christmas?" she asked him.

"I like going home," Malachi said, focusing on the more optimistic side of it, for he'd never really liked Christmas, "My dad got married this summer so, it's the first one in years it hasn't been just us two. A bit weird, maybe. Especially since it's my mum's…"

Malachi trailed off at the reminder that this first Christmas would coincide closely with the anniversary of her death, and turned the question around, "What about you?"

Luna nodded, having been staring at him intently throughout his bumbling, "I always look forward to Christmas. It's just me and dad, too, mum died when I was nine –"

Malachi started to apologise but Luna didn't wait for one, carrying on as if it was something she was entirely at peace with.

" – since then, we've always gone to Madam Rhinewalk's across the field for Christmas lunch. She has the most splendid infestation of Gernumbli gardensi that dad's very fond of."

"Um, Ger- _what_?"

"You're probably more familiar with the term garden gnomes."

"Oh, gnomes," Malachi nodded, "Right."

"My father has done a lot of research on Gernumbli magic. Their salvia is especially beneficial to, we, humans. They often gift us with talents we might not otherwise have discovered within ourselves."

Malachi fought a smile.

"Um. Alright –" he took a step up the queue, as two left the Owlery and the next two in line went in, leaving him at the front, "I'll remember to give 'em a kiss next time I see one."

Luna laughed loudly at the joke, shaking her head, "That's not necessary, Malachi. It's their _bites_ that gift us."

"Oh, right," Malachi chuckled, "'course. I mean who'd want to kiss a garden gnome, right? Would rather they bit me."

Luna laughed even harder at his words than she had before and he couldn't help smiling at her amusement, blushing a little and oddly pleased at how he'd managed to make her laugh, even if he was glad that they were alone in the corridor now.

Luna's eyes went over his head when her laughter eventually stopped, speaking dreamily, "Mistletoe."

Malachi frowned, tilting his head back and – sure enough – he was standing underneath a cluster of mistletoe than had been hung from the ceiling above the door.

He swallowed, glancing back at her, his lips twitching a little, and he wondered if that was supposed to be a hint or something.

Malachi had been ducking out from underneath bunches of the stuff that seemed to be hung _everywhere_ ever since the decorations had gone up at the beginning of the month and Luna wasn't the first girl to point out when he'd been standing under it.

He'd been dodging unwanted festive kisses ever since.

Malachi felt a little flutter in his tummy, totally unrelated to the letter he was holding, and he stuffed it into the pocket of his robes when he felt his palm get a bit sweaty.

Obviously because he'd been standing there so long, now, waiting to send it.

Luna lifted up her hand, indicting he come closer with her finger.

Malachi hesitated, both surprised and unsure.

He knew it probably wasn't a good idea.

So, he stood there, just looking at her for a second, before finally he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a little lick – because he knew kisses were better when he did that, so it wasn't too dry – and leaned closer.

They were nose to nose, his breathing hitched and the little flutter in his tummy increased with anticipation.

In lieu of a kiss, Luna said, seriously.

"You shouldn't stand under there. It's known to be infested with nargles."

Malachi got a slow smile.

"Nargles?"

"My necklace keeps them away so I'm protected –" Luna lifted it, eyes upon the pendant, before she met Malachi's eyes again and went on, " – You mustn't be fooled by their outward appearance. They're quite mischievous little creatures, actually, they –"

Malachi released a breath, a little puff of a laugh, and took her face in his hands, silencing her with a kiss.

Luna went still beneath him.

At first she seemed uncertain – Malachi realising, then, that this was her first, so he was careful to be gentle – but then her lips parted ever so slightly beneath his and he felt her hands curl into his robes, encouragingly, so he stepped in closer – their lips moving tentatively against one another's – forgetting where they were and why he shouldn't, and just let himself feel her.

Lost himself for a moment in her warm touch and soft lips and a faint taste of honey and it was familiar and not, the way his heart beat more quickly and his breaths came a little quicker, that flutter in his tummy that he didn't think he'd ever feel again getting more and more erratic with each soft brush of their lips.

Malachi drew back, slowly, and Luna's eyes opened, meeting his, with an expression even more dazed and dreamier than usual.

Malachi gave her a small smile.

"Merry Christmas, Luna."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

The door to the Owlery opened and Malachi remembered, then, taking a step back, and then he turned as the person leaving passed them and headed into the room, leaving her dazed and silent in the corridor where she stood.

* * *

"I hope you are aware, Mr. Potter, that – even throughout the holiday period – all students continue to be expected to conduct themselves by the same manner that is expected during term time."

Harry smirked, rolling his eyes where he sat knee to knee with Snape in his office.

"Here was me thinking you'd be happy for the company, Sir."

"Ah, of course," Snape said, silkily, as he lifted an eyebrow, "I must express my _deepest_ gratitude that you have seen fit to forgo Christmas at home with your mother and sister, all entirely for my benefit."

"I never said it was e _ntirely_ for your benefit."

"I have seen your note to your mother, citing your grave concern for my well-being in your attempt to secure her permission to run rampant throughout the castle these holidays. Rest assured I have informed her of your true intentions."

Harry shrugged, grinning, "Well, she still let me stay. And It wasn't like it was a lie. You looked like hell this summer. I could help you, if you'd let me."

"Let's leave it at that, Harry."

Snape inclined his chin, lifting a hand, as if encouraging him to resume the legillimency spell that he had interrupted with his 'warning' on how to conduct himself during the Christmas break.

"Why?" Harry defied the gesture, "Your parchments on our 'How to Make a Better Harry' a couple of months ago mentioned learning potions and healing spells and stuff but all we've done so far is legillimency. Why don't you teach me them, now? I could practice on you this Christmas."

"How tempting."

"Well, you obviously think I'm gonna need them."

"That's enough of your stalling –"

"You're the one who stopped me –"

"Shall we resume the lesson, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged, fighting a smile, still delighted that his mum had agreed to let him stay, and lifted his wand, giving up on his attempts to convince Snape that it was time to move onto something else.

Even if he was pretty convinced that he finally had a good enough handle on this legillimency thing.

"Legillimens."

Memories swept before him, as they always did on his first attempt, now.

" _Look, Daddy! Harry came home for Christmas and he gave me a present!"_

_Grace held up a little wooden box – a music box – that Harry remembered getting for her, during his first ever visit to Hogsmeade._

_Snape took it, winding it up, and the familiar, sweet tuned played as she smiled, widely, at him from where she sat on his lap._

It morphed, his sister's face becoming someone else's. Another girl with the same green eyes and same red hair, and it took a second for Harry to realise it was his mum, only a little bit younger than he was now.

" _Are you coming home for Christmas, Sev?"_

" _Don't think so. He doesn't want me there."_

_Snape glanced away from her, then, around the room and Harry could see they were in the Great Hall, decorated for Christmas, and it looked like it was a dance or something. Though it wasn't decorated as extravagantly as the Halloween dance had been, a few weeks before._

" _Do you want to dance, Sev?"_

_There were eyes on them, Harry could see through Snape's, whispers and pointing and murmurs amongst their schoolmates. Disapproving glances that seemed awfully familiar to Harry, now._

" _You know I don't dance, Lily."_

It morphed, and the red-haired girl became his mum as Harry knew her – older, eyes more haunted than sparkling – and they were at the Foundation at another dance – one decorated for Christmas, far more lavishly than Hogwarts– and Mr. Black was there too, and Julia and Malachi's Aunt Cissy and, Harry recognised from pictures, Malachi's mum.

" _I apologise, Mrs. Potter. It appears I am engaged," Mr. Black was holding his mum's hand, as if meaning to draw her onto the dancefloor, but his eyes twinkled as he met Snape's, "Though Severus does know his way around a dance floor, isn't that right?"_

_Mr. Black grinned and put Harry's mum's hand in Snape's._

_And then the memory stuttered, a bit – affected by Harry's own amusement – and they were dancing, their lips moving in conversation now and again, but Harry didn't pick the words up in the stutter and the spinning, seeing only his mum's eyes and her warm smile as they moved around the room._

Harry lost it – too amused at Mr. Black's antics – but he didn't come out, completely, and, instead, it morphed, and, suddenly, they were in the office that Harry knew, now, to be Snape's at the Foundation and they were _kissing –_ much like they were in the kitchen that summer, his mum on Snape's lap – and then the door to the side of the office burst open and Mr. Black burst into the room.

The two of them sprung apart, as if embarrassed to be caught, before the memories vanished, completely, and Harry blinked, finding himself back in Snape's office at Hogwarts.

Snape looked a little bit reddened, eyes glancing away.

Harry, though – who would normally be totally mortified at seeing something so gross – could be nothing but _delighted_ to have discovered _that_ little gem, in light of their recent conversation.

He cleared his throat.

"Do you consider that appropriate behaviour, Professor?"

Snape's eyes inched backed to his and Harry grinned, unable to help it.

Snape's lips twitched and he lowered his chin in a way that could have been either a nod of concession or of dismissal – or both, as it turned out – before he got to his feet.

"We'll conclude it there, Harry."

Harry got to his feet, too, and when he did the Slytherin scarf he'd been wearing – even now, a week after Daphne's birthday – fell off the back of his chair and Snape scooped it up.

"You do like to cause a stir."

"Only a stir because everyone else is being an idiot about it. Slytherins and Gryffindors are sworn enemies, says who?" Harry rolled his eyes, "Besides, it's not like we're the first ones to cross house boundaries – me with Daphne and Malachi – right?"

Snape only eyed him.

"I was there earlier this year when you took all the points away from Slytherin. You were right. When you said we all had to fight together – even with people that don't always agree – there's always gonna be _something_ that unites us all. If we can't find a way to fight together, that's when we lose," Harry shrugged, glancing away, "Not just whole Houses, though. The whole school. Everyone."

Snape said nothing but, when Harry looked back at him, he was looking at him intently, clearly not unaffected by Harry's words.

Harry shifted on his feet, a little uncertainly, "Is – um – is that why you and mum stopped being friends back then? Because of House stuff?"

Snape seemed give the statement far more consideration than Harry expected – he had, in fact, expected him to just dismiss it, entirely – before he simply said.

"Your resilience is one of your more admirable traits, Mr. Potter. Indeed, it is not something that many can boast under the pressure that you have faced while attempting to _reform_ the views of cross-House cooperation."

Snape said it with a tone that was almost sarcastic but Harry could see it in his eyes – the little bit of pride he had for him – and Harry got a small smile, bolstered by the little glimpse of it.

More than a little glad that Snape just might be _proud_ of him.

"I wish things had been different for you. Maybe…maybe things could have been better."

Snape regarded him with that same uncertain look he always got, whenever Harry said something that got a little too close to caring – to expressing that he did – but, instead of turning away, he answered him, this time, with a sincerity Harry hadn't expected.

"Things have turned out far better than I have deserved, Harry."

Harry held his look, surprised that neither of them looked away, and then he smiled and shrugged.

"Guess if things had been different – well – maybe it's selfish but if things had been different then…mum and me, we wouldn't have Grace. So – I couldn't really wish for that."

Harry swallowed, before he added, uncertainly, unable to help but lower his eyes when he added, "We wouldn't have you."

There was a silence in the wake of his words.

A heaviness coming over them both that remained, even when Harry slowly lifted his eyes from the floorboards to meet his, unsure what he'd find, there.

Not much, as it happened.

Just Snape.

Standing, staring at him, with that same almost-warmth in his eyes that Harry was becoming accustomed to, now. It was the slightest of flickers that he _did_ care in his eyes and Harry found it both reassuring and frustrating, how well he could hide.

He wanted him to be able to hide.

Just not from him.

But when Snape spoke this time, his voice was soft, in a way that he'd only really allowed himself to speak thus very recently with him.

"That is not a thought even worth entertaining, Harry."

Snape held out the scarf he held, Harry taking it and the words as dismissal, and – as he made to pass – Snape's hand came out, touching his shoulder briefly – a slight squeeze of his fingers against him – that made Harry smile.

"Goodnight, Sir."

Snape said nothing more, just gave the slightest of nods as he made his way behind his desk, and Harry headed from the room.

* * *

The gentle stroke of long fingers against her forehead drew Lily from sleep, her eyes flickering open, meeting Severus' when she did.

For a moment, she just lay there, bewildered at the sight of him.

"Severus?"

He gave her a smile. One of those small, genuine ones he rarely allowed except for Grace, that she adored.

She pushed herself upwards, blearily, but an immediate sense of panic took grip of her, that Severus would come to her in the middle of the night.

"Is it Harry?"

Severus shook his head, reaching for and taking her hand in his, his eyes lingering upon them where they rested on the edge of the bed where he sat beside her.

He drew in a drew, before meeting her eyes again, his voice rough when he spoke.

"Things are going to get worse before they get better."

Lily frowned, her eyes flickering between his as he went on.

"Lily. I know you do not have faith in what has been said to you. And I, too, have my doubts. But I do know that the only way in which we can end this is if we are all united, fighting towards the same goal. I need you to know that there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you and for our children."

Lily stared at him, her brow still furrowed, part of her wanting to protest – against what, she didn't know – but the other willed her to be silent, to listen, to be _with_ him – as she could see in his eyes, in that moment, that he needed, now more than ever – and so she gave the slightest nod, that he go on.

Severus drew in a breath.

"I have to do something. I cannot tell you now. But you will know when it happens. And when it does you mustn't come looking for me. Say nothing. Trust me, that I will come and find you when it is safe."

"Severus –"

"Lily."

Lily's eyes held his, a dread rising up within her at this unknown that she could see in his eyes would soon be upon them, and Severus reached up, his hand caressing her cheek.

And then he leaned in, touching his lips to her temple, before resting his cheek to hers and they lingered there, a moment, the two of them, time seeming to stand still.

His voice was a whisper in her ear.

"I love you."

Lily's hand tightened around his at the rarely spoken words and she turned her head to meet his eyes, the vulnerability in them catching her off-guard, and she touched her forehead to his, realising, when she saw it, that he needed her to be strong for him, in this moment, in the way he had always been for her.

Lily nodded.

"Okay," she whispered.

The hand still on her cheek slipped around the nape of her neck, drawing her close, and he held her to him. Drawing comfort from her embrace.

But not for long.

Not as long as either should like.

He touched his lips to her temple – once, twice – more fiercely than before, and then he got to his feet and left the room without a backwards glance.

And, only then, did Lily allow her own sense of dread come upon her, at what was soon to come.

* * *

Severus apparated back to the Castle, his heart heavy with his recent encounter with Lily.

And, when he did, he saw it immediately.

He hesitated for only a millisecond – before two silvery does fired forth from his wand – as he broke into a brisk walk - almost a run - towards it.

The Dark Mark suspended high above Hogwarts.


	80. December 1995: The Fall of Hogwarts

Fingers stroked gently through his hair, where Regulus' head laid upon Julia's chest, his eyes upon her abdomen.

He drew circles with the tip of his finger on the exposed skin – the new, very slight swell of their child – and lifted and turned his head slightly to meet her eyes.

"What was your mother's name?"

Julia gave him a smile.

"Marceline."

Regulus smiled in turn, "Beautiful." He turned his head, touching his lips to her stomach, his voice a murmur, "Hello, Marceline."

Julia chuckled.

"It could be a boy, Regulus."

"Impossible. I already have a son."

Julia laughed more fully then.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that."

"Hm," Regulus grinned, shimmying up further in the bed, so that they were nose to nose, "Are you talking healer to me, Wife?"

Her hand came up, taking him by the nape of his neck and drawing him in for a kiss.

The darkness of their bedroom – of the night – was suddenly lit up by the whoosh of a Patronus sweeping before them – a doe that Regulus recognized instantly – and the two of them turned to look as it hung high above them on the bed.

It spoke with Severus' voice.

"Death Eaters have infiltrated Hogwarts. Expect Harry and Malachi in the Foundation lobby in the next twenty minutes."

Regulus sprung to his feet.

* * *

There was a stillness in the Castle.

An eerie silence as Severus hurried through the doors, wand clutched tight in his hand.

"Severus!"

He spun round at the voice, just as Lupin appeared, hurrying across the entrance hall – drawing his robes closed over his nightclothes – also clutching his wand, "I got your message –"

"Get Harry and Malachi and take them to the Headmaster's office. The fireplace is connected by floo to the Foundation. Regulus will be waiting for them –" Severus swept by him as he said the words, adding the Slytherin password as an afterthought, "Salazar."

Severus caught sight of lit wands up ahead, huddled close together, the first sign that anyone had noticed anything.

Lupin hesitated for only a moment, seeming ready to join the congregation, but – at Severus' glare – he hurried on by to the dungeons, while Severus made his way towards those who approached.

It was Minerva, Severus realized, along with Professor Sprout and Filch, the three of them speaking hurriedly amongst themselves, and her eyes warmed with relief when she noticed him as he reached her side.

"Severus –"

"When did it appear?"

"Minutes ago – Albus has not yet returned from the Ministry – I have sent him a message that he return at once. The assigned Order guards and other professors are patrolling the grounds and the corridors, searching, but, as far as we can see, there has been no sign of anything amiss. No breaches in the wards whatsoever."

"It'll be one of those seventh-year lads, I'm telling ya," Filch said, eyeing the corridor, "Another one of their pranks, hauling us all out of our beds in the middle of the night."

Minerva met Severus' eyes.

Severus shook his head.

"This is no prank."

* * *

Draco clutched his wand tightly in his hand, eyes closed, as he waited in the courtyard.

He willed his nerves to be still, pushed down the feeling of sickening dread that bubbled in his gut, that this was finally the night it would happen.

The night he was expected to do it. To kill Albus Dumbledore. The great wizard whom the Dark Lord, himself, was too afraid to face. Or die himself.

Draco swallowed, squeezing his already-closed eyes shut tighter, as his hands trembled, knowing this was ridiculous.

Everyone knew that he couldn't do it.

This was just a slow punishment for his mum's – his breath caught at the thought of her – for his mum's betrayal. For daring to put love and family above all else.

Too soon, he heard the steady thud of approaching footsteps.

It took less than five minutes after his father had cast the Mark for the old man to come back to the Castle.

Dumbledore.

He walked briskly up the pavement in the direction of where Draco hid, ready to ambush him.

Both their wands were drawn and ready – Dumbledore looking far more intimidating than one would expect for a man of over a hundred – and Draco swallowed, apprehensively, having been told he had one chance at this.

One chance or his father would do it.

Draco would much rather his father _did_. But his father had been subverted by Order guards on their descent down the staircase – he and the others who'd accompanied them – telling Draco to go on ahead.

Get it done.

An order not to be defied.

He knew what it would mean if – when – he couldn't. He'd be tortured – killed, even – and probably his father, too.

Executed before one another – Draco didn't know which would be first – like his mum.

Draco heard Dumbledore's footsteps getting closer and when he lined up with where he stood behind the beams, he quickly took aim.

"Expelliarm –!"

His own wand flew through the air, accioed into Dumbledore's hand free hand – as if he had known he had been there all along - and the Headmaster turned to face him, calmly.

"Ah. Draco."

* * *

Harry was shaken awake, roughly, and a hand quickly clamped over his mouth – silencing his whine of protest – before his eyes were fully open.

It took a second of panic – a moment where he wondered if he was dreaming – before they focused on his Uncle Remus, and Harry frowned in confusion – a sense of alarm rising back up right away, knowing something must be wrong – and he quickly noticed Malachi standing behind him, as he sat up with a start.

Remus held a finger to his lips, while he lowered the other than had been over Harry's mouth, before using it to indicate that Harry and Malachi follow.

The three of them hurried from the dorm room, leaving behind the others who were sleeping soundly.

Not a word was spoken – the only communication between them were Harry and Malachi's shared looks of confusion and concern – as they crept through the tunnel that led back out of the Gryffindor corridor, and it was only when they were hurrying away from the Fat Lady's Portrait that Remus finally spoke.

"We have reason to believe there are Death Eaters somewhere within the Castle," he told them, in a hurry, as they hastily made their way along the seventh floor corridor, "Your father, Malachi, he's going to be waiting for you two at the Foundation."

" _Death Eaters_?" Harry repeated, dumfounded, as he and Malachi hurried to keep up with Remus' quick strides, "But _how_? How did they get in?"

"I have no idea," Remus told him, as they hurried on through the Hall of Hexes, and around the corner, "For all we know it's just a student playing –"

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light – a spell – suddenly hit the ground in front of Malachi's feet – just missing him – stopping them short.

There were hissed voices in the shadows.

" _Control yourself, Bella_."

"The boy is mine," a low female voice said as a figure stepped out from the shadows.

It was a woman with dark features and a menacing gaze as she eyed Malachi down her nose.

Even from this distance, several meters away, she was terrifying.

Harry's breath caught as two others – masked, unlike she – stepped from the shadows behind her, their silver faces glinting in the moonlight.

They were two of many more, Harry realized, as more figures stirred behind them, seeming to come out of nowhere – from a room Harry didn't know even existed in this corridor.

The woman took a step towards them, her lip curling and showing teeth, and Malachi stumbled back, a look of terror on his face, obviously recognizing her.

The woman's frame shook with amusement as she lifted her wand, swaying it side to side, "Hello Baby Black. Ready to go again?"

Remus stepped in front of them, his wand clutched tight in his hand, and Harry and Malachi quickly drew their wands.

"Boys," Remus whispered, "Run."

Spells suddenly fired forth at where they stood – flashes of light hitting the walls and the ground and the shield charm Remus hastily threw up to protect them, and Harry and Malachi's arms swung up, deflecting what they could – hugely outnumbered – before the three of them turned on their heels, ducking the others spells that followed, and ran.

A silvery Patronus – a wolf – sped on ahead of them down the corridor.

* * *

Lily ran up the grassy slope of the Foundation grounds, taking the stone stairs that led up to the entrance two at a time, her heart beating wildly both due to her pace and what Julia had told her, after almost banging her door down in the middle of the night.

Lily tried to get her panic under control – forced aside all instinct she had to just apparate directly to Hogwarts at once – and burst through the doors into the Foundation.

The lobby was almost entirely empty, save for two or three people, and Lily spotted Regulus up ahead, pacing the floor in front of the, now, almost entirely unused fireplaces.

Connected only to two places.

Hogwarts and the Ministry; for cleared personnel only.

Lily hurried up to him, quickly picking up on Regulus' own apprehension as she reached him.

"Regulus."

He turned, his hand going to her arm, and his eyes full of the same alarm she felt.

"Have you heard anything?"

She shook her head.

"No. Nothing. You?"

Regulus shook his head, eyes glancing at the timepiece on the wall, before he said, "They should be here by now."

Lily swallowed, her own sense of dread rising up even further within her – the very same dread that had never left, not since Severus' words to her earlier that night – and she started to speak.

To suggest they just go and get their sons, themselves.

But, before she could – just as her mouth opened to say so – a Patronus in the form of a cat swept before them, speaking in Professor McGonagall's brisk voice.

"Hogwarts Castle is under attack. All available Order of the Phoenix –"

Another Patronus – a wolf – swept in on the heels of it, speaking over the first, in Remus' voice.

"They've found us."

The two silvery lights vanished at the same time, leaving Lily and Regulus staring at the spot where they'd been.

And then Regulus' hand grabbed her by arm, pushing her back, and the two spun around, sprinting from the room.

* * *

Draco stared at his wand where it was clutched in Dumbledore's hand as the old man looked at him with a warmth that he had never directed his way before. A warmth that _no one_ had directed his way in months.

Not since his mum had died.

The thought only made the anger, the _hatred_ he felt, burn all the more within him and he glowered at the man before him.

"You're finished, old man."

Dumbledore glanced down at the two wands he held.

"I do believe you have quite failed in your mission, my dear boy. Though, I must admit, I never truly believed you would go through with it. Even if I had not disarmed you just now. You are not a killer, Draco."

"You don't know what I am," Draco snarled at him, "I'm one of his. I've taken his Mark! And it doesn't matter to him if I do it – all he cares about is that you are dead. And you will be. Tonight."

Draco's eyes went to the Castle, still waiting on them making their appearance – his father, the waiting Death Eaters – who would surely come, now, that he had failed.

There had only been two Order guards – his dad could have finished them off, easily, surely – and there had been at least a dozen Death Eaters sent through that cabinet.

And the werewolves, too, Draco remembered, almost shuddering with disgust.

"Indeed, our time is somewhat limited," Dumbledore said, entirely calmly, as if he wasn't about to be ambushed by a flock of his sworn enemies, "So, let us discuss your options, shall we?"

"My options?" Draco repeated, staring at him.

And then he laughed.

Laughed long and hard and he felt tears prickling his eyes.

"My _options?_ I have no options! If I don't do this, I'm dead. My father's dead. My whole family –"

Draco choked on the words because that was all there was.

Him and his father, who couldn't care less.

His mum was gone, and nobody cared.

They didn't even bury her.

All his father cared about was licking the Dark Lord's boots and making sure Draco did the same, handing his mum over to him to do as he liked. A traitor's death. Left to rot.

Draco was alone.

He was alone and he didn't even know why he cared, why he was so scared of dying – at least, maybe, he'd be with her again, if he did – when there wasn't really anything or anyone around for him to live for, anyway.

But he _was_ scared.

He didn't want to die.

Draco's lip trembled.

"It's too late."

There was a crash and the sounds of voices and shouts inside the Castle and Dumbledore turned, slightly, in their direction.

For a moment, Draco thought he would just go. He'd dealt with him, now. The Headmaster made the slightest of movements in the direction of the school.

But then Dumbledore turned back, eyes upon him.

And the old man stepped towards him, instead, his voice reassuring and his eyes warm, so much so that Draco dared – despite all he'd been told about the old man by others, by his father, by the Dark Lord – to believe him.

To hope.

"It is never too late, Draco. Come over to the right side and we can protect you. Hide you. You need not return to the side of Lord Voldemort –"

Draco winced at the name.

"I know you do not wish it. And nothing has been done – yet – from which you cannot come back from –"

Draco's hand involuntary went to his arm, where the Dark Mark was branded upon him, and Dumbledore gave the slightest of nods, his voice going on, softly.

"You would not be the first of his followers to realise the error of their ways and seek to rectify their mistakes."

Draco bit his lip, shaking his head.

"Snakes. Traitors."

But Draco realized he was one, too.

He'd become one, the moment he saved Daphne on the train, and lied about it.

He'd be caught for that. Soon, he'd be before the Dark Lord, on his knees while he stifled through his mind, looking for anything _useful_ to him. And he'd see Daphne and he'd see _this._

But he'd have failed, anyway, so maybe he wouldn't even bother looking.

Maybe he'd just kill him right away.

The shouts within the Castle were intensifying and, suddenly, Draco could see there were figures running up the grass and Draco knew, then, that they were part of Dumbledore's Order.

He met the old man's eyes, warily, wondering why his father still hadn't come.

Why Dumbledore was still alive and well before him, offering him hope, while the old man's own soldiers made to join them – running past the two of them where they stood, taking no notice of Draco, at all – and into the Castle.

The sounds of battle within intensified when the doors swung open.

Dumbledore lifted his chin, giving Draco a smile – to his absolute astonishment – and then he held out the wand he had confiscated at the beginning of their encounter.

Draco swallowed, eyeing it.

Before he met Dumbledore's eyes and reached out, lifting his wand from the outstretched hand.

* * *

Harry stumbled on the last step – tripping and landing with an 'oomph' on his stomach – and Malachi quickly grabbed him under the arms – not stopping in his own steps – and hauled him back up as the two of them ran on, ducking the spells that were firing all around them, hitting the timbres and sending bits of wood and stone everywhere, his Uncle Remus covering their backs.

Harry was sure they'd be hit – how could one of them not have already been hit – as they ran along the third floor corridor, trying to make their way down to the ground, where Remus had said the Order would come in through.

"Remus!"

Harry almost sighed with relief when he heard another voice as they rounded the corner but it was just Professor McGonagall _–_ who Harry didn't really fancy had much of a chance at helping them – and Professors Burbage and Hooch, as well, and Harry was sure they were doomed.

"At least a dozen –" his Uncle Remus gasped out, out of breath, as they reached them, and they raised their wands just as the first rounded the corner, fighting them off.

McGonagall made swish with her wand and a torch on the wall flew towards the approaching Death Eaters, becoming a ring of fire as it did, in the form of a lasso, wrapping around two of them who yelled in pain as it seized them.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, more than a little impressed.

"Boys, GO, now!"

Harry shook his head, raising his wand to fight.

Malachi did the same. Albeit a little less enthusiastically.

"You're not helping, Harry, GO!" Remus yelled, as flashes of light fired forth once more and the professors were immediately engaged in combat with the Death Eaters that had reached them.

Harry lifted his wand, opening his mouth to speak an incantation, but was suddenly seized by the collar and dragged backwards, and he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Snape's face before he was shoved on ahead.

He stumbled, glancing over his shoulder, only just catching Snape's eye who had grabbed Malachi by the arm, hauling him roughly from where he stood at McGonagall's side, before he was hurrying them down the next flight of stairs, muttering under his breath.

"Absolute foolishness."

"What –"

"This is no time for questions, Mr. Potter."

They ran down the next flight of stairs and the next, the sounds of shouts and bangs and yells still echoing loudly above them – still in hot pursuit, despite the reinforcements – and they finally hit the ground floor, running, and reaching to pass the Great Hall but, when they did, two other masked Death Eaters appeared up ahead, appearing fresh out of a scuffle on the other staircase.

Snape stopped, each hand immediately gripping both he and Malachi by the arms.

"Severus," a silky-smooth voice greeted him – one Harry was sure he recognized from the Foundation attack – and Harry swallowed at the familiarity by which it addressed the man beside him.

Harry lifted his eyes to Snape's face, who looked entirely calm, nonplussed by the fact there were two Death Eaters right in front of them, and raised his eyebrows.

Snape made to speak – Harry was sure he was about to come up with some excuse for why he had them – but before he could, the main entrance door suddenly burst open.

Harry knew right away – seeing Tonks – that it was the Order, there at last.

The two Death Eaters were quickly engaged by the arriving reinforcements, just as the Death Eaters who had been pursing them down the staircases stumbled in behind them – Remus and the other professors along with them – as Snape quickly pulled Harry and Malachi backwards by the arms, ducking into the Great Hall.

"Wands out. Get over there," Snape lifted his chin, vaguely in the far direction of the Professors' table, as he turned and engaged with the next person – a Death Eater – the first of several who spilled into the room.

Harry and Malachi barely reached half-way across the hall before one of the Death Eaters was upon them, hurrying up the side of the Ravenclaw Table, and Harry lifted his wand, only just managing to deflect the spell that was fired his way.

Another came and another and Harry quickly flicked up his wand, deflecting the spells, before his own fired forth – " _Stupefy!" –_ which was easily blocked but while the Death Eater deflected it Malachi cried out at his side.

"Petrificus totalus!"

And the Death Eater hit the floor.

There was no time for celebrating – to even be shocked that they'd actually floored one – as each of them gripped their wands, another coming upon them, and Harry fired another spell – Malachi too – the two of them taking on the next one, two to one, as more people – Death Eaters, Order Members and Professors, alike – flooded into Great Hall, while others continued to fight – lights flashing back and forth across the doorway – in the entrance hall.

All the plates on the Slytherin table beside them suddenly rose up, transfiguring in the air into arrows, and they shot towards each of the Death Eaters – Harry watching in awe as Professor McGonagall aimed them – before he had to duck to get out of the way of an enormous Christmas wreath that tore off the roof and hurtled in her direction, becoming a live, hissing serpent as it flew through the air, that she vanquished in a puff of smoke.

A purple flash of light firing in front of Harry that Malachi quickly deflected – saving his _skin –_ forced him to focus.

Harry had never seen anything like it.

More items flew through the air, transfiguring into weapons and disappearing in puffs of smoke or explosions of glitter, while incantations were shouted out all around them, shots of purple and blue and yellow lights lighting the room in quick, blinding flashes.

It was even more ferocious than the battle had been at the Foundation.

But then, Harry had been hiding, not fighting, that time and adrenaline pushed him on, then, as he drew on all he'd learned from Remus and the Duel Club as he stood, fighting them off, properly, this time.

Fighting on instinct, deflecting and firing back spells at any who tried to attack them.

"Expelliar –"

"Stupefy!"

Another Death Eater hit the ground – the second he and Malachi had floored – and it was then that Harry realized the first Malachi hit was no longer where he'd fallen, the spell having worn off, already.

People were screaming, now, and bodies were being thrown across the room – as well as the transfigured weapons – hitting the tables and sliding off them onto the floor with gasps and groans of pain.

A green light hit off the table in front of them, only just missing Malachi again – deflected by Snape, Harry realized when he looked up – and he saw the same crazed woman approaching that had attacked them first time.

Malachi went white, his hand gripping his wand, as the woman snarled and fired a spell forth at him and Harry fired one back at her – he and Malachi firing spells together, two-on-one like before, and throwing up shields – but she was _good,_ Harry realized, they'd need more than just them two for this one.

They struggled and struggled until, suddenly, Harry was hit by one – by something unbearable, and he screamed, hitting the ground and writhing under it – some indescribable agony coiling and twisting and burning within him – making him sob and scream and convulse on the floor.

It abruptly stopped though his nerves still hummed and his mind still spun but through it Harry caught a glimpse of red-hair up ahead – his mum – engaging with and pushing the crazy woman back.

Malachi hurriedly knelt down next to him, trying to pull him back up, but he had to let go, deflecting another spell and quickly getting to his feet when another Death Eater jumped down off the table at them.

" _Potter_! Oh, you'll be worth a good prize –"

Malachi shot a spell at him that the Death Eater easily deflected, before grabbing Malachi by the throat, "You too, Traitor-Spawn –"

The Death Eater was suddenly hit from behind with a spell that made him drop to the ground beside where Harry was still in a heap, trying to catch his breath, and Mr. Black hurried up to them.

"Dad!"

Mr. Black hugged Malachi, his wand gripped so tight his knuckles were white, as his eyes met Harry's over Malachi's shoulder, "You alright?"

Harry forced a nod, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled, as Mr. Black reached down, grasping one, and pulled him up to his feet.

There was a deafening smash, suddenly, off to the side in the entrance lobby and Harry saw rubies and sapphires spilling out from the shattered Gryffindor and Ravenclaw hourglasses and the people fighting in front of them stumbled and slipped to the ground as they poured out under their feet.

And, while Harry was looking at the door, Dumbledore walked into the room, wand drawn.

* * *

This was madness.

The thought came to Severus, even amongst this chaos, that he was surely not so high up in the Dark Lord's circle as he needed to be, if he had not thought to involve him or seek his counsel on – what appeared to be – a full scale attack on the school.

Well.

That would change after tonight.

Indeed, every Death Eater and werewolf supporter Severus was aware of appeared to be present, the only person _not,_ the Dark Lord, himself.

If they weren't enough witnesses to what was due to occur, well, then what more could the Dark Lord ask for.

There were spells firing everywhere, shouts and thuds and screams of agony, as Severus – as he must to maintain his cover – fought on the side of the Order.

His own spells were non-lethal, as always, as they must be – as were the few Death Eaters who bothered to engage him, for they, too, believed it was all an act, for their own side – but for the others, the fighting was vicious.

Out of the corner of his eye Severus realized, in a panic, that Harry was _still_ engaged in combat – Malachi, also – both of them attempting to fight off Bellatrix Lestrange – despite the fact Severus had just had to deflect a _Killing Curse_ fired Malachi's way by said woman – neither demonstrating the good sense to _run_.

Above the screams that already filled the hall Severus heard it – Harry's agonized screams as he hit the floor – and it tightened and coiled in Severus' gut, the excruciation he could hear in his wails.

Severus fought back harder against Greyback – who was fighting him with far more intent than the Death Eaters who had contested him – meaning to go to the boys' aid.

A familiar sight of fiery red hair suddenly appeared in his line of vision, making his heart first leap and then sink.

Lily's frame shielded the boys from his view and she fired a spell at Bellatrix as she approached, furiously – Harry's cries coming to a halt – drawing the madwoman's attention to her new adversary; Lily practically snarled herself as she spoke each incantation, pushing her opponent back from their son.

Severus couldn't watch for long – couldn't wonder how on Earth he was supposed to do this with Lily there to bear witness to the act – as Greyback fought harder and the battle around him raged on far too ferociously for him to remain still.

Dumbledore was engaging three at a time as he made his way further into the room – almost with _ease_ – and as he lifted a hand – his blackened, dead hand – the candles lining the hall lit up, burning bright, and, with a flick of his wrist, the flames fired at the three Death Eaters who fought him – one ducked for cover, while the other two hastily deflected the fire.

Mad-Eye yowled, set alight by one of those deflected, but it was quickly snuffed out and he fought on.

Severus' eyes found Dumbledore once more, seeing him take a place in front of the boys, carrying on engaging with ease any who dared approach them.

And Severus knew, then, as his old mentor took up a protective stance before them – shielding the boys, shielding _Harry_ – whose death would eliminate the horcrux – from harm – that he had meant it, what he had said. That he truly had faith that Harry would survive, so long as the Dark Lord, himself, wielded the magic that would end him.

And Dumbledore would not allow another to harm him.

"Black!"

Severus' head flipped around at the snarl of a Death Eater behind him and, sure enough, _Regulus_ was there, as well as Lily, and Severus knew, then, that he was surrounded by _idiots_ this night, as two Death Eaters quickly advanced upon his friend – one of the more prized catches, aside from the two boys up ahead now behind Dumbledore – and Severus hit Greyback with a body-bind when he noticed Regulus begin to struggle to hold them off.

Severus was unable to help his little smirk of satisfaction at the thud of the werewolf's body hitting the floor behind him as he turned.

Severus flicked his wand, parrying with the second of the two who had approached Regulus, knowing that that, in itself, was risky. A bit too much like coming to an enemy's aid, rather than keeping up appearances, but he fought them all the same.

Soon, his loyalties would be beyond dispute.

His devotion to the Dark Lord unquestionable.

Obvious.

" _Crucio_!" sounded out behind him and someone hit the ground at his feet, screaming.

More agonized screams sounded around them and the flames of the candles that Dumbledore wielded flew in all directions, some deflected and some catching on the festive decorations that hung around the Hall, setting them alight and illuminating the room in a fiery glow, as flashes of blue and purple and green continued to fire forth.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

The sickening sound of a body thudding to the ground behind him got his attention.

" _NO!"_ Minerva's voice cried out, grief-stricken.

Severus hit his opponent harder, sending them stumbling a few steps back, before he flicked his wand again and knocked them to the floor, earning himself a moment.

He risked a glance over his shoulder at the fallen.

Charity Burbage lay dead on the ground.

Severus stared at her for a moment and then he turned.

His eyes found Dumbledore across the room.

Dumbledore, eyes pained as took in Charity's lifeless form, met Severus' gaze and – ever so slightly – inclined his chin.

She would be the first and the last. But him.

Severus swallowed, gripping his wand tight.

But, before Severus could approach, the Ravenclaw Table was suddenly hit – combusting behind him – and he felt himself fly forwards through the air – he and the others closest to him – as the force of the explosion hit them from behind and he landed in a heap at the other side of the hall, behind the Gryffindor table.

Severus reached up, his palm pressed to his cheek, and when he drew it back, he saw blood.

The form next to him moved, tossing over, and Severus glanced down at Regulus who had landed beside him.

Not bleeding, as Severus was, even if he did look a bit dazed as he groaned, pushing himself up on his arms.

Severus eyed him, a plan quickly forming, as he glanced back in Dumbledore's direction.

The best way to do this – to make it as believable as possible – as foolproof as they could – for he would lose his spot at the Foundation as well as at Hogwarts this night.

"Cover Dumbledore," Severus told him, quietly.

Regulus met Severus' eyes with a frown, before glancing over the edge of the table that concealed them, where they could see Dumbledore continue to engage multiple Death Eaters at time, while simultaneously wielding and influencing the flames of the candles and the alight decorations, face aglow with their light and fierceness.

Regulus shot him a look.

"I think he's covered."

Regulus winced as he sat up straighter, brushing off the bits of wood fibres that clung to his robes from the combusted table.

"Regulus."

Regulus stopped in his movements and looked back at him, immediately sensing something was amiss but, before anything further could be said between them, a Death Eater rounded the table and Severus promptly got to his feet and engaged him, while Regulus jumped up and over the table, heading to Dumbledore's side.

Severus fought the new opponent almost in a daze, knowing this was it.

It had to be done before another fell and, only then, would the Death Eaters retreat.

They daren't leave with nothing.

Severus fought off the Death Eater with ease, who backed off – bored – when Regulus made his escape, knowing that neither left behind could do anything to one another.

Severus approached where Dumbledore stood, Regulus now clashing with a Death Eater a few feet to his left.

Severus did not look at Lily as he passed, close enough that the familiar scent of her hair filled his senses, past all the flashes and the screams and the remorse that was already taking grip, before he'd even done it.

Severus lazily parried away the spells that were half-heartedly cast his way by Death Eaters as he walked up the hall.

He stopped several feet away from where Dumbledore stood.

It was close enough.

He dared not look at Harry, who remained some feet behind Dumbledore, fighting back-to-back with Malachi against the few adversaries who dared approach and face Dumbledore's wrath.

Kindly blue eyes met his. Grateful. Knowing, always knowing, that he would do as he asked.

Severus gazed at Dumbledore for a moment.

The battle still raged on around them, Dumbledore himself still wielding the flames – the look shared between them but a second - as their eyes met.

Severus tried to mean it.

He tried for hate. He tried for anger.

He tried for pain. He tried for grief.

They came easy.

All of them.

All he had to think about was _this._

And then Severus gripped his wand tight and raised it, swiftly without hesitation, pointing it directly at Dumbledore.

"Avada Kedavra."

A jet of green light shot forth from Severus' wand, hitting Dumbledore square in the chest.

Dumbledore hit the ground.

Dead.

With his fall, the flames in the room went out, the room plunged into almost blinding darkness, all within the room now illuminated only by moonlight and everything and everyone – professor, student, Death Eater and Order member, alike – stopped.

A collective, deathly silence falling upon the room.

Time, itself, stopped with the death of Albus Dumbledore.

And all turned to look.

None – even Severus, himself – able to believe what had happened.

Severus could feel Lily's – _everyone's_ – eyes upon him but, still, he couldn't look at her.

But his eyes found Harry's – forgetting, for a moment, where he stood behind Dumbledore's now-lifeless form – and the look in his boy's eyes, Severus was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The silence was broken by an anguished cry of grief from Minerva – unrecognizable, almost inhuman – from the other side of the room, and it was quickly followed by a screech of triumph from Bellatrix, and then the voices sounded all at once – emotions heightened – and the battle resumed, even more ferocious than before.

The darkened room was filled once more with blinding flashes of light.

Severus looked at Regulus where he stood, exactly where Severus had told him to, the closest to him of all the other Order members.

Regulus slack-jawed and expression aghast when their eyes met.

But – at the same time – Severus could see that he _knew_.

Regulus knew why it had been done and he knew why Severus had sent him to Dumbledore's side – so that he _would_ be the closest, the Order member he would have to duel – and Severus waited, barely a second, before Regulus did as he must and fired a curse his way.

Severus fired back – no longer parrying as he had been before – and the two engaged one another, as brutally as either of them dared, matching one another blow for blow, with far more force than either had ever done in their offices while they had sparred this past year.

But they knew one another's moves well enough, now – able to read and anticipate the other – and so spell after spell after spell fired forth between them, flashes of light deflected this way and that, as they fought and moved, advancing and retreating, in the perfect appearance of true combat – if anyone had any doubt of Severus' loyalties, then _this_ would surely convince them – and Severus let out an 'oomph' as he was thrown backwards, striking the table behind hard enough to wind him.

Severus fired another, Regulus stumbling back, and when he did Severus caught sight of Harry and Malachi behind Regulus – watching the scene, absolutely flabbergasted – as red and purple and blue lights flashed between them, getting faster and faster, gathering up momentum.

The same way as they did in the offices.

Severus met Regulus' eyes and, when he did, he saw Regulus brace himself – knowing what was coming, for Severus had to win this one – while Severus fired forth the next, with all his might holding back the urge to pull his punch – hitting Regulus square in the chest with a yellow light that sent him flying rearwards to the back of the room – no mattress to break his fall this time – before he landed in a crash – Severus could hear a bone snap from where he stood – up behind the Professor's table.

"DAD!"

Severus spun around – fighting the urge to wait and ensure he hadn't actually just killed him – making to leave with the now retreating and rejoicing Death Eaters but was quickly engaged by an absolutely _furious_ Nymphadora Tonks, eyes flashing and face drawn with such determination that, for a moment, Severus could only see her mother.

Severus fought her when she proved merciless, unwilling to back off when he parried the first two spells, the two dueling, aggressively, until he hit her with a body-bind.

And when he turned, he came face to face with Lupin who looked just as furious, but also confused – not quite convinced by the display, it seemed – and Severus raised an eyebrow, flicking his wand and zapping a spell in his direction that Lupin deflected, for, _of course_ , Severus could count on the witlessness of _Remus-Bloody-Lupin_ to blow it all in these final moments.

The man didn't engage him.

Lupin only stared as Severus made his way past, heading from the Hall in a brisk walk, joining with the other Death Eaters, easily fighting off the spells that the others flung his way.

Lucius met his eyes looking both impressed and suspicious of him as Severus approached where the blond man stood at the door – for he was quite aware that Severus fathered Harry Potter's sister – but his old friend just smirked as he reached him, turning and the two of them walked side by side, joined by Bellatrix and Barty, and then Greyback, Alecto and Amycus.

The others were already well ahead, having already withdrawn.

"Come, Draco," Lucius' voice sounded beside Severus, as they stepped outdoors and he glanced to the side, seeing Lucius grasp his son by the scruff where Draco had been cowering outside the main doors to the Castle.

"No – I – I still have school –" Draco stuttered out, pulling back and trying to fight free of his father's grasp, while Lucius dragged him along.

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco."

Draco's eyes met Severus – glancing away within a millisecond – with a look no longer so haughty. No, instead – in that brief moment he had looked at Severus – he appeared utterly terrified, barely able to even maintain eye contact, as his father dragged him along at their side.

" _Severus_!"

He heard Minerva's voice screech behind him, and he turned, only just deflecting a spell she fired his way, with so much force that he stumbled back when he blocked it.

Mad-Eye followed on her heels, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore behind him, each of them continuing to fire spells – in pursuit of them – and the retreating Death Eaters turned and engaged, still carrying on in backwards steps from the grounds.

"Draco!"

Severus caught a glimpse of Draco slipping free from his father's grasp, running back in the direction of the Castle, dodging the spells that continued to fire between the two groups.

" _Draco_!"

There was a note of panic in Lucius' voice – one that Severus had never heard before – and Lucius made to step forward – to follow his son – but Draco ignored the calls of his father and shared a look with Minerva as he reached the door.

Minerva touched his shoulder, standing aside and the boy slipped indoors and out of sight.

Lucius roared, engaging the Order fighters who stood outside, ferociously – far more so that the rest of them - but all those who stood with him fired spells back at the few who had attempted to follow, until they eventually retreated back into the Castle, and the Death Eaters turned, striding from the grounds.

Victory theirs.

The Dark Mark still high in the sky above the Castle.


	81. December 1995: After the Fall

Snape killed Dumbledore.

 _Snape_ killed _Dumbledore._

No matter how many times Harry said in in his mind – over and over and over – he still couldn't make sense of it.

Each time he replayed the scene – Dumbledore standing fierce in front of him, suddenly falling to the ground, the room plunged into darkness – ending with Harry seeing that look in Snapes eyes, his breath would catch and he'd see something else.

He'd see a warm gaze, or feel a squeeze of his shoulder or a twitch of a smile and it couldn't – no matter how many times Harry had been fooled by him before – have all been a lie.

It couldn't have been.

Harry stood at the edge of the Gryffindor table, eyes upon the unmoving – almost peaceful – form of the Headmaster who had now been lain upon it.

Snape's eyes flashed before him. His little sister's smile. That sly look she'd get that Harry knew was from Snape.

And then his mum's grim face as she'd stepped up behind him – face flushed from the exertion of combat – and gently pulled him aside from where he and Malachi had been knelt over Mr. Black's unconscious form where he'd fallen, not meeting Harry's eyes nor saying a word, working in the same dazed state that Harry could feel himself in, now.

Ignoring – or simply immune – to the murmurs and whispers of those going on around where he stood in the middle of the Hall between the fallen – Professor Burbage's still form on the Hufflepuff table, in line with the Headmaster – the name 'Snape' hissed out with a venom that – even now, after _this_ – made Harry prickle with indignation on his behalf, fighting back against the odd, instinctive urge to defend the indefensible – the evidence lying still and dead before Harry's very eyes.

He'd _watched_ him die.

The Headmaster with his twinkling eyes and always a smile and a kind word for Harry, whenever their paths crossed, who had guided him and soothed his fears and doubts in those first two years of school.

Harry couldn't even mourn him – he couldn't feel the pain he ought to, seeing and knowing he was gone – because accepting that, allowing that, would mean to accept that Snape had actually killed him. And that was a truth that kept catching – unable to be swallowed – unable to be reconciled with all that Harry knew of him.

Several people were still gathered round, side by side with Harry, their eyes glimmering, some sobbing quietly onto the shoulders of those next to them, while those who still remained in the room – those who hadn't been called before the Ministry or departed for home – tended to the wounded, the volumes of their voices increasing as the minutes ticked on an hour past the battle.

There were groans and gasps filling the air as the last of the injuries were assessed and treated where they lay on the floor, amongst transfigured blankets, those that didn't have to be transferred to St Mungo's.

Harry swallowed, hard, his hands shaking as he took a backwards step and turned away – one of the last to leave Dumbledore's side – and he made his way back up to where Malachi and his mum were tending to Mr. Black at the rear of the room.

Harry noticed, with relief, that Malachi's dad was conscious, now, smiling and batting away his son's fussing.

"Dad, you're really hurt."

"No, no, I'm not –" Mr. Black said, from where he was laid on the floor, propped up on his arms, with his mum hovering over him and Malachi at his side, a fretful look on his face, one hand clutching his dad's arm and the other holding a cooling mitt to the side of his head, " – don't you worry, Son. I'm fi – AH!"

His mum shot an apologetic look Mr. Black's way, turning his leg a bit more gently by the ankle, before she lifted her wand – her hands not quite steady – and made a slow motion, cutting away the fabric of his trousers beneath his robes that were matted to the skin.

Harry and Malachi gaped at the wound in horror when his mum finally peeled the sodden fabric away.

"See," Mr. Black said, lightly, "Just a little break, is all. Easy fixed."

"It's a compound fracture," his mum said, carefully studying the injury.

"Healer talk," Mr. Black winked in the boys' direction.

Harry averted his eyes, sickened, unable to look at the blood and bone sticking out of Mr. Black's leg any longer, instead taking notice of his mum's shaking hands again and the grim set of her lips, as she went to lift her wand back up.

"Um, Lily," Mr. Black said, clearing his throat, and Harry noticed him eyeing her trembling hands with an unease that he hadn't exhibited even when he and Snape had actually been trying to kill one another, "Perhaps Madam Pomfrey – ah," he broke off at the look his mum shot him, "Nevermind. Nevermind."

Mr. Black glanced away, almost visibly bracing himself, before he met Harry's eyes, and the man quickly attempted to conceal his nervousness and shot a reassuring smile Harry's way, which looked far more like a grimace to him.

"Little pinch," his mum said.

Mr. Black raised his eyes to the ceiling – as if that might hide his apprehension at letting Harry's – clearly emotionally overwrought – mum lift her wand to him – lips pursed shut and waiting, as she swished it over the wound and started to mutter some incantations.

It took less than a minute, before his mum drew back, "All set."

Mr. Black glanced back down, releasing a breath and looking relieved just to find that his leg was still there – healed or not – and gave his mum a smile, "Much obliged."

He slowly flexed his knee and then turned his ankle with a wince.

"You'll need to rest it for a couple of days," his mum told him, "Julia will keep you right."

Mr. Black chuckled, fondly, at that, "Oh, I'm sure she will."

He turned his smile upon Malachi, while Harry's mum continued to check the rest of him over, "See that, Beansprout! Good as new!"

Malachi eyed him appraisingly, looking at first pleased – a brief, small smile – and then annoyed.

"Dad –" Malachi tossed the cooling mitt he'd been holding aside, "Dad, _why_ did you attack _Severus_?"

Mr. Black shifted, eyes going to Dumbledore before meeting his mum's eyes briefly – the look shared so fleeting that Harry almost missed it – and then he cleared his throat.

"Well, I would've thought that was obvious –"

"That was so _stupid,_ Dad! He is a _way_ better fighter than you are –"

Mr. Black's eyebrows lifted.

" – and he's your best friend! You didn't even give him a chance to explain! When Harry attacked me I knew it wasn't really _him_ –"

Harry looked at Malachi sharply.

" – and _obviously_ Severus isn't really working with Vold –"

"That's enough, Son. Have some –" he cleared his throat, lightly, "– respect."

"No, he's right!" Harry exclaimed, seizing on the _only_ possible explanation for what had just happened, "He must have been _possessed_ or something, like I was!"

Mr. Black and his mum shared another look, uneasy this time.

Harry shook his head, knowing it sounded utterly ridiculous – but _not_ as ridiculous as it was that Snape had actually just willingly killed Dumbledore – and it _had_ happened to him.

Harry had been possessed and almost killed _Malachi_ that summer – someone who he would die, himself, before hurting – and he tried so, so hard not to think about the fact that there was no way it was Voldemort looking back at him when Snape had met his eyes over the Headmaster's lifeless form, seconds after he'd done it.

Desperate to cling to the lifeline that Malachi had just given him.

But Harry knew he'd been looking at Snape.

Not sarcastic, snarky, stoic Snape of years past, but the one he knew _now_ , who was warmer, somehow, and a little less guarded and whose eyes would dance with amusement at Harry's jokes.

There had been none of that in the man's eyes, the moment Harry had looked at him, no – they'd been guarded, again, almost blank, the way he did when he was hiding – but he'd caught it, a little flash of pain, and they certainly weren't _triumphant_ , or sneering or rejoicing in victory at what he had done.

"Mum," Harry grabbed his mum's arm and she met his eyes for the first time since it had happened – the first time she'd looked at anyone except Mr. Black – and _her_ eyes weren't guarded or blank – Harry could see the grief in them – but surely she _knew._

"Mum, Snape wouldn't _do_ that!" he asserted, unable to believe what he'd seen, "He wouldn't – it must have been the Imperius – all those leaflets the Ministry's been handing out, about Imperiused people doing crazy things and to watch out for them – Voldemort, must have –"

Harry was suddenly drawn into his mum's arms, her lips against his ear, shushing him.

Harry clung to her, brow lowered, because this didn't feel like a hug meant for comfort. A thought that was only cemented further when he heard her whisper, "Stop. Don't."

Harry frowned, still held tight in his mum's arms, and it became an embrace, then, that he realised his mum needed.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, holding her, and his eyes went over her shoulder, finding Mr. Black looking at Dumbledore; a contemplative little furrow on his brow, as if he were figuring something out.

Harry realised, then, with the looks that Mr. Black and his mum were sharing and the _silence_ – the total lack of commentary either were making – they, Snape's best friend and his wife, kind-of, not saying a word or exchanging a single question between them about what had just happened – this great betrayal – and Harry realised that they must surely _know_ something.

Something Harry didn't.

Something that would make all of this make sense.

Harry drew back, meeting her eyes.

"Mum, what's going on?"

But his mum looked just as lost as he felt.

Harry swallowed, adding more quietly, "What about _Grace_?"

Because he _knew_ that even if he had been fooled about how Snape might feel about _him_ , there was no lie in the way he'd melted in those memories with his little sister.

"And…and us? He…he wouldn't."

His mum caressed his cheek, opening her mouth as if to speak – maybe, even, to reassure him – but before she could Mr. Black said, lowly, "Boys, not a word."

Harry's eyes left his mum, glancing at him and noticed Mr. Black was mustering up a smile at people who were approaching from behind where Harry stood.

Tonks and Remus stepped up beside him just as he started to turn, both of them looking concerned – Remus far more so, Harry noticed, when he glanced at his mum – but Tonks was the first to speak.

"You alright, Uncle Reg? He got you good."

"Can't get rid of me that easily, Sweetheart."

"Well, he'll get what's coming to him," Tonks said, while Remus shifted, looking a little uncomfortable at her side, before she went on, "Ministry Aurors have got a lead on 'em. Death Eaters had a defector of their own tonight; Draco Malfoy."

Mr. Black straightened up where he sat, "Is he alright?"

"Bit shaken. Mad-Eye wanted him interrogated right away but he's underage, so he's entitled to a representative in with him. I offered but he wasn't interested."

Mr. Black inclined his chin, getting a wry smile, easily picking up on her hint, "Well, if he doesn't want _you_ , he certainly isn't going to be wanting me."

Tonks smiled at him.

"He's asked for you."

Mr. Black got a fleeting look of surprise, before he shifted, and Malachi helped him to his feet.

"Where are they?"

"Professor McGonagall's office."

Mr. Black gave Malachi a smile and his shoulder a squeeze, before he headed across the hall – with a slight limp he tried to conceal – and Harry noticed him looking at Dumbledore again as he passed, before he left the room.

Harry's mum straightened back up, getting to her feet from where she'd been crouched, brushing off her robes and avoiding Remus' attempts to catch her eye.

"Gotta say you held yourself great out there, Harry," Tonks said to him, giving him one of her smiles that were hard not to return, despite the heaviness of what had just happened weighing upon him.

"Oh, well, Malachi helped – "

"Excuse me, I think there's more – um – wounded –" his mum said, not waiting for a response and heading away, leaving him and Malachi with Remus and Tonks.

"Someone in my team's taking credit for you joining us when this whole school business is done and dusted, he says?" Tonks asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Harry smiled a little, nodding, remembering the over-zealous auror who'd tried to recruit him earlier that summer, "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"Glad to hear that, could use someone like you out on the field. Right Remus?"

Remus started – his eyes having been following his mum – and Harry noticed that she was walking out of the Hall completely, making a conscious effort not to look at anyone as she left.

Remus shifted, drawing Harry's attention back to him, and he gave Harry a warm smile, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

"You were outstanding, Harry. _Both_ of you were," Remus said, giving Malachi a smile, before he leaned forward towards them, raising an eyebrow, "Even if I _did_ tell you to run."

Harry and Malachi chuckled a little, sharing a look, and then Harry's eyes were drawn to Dumbledore again and he wondered if, maybe, he should have.

Maybe then he wouldn't have seen it.

Remus patted his shoulder and then he stepped away – giving Tonks a smile and her arm a squeeze – before he left without giving an excuse, while Tonks continued to engage Harry and Malachi in conversation, and Harry listened closely – to all that she said – hoping her voice could drown out the words that were carrying through the hall now and making his blood run cold.

How Severus Snape had betrayed them all and murdered Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Lily stumbled out into the darkness – the dead of the night – unable to listen to any more of what was being said amongst those in the Castle.

But even there, in the courtyard, people were moving around, whispers and murmurs filling the air – some tearful, some venomous – as all tried to make sense of what had happened.

She heard Severus' name whispered on the wind, followed by You-Know-Who, Dumbledore and _murderer_ , as she made her way down the pavement in a daze, not even sure where she was going.

Not sure about anything at all.

Unable to bear the lost, devastated look in her son's eyes as he turned them upon her, begging for answers that she didn't have to give.

It was quieter at the back of the courtyard and it was tempting to keep going – to just keep walking – but she ducked into the furthest alcove, drawn in by the shadows.

Her breaths came out unsteady as she reached up, pressing her hands to her face, and tried as hard as she could to steady her thoughts.

Severus' words from earlier that evening came back to her.

_I have to do something…you will know when it happens..._

_Say nothing. Trust me._

Lily called on that – on faith – and pushed aside anything that may lead her to doubt or question.

Tried, hard as she could, not to think about the fact that Albus Dumbledore had but weeks ago threatened the life of their son – remembering Severus' other words from earlier that night – asserting that they must work together, all of them united, in spite of the fact.

And Lily remembered, in a flash, how Dumbledore had met Severus' eyes and hadn't fought back.

_She turned, as spells fired forth around her, taking her eyes from her opponent for only a second when they stumbled, backwards, having sensed Severus pass by her._

_Sensing his stillness a few feet ahead._

_She saw the look – the warmth in the Headmaster's eyes – but, even then, she had been unable to read or understand or know what was going on and Severus drew on him so quickly – the spell fired forth in an instant of him stopping in his steps – that Lily barely realised it had happened._

_The room suddenly plunged into darkness as Dumbledore's lifeless body hit the floor._

_It was only the darkness that fell upon them that spared her from her own opponent, the Death Eater she fought rendered as immobile as she – as all in the room had become – in the moments that followed._

_And, then, the battle resumed and Lily watched Regulus –_ Regulus – _fire a spell forth and he and Severus quickly engaged in a duel with such ferocity that, had she not known them as well as she did, she would most certainly be fooled._

But she did know them.

The immediate violent exchange between Severus and Regulus – which was so convincing to others – had been more reassuring to her, than anything, for it was certainly part of a plan – one she was apparently not aware of – for she knew – just as well as Malachi, his son – that Regulus would not be so foolish as to just attack without question.

Not when all others who cared for and loved him – unable to reconcile what had just happened with what they knew of him – were suddenly plagued with doubt, even Remus refusing to engage with him.

Lily touched her forehead to the stone wall of the alcove, the thought that they may have just planned it all – Severus and Albus and Regulus – and had known that this was to be done, only lifted the slightest of weight away for it still left behind the reality.

That Albus Dumbledore was dead and Severus Snape had killed him.

And that was all anyone was to know.

And now, Severus was gone, taking a place in the shadows, amongst enemies – enemies on all sides, now – and Lily fought back a sob, that released itself in a strangled gasp from her throat, as she wondered how on earth he – any one of them – were ever going to be able to come back from this.

How Severus could even survive it.

"Lily."

Lily froze, eyes still closed, her back to the person – the familiar voice – and she shook her head.

"I'm okay, Remus."

Neither of them said anything – Lily waiting for the sound of retreating footsteps that didn't come – until, knowing he wasn't going to leave, Lily drew in a trembling breath, and wiped at a tear that had managed to slip free, before she turned to face him.

She hadn't known what to expect.

If it would be revulsion at her grief for a man whom all around them continued to call a traitor and a murderer; a triumph in his eyes that he had been right all along, that theirs was a relationship doomed to only bring heartache; or, perhaps, just a knowing pity that they had been fighting for a future he had told her would never be worth it.

Instead, Lily was met with concern and warmth in Remus' eyes when they met hers and she could see it in him, too. A doubt – a confusion – an uncertainty and a tiny bit of _something_ that could only be there from knowing who Severus truly was.

Someone who had already seen all that he had given up and all that he had been willing to do on behalf of his family and this war.

Giving away every bit of himself, piece by piece, for them.

And how he would not – could not – throw it all away now.

Remus stepped towards her, his hand going to her arm, and his voice quiet, "I don't know what the hell that was, Lily. But…"

Remus broke off.

And then he shook his head, turning to what he _did_ know instead.

"I know you can't be okay."

Lily released a breath, eyes closing once more, and she crumbled then – saying nothing, as Severus had told her not to – and Remus stepped in closer, drawing her into his arms, and held her as she wept for him.

* * *

Draco sat in the chair on the guest side of the desk in Professor McGonagall's office, eyes on the floor, as Regulus stepped into the room.

His little cousin didn't look up at him as he approached, ignoring the searing burn in his leg with each step, and Regulus tried to lower himself into the chair beside him without looking too grateful to be back off his feet.

The two of them sat there in silence, Regulus giving him the chance to speak first.

Draco drew in a breath, not meeting his eyes when he finally did.

"My mum –" he broke off, his voice shaky, before he went on, a little more certainly, "My mum said that you're a fool. And that if we went with you, we'd be as good as dead."

Draco's voice broke on the last word and he looked down at his hands, palms pressed together where they were in a vice-grip between his knees.

"So, she made us stay. But…"

Draco drew in a breath, meeting Regulus' eyes.

"I'd rather be dead."

The look in his little cousin's eyes was haunted – broken – a look far too familiar, that made Regulus' stomach tighten and a lump rise in his throat.

He pushed it down, his hand going to the boy's shoulder, "Well. _That_ is just not an option."

Draco looked at him, searchingly, as if unable to believe someone were offering him kindness.

"She's dead," Draco whispered, his eyes brimming, "Mum's dead. She died and no one cared."

Regulus squeezed his shoulder.

"I cared. I loved your mum, Draco."

A tear slipped down Draco's cheek and Regulus leaned forward, meaning to comfort him, but the door swung open in a slam and Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, strode into the room, unapologetically, shooting a contemptuous glance Draco's way as took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"So, Draco Malfoy," Scrimgeour said, not even looking at him as he adjusted the chair to his liking, "And Regulus Black –" he said it without any hint of warmth, whatsoever, "I hear your cousin is seeking safeguard from his own self-professed Lord. Well. What can you give us that would make such a waste of our current time and resources worth it, boy?"

Regulus straightened up, "He is a minor, Scrimgeour. A child. And he has yet to commit any…crimes –" he hesitated on the statement, not entirely sure if that was true, " – against those who fight on the side of ours."

"Is that right, hm?" Scrimgeour looked unforgivingly at Draco, before then turning to Regulus, eyeing him.

"You may have Barty and my aurors wrapped around your finger, Mr. Black, but make no mistake that when I am Minister, I will remember the day that you saw fit to start harbouring Death Eaters."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, the hand that had been on Draco's shoulder going to the back of the chair his cousin sat upon, staying close as Scrimgeour leaned back in his chair, still eyeing Regulus appraisingly.

"Years and years of deception. Quite the _feat_ your dear friend, Severus Snape, has pulled off tonight, wouldn't you say?"

"No friend of mine."

Regulus' free hand rubbed his thigh, in over-the-top indication to his now totally-fine leg, but Scrimgeour followed the motion with his eyes, no doubt already aware from the reports he would have received on his arrival as to what had occurred between himself and Severus in the aftermath of Albus' death.

An altercation orchestrated by Severus – a fight to the, apparent, death – that Regulus knew to be for his own benefit, as well as Severus' – covering _both_ their backs with those they answered to – should he face suspicion and accusations such as this one.

Scrimgeour's eyes went to Draco.

"Now. Your _crimes_ , first, Mr. Malfoy. Before we discuss your… _wishes_."

"I – um…" Draco swallowed, nervously, "I…I took his Mark –"

"Let me see it."

Draco did, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt.

Scrimgeour eyed it, this new rumoured truth that had been going about since those captured at New Year had been discovered sporting the very same marking on their arms, that _all_ Death Eaters shared this Mark – this dark magic – that linked them all to their master.

Regulus caught the way Scrimgeour's eyes glanced from Draco's to Regulus'covered arm behind his cousin, contemplatively, but the man stopped short of asking him to show him whether or not he, too, bore this Mark.

A question – due to prior ignorance – that had never been asked of him by any of those in authority once before.

Because all already _knew_ what he had been, even if they had never found proof, and few had ever been inclined to do so, in recent years.

Wrapped around his finger, as Scrimgeour put it.

Scrimgeour held Regulus' eyes for a moment – an obvious threat in them – before he turned his eyes back to Draco. Seeming to decide against throwing the founder of the Foundation – that was currently standing strong with Ministry in drawing upon the opposition to Voldemort – back into Azkaban.

Morale checked enough, this night, by the death of Albus Dumbledore.

For now, at least.

"Go on."

"And I…I helped my father tonight. To get into the Castle."

"Explain."

Draco did. Telling in most incriminating detail how he and Lucius had connected the two Vanishing Cabinets, creating a pathway through which the Death Eaters had successfully managed to infiltrate Hogwarts and murder two professors – one Albus Dumbledore, no less – and injure countless more, while children fearfully listened and watched, where possible, from their dormitories.

"Yet to commit any crimes," Scrimgeour repeated Regulus' words, slowly, when Draco finished up his story, but his eyes remained entirely on the boy before him, who trembled, looking as though all hope was lost, before he went on, "You have certainly served your master well. And, so, I ask; what can you give _us_ , Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco drew in a nervous breath, his voice almost stuttering, when he said, "I – I know where Astoria Greengrass is."

Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows.

Draco nodded, his confidence bolstered by the man's interest, while Regulus felt himself become slightly uneasy, before his cousin went on, his unease increasing with each statement he made.

"I know where they _all_ are. There's a few places they hide out but only one after a big victory like this. They'll all be there. My father. The Dark Lord. _Snape_ –"

Regulus almost flinched, Scrimgeour's eyes carefully upon him at the name, before turning back to Draco, raising an eyebrow that he go on.

"Malfoy Manor."

Scrimgeour sat very still for a moment, contemplating the information, and then he got to his feet, striding to the door.

He flung it open, pointing a finger at where Regulus and Draco sat as he addressed the guarding aurors on the other side of the threshold; "Eyes on these two at all times."

The two aurors stepped into the room as Scrimgeour left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Regulus turned his back to them, where they took up spots on either side of the doorframe, the hand on the back of Draco's chair reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

A silent word spoken to the deities, that Severus still had his wits about him, when the Ministry Aurors came down upon them at the Manor.

* * *

Severus vomited, on his knees, retching violently in the pristine washroom of the accommodations that had been granted to him in the Manor, barely able to muster up the necessary silencing charm as he'd stumbled into the room, bile rising and his hands clammy and shaking.

He had barely held it together, once the adrenaline of battle had worn off, and they had arrived – summoning the Dark Lord with the joint press of their fingers to their Marks – the more, the stronger the call – all aware that tonight was a night for celebration.

A night they need not fear the Dark Lord's presence.

Other than, of course, Lucius, who had sought an audience immediately – but had been told to wait, cast aside and _ignored_ , one of his most devoted, and then ' _crucioed'_ when he had attempted to insist – as their master sought to heap praise upon Severus in front of all and speak of his grand ambitions, delighting in Dumbledore's much sought for demise.

Severus had put on a good show – if he did say so, himself – of appreciating the praise and the admiration and awe of his 'brothers', as they stood in place before the Dark Lord; as he rejoiced in his Death Eaters' success until he'd finally dismissed them.

Now, though, alone, on his hands and knees on the marble floor, Severus could hold it together no longer.

Haunted by the calm blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore – he, the last person to see the life in them – and the green eyes of Harry Potter, so full of betrayal and grief and confusion – his hurt palpable in that one glance they had shared.

Severus touched his forehead to the floor, when his retching finally stopped, his breaths coming in gasps.

Sobs, he realised, unable to be controlled.

He knew not how long he crouched there.

It could have been minutes. Hours. _Days_ even, before he heard the sounds of disturbance outside the door to the hallway.

A crash.

Yells.

The obvious sound of scuffle. Of battle.

Severus quickly pulled himself together, getting to his feet, swishing his wand and cleaning up the mess he'd made of the room, just as he heard the sound of the door to his own room bang open.

Severus composed himself – drawing on a strength he didn't know he had left – and gripped his wand tight as he stepped out of the washroom.

Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, face of thunder as he spat his name.

"Snape."

Vaguely behind the auror, Severus could hear the voices of the others – the shrieks of battle, the spells being fired, the arrests being made – and he lifted his chin, staring down his own opponent.

Fantastic.

The _cherry_ on top of an already _glorious_ night.

That after finally carrying out the deed he had been deliberating for months – unable to bear even the thought of it – he should _still_ end up rotting in Azkaban, useless to the fight he and his loved ones so desperately needed won.

Moody fired first.

Severus blocked it, and the adrenaline hit, then – fuelled by grief and hate and his determination that he would _not_ allow all that he had done, such dreadful acts, to be have been committed in vain – and he fought as if his life – the lives of all those he loved – depended on it.

For they _did_.

The spells fired between them mercilessly, Severus struck once, twice, by spells meant to wound rather than kill – slices on his arm, his shoulder, that he had been unable to deflect – but neither cut as deep as the words that slipped past Moody's lips.

"Coward."

A flash of purple.

" _Murderer_."

Severus fought back – driven on by the grief that swelled up within him – and then he blasted out the glass of the window behind him, running and jumping from it, the room high enough that he just had the time to cast a levitation charm to break his fall and he hit the ground running – noticing other Death Eaters doing the same – as they fled the Manor, deep into the night.

Spells fired from the windows on their heels, striking the ground all around them, as those who could made their escape.

* * *

Harry stared at the door to Snape's office.

The office he'd been coming to, so often, it could have been almost every night this term, without a worry or a care or a suspicion that the man on the other side of it didn't care for him. For his mum. For his sister.

That they weren't family.

That Snape fought with them – for them – and Harry swallowed, as the memories of their time this past year came back to him.

Snape sitting with him at his mum's bedside, assuring him he was not to blame for what had happened to her.

Harry running into Snape's office, finally admitting to himself that he cared, and begging Snape not to die. To always come back to them.

Snape's brutal honesty when he'd confessed to being responsible for delivering the prophecy and then the conviction in his assertion that Harry was not alone. That he would be there, with him, for whatever was to come his way.

How terrible Snape had looked all summer when he'd come to the house – insistent that Harry's occlumency, his means of protecting himself, continue – and how he'd batted away any concern Harry had for his wellbeing, in turn.

The first time he'd smiled at him, when Harry had agreed to his plan, to work with him to strengthen himself, to make him _better_ , in every way Snape knew he could help.

The first time he'd let him see pain, when his memories of Grace were revealed to him.

The time he'd held Harry close, saying he was sorry – and Harry knew he'd meant it – his voice harsh with a raw emotion that Harry had never heard from him, before.

Harry's lip trembled and he realised he was standing in the middle of the Slytherin corridors near tears, waiting for his girlfriend, where anyone could see him.

Crying for a man who everyone – _everyone –_ that morning was branding a traitor, wishing for his death, his torture, his torment, while Harry could only sit there and will it all to be a lie, a nightmare, something that Voldemort was sending into this mind because he couldn't bear any of this to be the truth.

Harry turned away, making his way up the stairs, knowing he couldn't be seen like this.

Whether Snape was on their side or not, Harry could not be seen crying for him.

He swiped at his eyes, finding it easier to get himself under control when he was in the entrance lobby, where memories were scarce and the hustle and bustle of everyone getting collected to head home from school for the holidays was happening.

Parents had been told they may collect their children early – many appearing before dawn, having learned of the battle and desperate check upon them – should they not be one of the students wishing to remain for the holidays, classes now suspended for the last few days of term.

Harry saw Malachi standing up ahead, by the closed doors of the Great Hall and Harry wondered, with a sickening jolt, if the reason it was closed off was because Dumbledore and Professor Burbage were still in there.

He walked up to Malachi where he stood, noticing his eyes were lingering on Luna Lovegood – a familiar longing in his gaze – where she was standing outside the main doors in the courtyard, swaying slightly, obviously waiting for her father.

Harry glanced at him, "You not gonna say bye?"

Malachi kept his eyes on her.

Slowly, he shook his head. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"You saw how she kept coming at me."

Harry swallowed. Remembering the battle – the insane woman – who had targeted Malachi, throwing Killing Curses at him, at every opportunity.

"They were coming at me, too."

Malachi drew in a breath, shaking his head, his eyes still on Luna.

"They want to hurt my dad. They don't want him dead. They want him broken. They'll break anyone and everyone they can, just to do that," Malachi glanced down, "Nowhere's safe. Not even Hogwarts."

Harry looked at his best friend, unable to give him any words of reassurance that he was wrong because Harry knew what Malachi had said was true.

And truth – blatant, honest, simple truths – weren't something to be pushed away.

Harry reached out squeezing Malachi's arm, noticing Mr. Black approaching and coming in the main doors, "I'll see you soon, alright?"

Malachi smiled, giving him a nod, before he stepped towards him, hugging Harry tight, and Harry knew it wasn't for himself – for Malachi – that he'd done it, and he accepted the comfort, hugging him in turn.

And then Malachi stepped away from him, heading for his dad, who gave him a warm smile – a bit more subdued, this time, than their usual reunions, no doubt accounting for the fact they'd fought for their lives, side-by-side, less than twelve hours before – and he threw an arm around his son, drawing him close and pressing a kiss to his head, before the two of them walked from the Castle.

Harry watched the scene, his own heart heavy, tears prickling his eyes.

Thought of Snape, again, unable to help it.

"Hey."

Harry glanced to the side, seeing Daphne there, and he forced a smile, "Hi."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in close, not saying anything.

Daphne just held him, and Harry realised she had been worried – she'd obviously heard the stories of what had happened, that he'd been there – and he drew her closer, burying his own face into her shoulder.

They stood like that for a while, Harry didn't know or care how long for, before he slowly drew back, just far enough to lean his forehead to hers and explain.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly, "I have to go home for Christmas. My…my mum –"

"It's okay," she nodded, eyes full of understanding, "Of course you do."

Harry gave her a small smile. She understood even when she knew nothing of the truth. The dreadful truth of his life and the lies and the secrets and betrayals and he looked into her eyes, seeking the light that was in them, for as long as he could.

And then something over her shoulder caught his attention.

Harry frowned, "Oh. Are you going home too?"

Daphne drew back, frowningly, also, "What?"

"Isn't that your dad?"

Daphne turned to look and, as she did, another person stepped out from behind Elijah Greengrass.

Daphne's eyes widened, taking in the sight of the girl who had come with him.

Astoria.

Daphne's voice was a whisper, "Tori."

Astoria smiled at her from where she stood but – even from this distance – Harry could tell she didn't look great. Thinner. Her clothes filthy. The sparkle in her eyes not there, her smile not quite meeting them.

And they glimmered as she looked at Daphne across the room.

Daphne stepped out of Harry's arms, hurrying across the room to her sister, reaching her quickly and the two of them looked at one another – Daphne's hands on either side of her sister's face – before they gave small, laughing sobs and hugged tightly in the lobby.

Harry smiled as he watched them. Another family reunited.

Swallowed the lump in his throat.

He waited there another ten minutes – Daphne turning, smiling her goodbyes to him, before she left with her father and sister, not bothering to pack or take anything with her – before Remus came to his side, hand placed gently upon his shoulder, and when Harry met his eyes there was the same understanding in them that Daphne's had.

An unconditional affection, regardless of the fact neither knew what was really going on, and Harry leaned into him, letting him wrap an arm around his shoulders, and the two of them headed on their way, Remus taking him back to the house.

Home.

And Harry tried to push away the dread he felt at going back there.

Going back to the home that he shared with Snape and all of the memories and hopes for the future – that could now never be – that just being trapped in those four walls would bring.

* * *

"Tell me about Hogwarts, Harry," Grace insisted, becoming impatient at Harry's refusal to engage with her, while the three of them sat at the dinner table.

Harry met his little sister's eyes, reluctantly, unable to help but notice – again – how much she looked like her dad when she was annoyed.

The very same look of Snape's that just haunted him now.

Harry looked away from her, back at his plate, "Um. Everyone misses you, Grace. Said it's not the same without you."

"Even Professor Snape?" Grace asked, delightedly, her tone full of hope.

Harry stabbed at the piece of chicken on his plate, "Even him."

"I miss him too!" Grace announced, turning her eyes to their mum, to Harry's relief, speaking to her next, "Professor Snape was my favourite teacher, Mummy. He made Potions too. Like Daddy."

Harry noticed his mum's attempt at a smile falter, her hand not quite steady when she reached up, brushing the hair back from Grace's forehead.

His mum didn't say anything.

Harry had been home a full day and a half, already, and still his mum hadn't said anything.

Harry didn't either.

They just walked around in almost complete silence, neither of them addressing the massive hippogriff in the room – that Snape had _killed_ Dumbledore – pretending as if nothing was even wrong.

But there were no smiles.

No laughter.

No joy whatsoever in their home, without Snape there.

Despite the fact that Snape had never truly ever been _there_ with them, in the first place.

Harry felt it – a loss, deep in his gut that he couldn't shake – every time he looked at his little sister's face, or at the door to the basement he dare not go near now, or at the stupid chairs at the table, remembering the mortifying incident with Snape and his mum in the summer.

Harry abruptly got to his feet, ignoring Grace's protest that he hadn't finished his dinner – his mum piping up, a rare moment of actual vocalisation, that he hadn't eaten anything – and left the table. Left the room and went upstairs, to his bedroom, tossed his glasses onto the nightstand and laid down on the bed, face buried in his pillow.

Harry felt stupid for not believing in him.

And then felt stupid when he _did_.

Flipping back and forth, unable to make sense of what he had seen and what he knew; evidence of his care for them and evidence of his betrayal, so conflicting that it was impossible for him to understand it.

Unable to reconcile _betrayal_ with the man he'd come to know and to…

Harry could cry there, he realised, and no one would wonder why.

His mum had surely cried for Snape.

Even if they shouldn't.

It was just another secret.

That was just their life.

Harry sniffed as his tears came, the sounds muffled, his shoulders shaking.

Allowed himself to just feel what he was feeling and not let anyone or anything tell him that he shouldn't feel it. That he should never have cared or let himself trust or let himself hope, and he remembered how it had happened every time.

Every time he had trusted Snape, something worse had happened.

" _I trusted you…Every time I think that I can, or that I do, you do something crazy."_

Harry pressed his face tighter into his pillow, remembering the words.

Every time Harry trusted Snape; he did something crazy.

Things like erasing Grace's memories.

Or chopping off people's hands to revive Voldemort.

Though, in light of recent events, the behanding no longer seemed quite so shocking.

But.

For them.

It was always for them.

Harry drew in a trembling breath at the thought.

That maybe – for some reason – he had killed Dumbledore _for_ them.

But even that thought made Harry's blood run cold.

That _that_ might be the reality of their life and the things they were going to have to do.

The war wasn't over yet.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently tugging him, so that he'd turn, and Harry did, rolling to meet his mum's eyes where she was sat on the edge of his bed.

Her own eyes were red and shined with unshed tears – her chin lifting, slightly – and Harry slowly sat up, surprised that she had come.

That, maybe, they were going to talk.

His mum just looked at him at first, reaching up and brushing away the wetness on his cheek with her thumb.

"Sweetheart," she whispered.

"I don't understand," Harry shook his head, "I…I don't know if it's stupid that I don't want to believe it. I was there and I saw him, like everyone else did. So it's silly of me, now, to keep trying to come up with excuses because it's just me believing what I want to believe, right?"

His mum shook her head, lips pursed together, as Harry went on.

"Everyone else thinks he's guilty. That he's a traitor but…that just doesn't make any sense. I know what I saw but it doesn't make any sense. And I'm scared to even talk about it because – because what if he is still with us and I give it all away. What if _he_ sees me thinking about it and…and I know that's why you and Mr. Black kept stopping me and Malachi from saying his name. Because he might look. So…do you know something? Something you can't tell me? Just nod or something, if I'm right and that he's still good."

His mum drew in a breath, caressing his cheek, and she shook her head again.

"I only know what you do, Sweetheart. Who he is. And who he's fighting for."

His mum drew in a breath, and saying quietly, whispered, almost, as if the words were something forbidden.

"You are right. He loves us. So much. Everything he does is for us. But yes; we _can't_ talk about it."

Harry nodded and his fingers went to his scar.

His mum reached up, taking his hand, drawing it away from his forehead and squeezing it, tight.

"We just have to trust him. Have faith and be brave."

Harry stared back at her.

"I did trust him."

He lowered his eyes for a second, thinking about it, before he met his mum's eyes again, frowningly, when he realised.

"I _do_ trust him."

That was why none of this made any sense.

Because of all that he had seen of him, all that Snape had _let_ him see, trusting Harry to know – despite the undeniable truth before him – he _still_ trusted Snape.

He was just stupid, maybe.

Maybe they both were.

But Snape…he'd never let them down before.

His mum smiled at him before her chin dipped and Harry saw she was still trying to hold back the tears he had noticed when she'd arrived.

Trying to be strong for him.

Harry shook his head.

"Mum."

Harry moved in closer, sliding his arms around her, and holding her tight.

His mum didn't fight him, leaning upon him, and the two of them allowed the tears – of both of them – to fall.


	82. December 1995: United We Stand

"Have you heard anything from him?"

Regulus glanced at Lily across the kitchen counter at her question, shaking his head.

Lily swallowed, eyes lowering, trying not to become too panicked by the fact it had been almost a week since the Battle of Hogwarts – since five of goodness knows how many more Death Eaters had been rounded up following the raid on Malfoy Manor and thrown into Azkaban – and, despite knowing Severus was not one of those five, neither had heard so much as a peep from or about him.

Other than the on-going new articles in the Prophet that continued to make reference to his treachery, at any and all available opportunity.

"Regulus –" Lily started, before he met her eyes, "Did he _say_ anything to you? Before it happened?"

Regulus shook his head.

Lily glanced at the staircase that led upstairs – where Harry and Grace slept soundly in their beds – before she went on, quietly, despite the fact she'd cast the _'muffliato'_ charm.

"He came to me before the battle," she told him, uncertain if she even should, "He told me…he told me that he was going to have to do something – this – and that … that we all have to be united in this fight."

Regulus kept his eyes on her, considering the information – the tiny bit she had to share – before he nodded, opening up on what he knew.

"He orchestrated the fight we had. No doubt so that his defection would look as resounding as possible, from the Foundation as well as Hogwarts. But he said nothing of whatever it was he is planning. Certainly not that it was a premeditated event. But then, he couldn't. Not if what I think happened, happened."

"What do you think happened?"

Regulus was visibly hesitant, saying nothing for a moment, as he shifted where he stood, eyes on the countertop, before he finally went on. In one of his rare, serious tones that Lily only occasionally heard from him.

"Lily, I've known and worked with both of them for close to two decades now. Before he asked you to become involved in seeking out Slughorn – it was Dumbledore who hunted the horcruxes with me. You were never with me but you've heard –" Regulus cleared his throat, glancing away, "I've told you the various ways by which they are protected. Dumbledore was with me for the first three. The diadem. The ring…The locket," Regulus bit his bottom lip, raising his eyebrows, not looking at her when he went on, "And…there were things he asked me to do to him. Things that I…"

Lily kept her eyes on him, considering the words, the way he broke off – seeming unable to say, or even think, about what Dumbledore had asked of him and what he had seen while with him – and she nodded, slowly, when she realized he had wondered the same as she.

A thought that she hadn't been entirely convinced wasn't crazy.

"You think Albus _ordered_ Severus to kill him."

Regulus met her eyes and she knew, when she looked into those grey haunted ones opposite, that it was exactly what he was thinking. What he seemed to think he knew.

"I think there is very few things that either of them wouldn't be willing to sacrifice to win this war. Their own lives and souls –" Regulus lifted his shoulders, " – I doubt either would consider those too high a price to pay for the ones they mean to protect and love."

Lily nodded, slowly, mulling the statement.

Regulus, himself, had just a few months ago asked her for help with the very same thing. Asked her to try and help him find a way to sever the bloodline between himself and his son so that he, too, could give his all he could, including his life, to the fight.

Dumbledore would too.

And Severus.

The creak of the stairs – soft footsteps on the carpet – drew both their attention to the far side of the room, just as Grace stepped off the bottom step, making her way towards the living room.

Lily lifted the muffliato charm; "Excuse me, young lady."

Grace jumped, spinning round to see them, where they stood in the dark in the middle of the night.

"Mummy."

Lily raised an eyebrow, unable to help a little smile that formed at her daughter's innocently, sheepish expression – one that only just concealed a little gleam of excitement that was underlying in her eyes – as she looked back at her.

"What do you think you're doing out of bed at this time of night?"

"I was looking for Father Christmas, Mummy," Grace pointed at the living room door, as if keen to go and look, "It's Christmas Eve so he might have come!"

"I don't think he's been yet, Sweetheart."

Grace frowned, crossing her arms as she approached where they stood, "How come Mr. Black is here? You'll scare Santa away if you're both not sleeping. Remember, you said we have to be in bed asleep or he won't come."

Lily smiled while Regulus chuckled, stepping towards her daughter and kneeling in front of her, "You are quite right, Sweetheart. I have _far_ outstayed my welcome."

He reached behind Grace's ear and when he drew his hand back, he held up a coin.

Grace grinned and made to take it.

"Ah ah!" Regulus held up a finger and the coin transfigured into a sprig of holly, making Grace's grin widen as she carefully plucked it from his fingers by the stem, "Merry Christmas, Miss Grace."

Regulus pressed a kiss to Grace's forehead, before getting to his feet.

He gave Lily a smile as he passed – a reassuring squeeze of her arm – and headed back out into the night.

Lily looked at Grace, raising an eyebrow at her little girl, who was admiring her new gifted flower with a wide smile, twirling it carefully between her fingers, and Lily reached a hand out to her.

"Will we put out a bit more reindeer food and see if that makes up for keep Santa waiting?"

Grace nodded, eagerly, "Yes!"

She took her mum's hand and Lily accioed the jar of glitter and oats from the table, the two of them heading to the door.

* * *

Malachi walked quietly down the upstairs hallway of the house that – despite him having stayed there all summer – still didn't feel quite like home.

When he thought of home, he longed for Crail. The crash of the ocean coming to mind, the distant water meeting the sky on the horizon and the sirens of the boats and the bustle of the people in the center of the town.

And Emma MacLean, blue eyes sparkling as she smiled at him, sitting opposite on the rocks.

Malachi's eyes lowered, his steps coming to a stop outside his dad's bedroom.

His dad and Julia's.

Normally – in years past – he'd just march right in.

It was still a bit bizarre to him. Seeing his dad _married_ – having a stepmum – the three of them living under the same roof.

It had always been just the two of them.

Some things were different.

Most, though, were still the same.

His dad was especially delighted and affectionate with both of them; showering Malachi with pride and love, praising his articles and his writing and his _'bravery'_ to the skies in the days since he'd come home and snuggling in close with Julia at every opportunity.

Seeming to be in his element as a father and husband, as if he'd been given everything he could have ever wanted.

And there was just as much laughter – more so, even, than there had been before despite the little shadow of darkness in his dad's expression when Malachi could see him become lost in thought, most likely about what had just happened at Hogwarts – and there were still smiles and jokes and his dad's annoying pranks, waiting to catch Malachi – or Julia, now, too – out.

But, as had always been the case in the past, his dad still slept at night with the bedroom door open.

Open, so that he could hear Malachi – anyone who might come for him – in the night, unable to rest whenever the door was closed.

His dad's paranoia still lingering – aware of the dangers lurking, waiting to strike.

The door wasn't open as wide as it used to be, but it was enough that Malachi could easily see inside.

Malachi peeked, curiously, from where he stood, seeing that the two of them were still sleeping, despite the fact it was Christmas morning and past nine.

That wasn't unusual either.

Malachi always woke first, in the past, and went in to waken him.

Today, though…well, any day, now that his dad had Julia in bed with him, it felt odd – intrusive – to even go into the room at all, much less when they were cuddled up close as they were, now, fast asleep.

Malachi eyed them.

His dad had Julia pulled in close, him tucked up behind her, with his arm wrapped around her; protective, even in slumber.

Malachi swallowed. Thought of Emma, again. And then Luna, who he had walked away from. Two who Malachi had no means – not in the way his dad did – of protecting.

Malachi glanced away, feeling sheepish, suddenly, for looking and made his way downstairs – noticing a little pile of presents out the corner of his eye under the tree in the far side of the room as he passed – and figured he'd just wait in the kitchen area until they decided to get up.

Malachi summoned Kreacher, asking him to make a breakfast for them – something hot and sweet – and the House Elf did so, so that something would be ready for them by the time they came down.

His dad emerged first, smiling blearily at him when he stepped into the room.

"Thought I heard you," his dad pressed a kiss to his head, "Merry Christmas, Son."

"Merry Christmas," Malachi smiled, before nodding at the freshly prepared breakfast, "Pancakes for you."

"Ah. You, my son, think of everything."

"Where's Julia?"

"Still asleep," his dad got a little smile, as he loaded up a plate of pancakes from himself, "Not sure if you've noticed. She's been a bit…worn down, the last few weeks."

"Oh. Is she okay?"

His dad's smile widened, as he nodded, "Oh. Yes. She's fine. Quite fine."

Malachi eyed him, easily picking up on the gleam in his dad's eyes, even if he wasn't looking directly at him.

Malachi rolled his eyes, knowing right away his dad was up to something.

"What?"

His dad chuckled, putting the plate down, and then he leaned on the counter beside him, meeting his eyes.

"Did you see your presents?"

"Um. Yea –" Malachi glanced at them, briefly, " – _thank you_. I was…just waiting for you both before opening them, though. Like always."

"Well –" his dad said, grinning like a total goon, " _Well_ , there is something a little bit _bigger_ we've got for you coming up that just might make those things seem a little – well – _shoddy_ in comparison, if I do say so myself."

Malachi eyed him, a feeling of _great_ unease coming over him at his dad's obvious delight, and he wondered if this was going to be something at his expense. Some _revenge_ for making his dad go sky-diving that summer.

"What have you done?"

His dad laughed, lifting his chin, and smiling at him.

"You're going to be a big brother."

Malachi stared at him.

"Wha…"

Malachi frowned, peering at him, for any sign of a joke.

"Really?" Malachi whispered, brow lowering further, when all he was met with was his dad's continuing smile, at what he obviously considered to be good news.

His dad nodded.

Malachi smiled, elation coming over him suddenly, when he realized his dad was actually telling him the truth, before he laughed, " _Really?"_

"Big promotion coming your way, Son."

Malachi laughed again and flung his arms around his dad's neck, hugging him tight, "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"Oh, I wanted it to be – call it a Christmas gift."

Malachi drew back, "When?"

"June. Happened pretty quickly after the wedding."

Malachi was surprised at that – knowing his dad was pretty beaten up around that time but didn't elaborate any further on that thought because that would just be gross _–_ but Malachi nodded, smiling his approval – his own delight – at the news.

"June. Great! I'll be home from school. I'll be here for it."

His dad squeezed his shoulder, still smiling.

"That you will, Son. You'll be there to help out with all those _night feedings_ that I was so very fond of when you were a nipper –"

Malachi snickered.

"And you can help pick out all those pretty little dresses we'll have her in, showing her off to the masses, our little Lady Black."

Malachi rolled his eyes, grinning, "It could be a boy, Dad. A brother."

His dad got a smaller smile at that, glancing away for a second, thinkingly, before meeting Malachi's eyes and nodding.

"Well. Brothers do have their moments, I suppose."

Malachi smiled.

His dad's eyes lifted from him, going over Malachi shoulder, "Aha! Sleeping Beauty awakens!"

Malachi followed his gaze, as Julia rolled her eyes, stepping into the kitchen and tying the knot of her nightrobe, with a smile that she cast between them both, "Giving someone the news, are you?"

Malachi smiled, warmly, at her and – giving her a proper look – could see that there _was_ the tiniest hint of a bump that he hadn't noticed since he'd come home – probably still wouldn't have noticed if his dad hadn't told him – of his new baby brother or sister.

"Merry Christmas, Julia," he said, feeling shy in his elation and unsure of how to properly express how happy he was about it.

But Julia – never shy – smiled widely at him, seeming to pick up on exactly how he felt about it, and approached, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You too, Kid."

Before she could draw back, his dad stepped up, catching the two of them in a bear hug – _"argh!" –_ and they laughed, the three of them, squeezed in tight together as his dad lifted his chin and smiled between the two of them.

"Let's make this a Christmas to remember, hm? Our first and _last_ , just the three of us."

His eyebrows wiggled in the direction of Julia's stomach, before he stepped back, going back to load up the plates, as Julia climbed up onto the stool next to where Malachi sat.

The room quickly filling with conversation and smiles and laughter until, Malachi realized, that, actually, this did feel a lot like family. Even, a little bit like home.

* * *

Grace peered at the pile of presents under the Christmas tree from where she sat on the bottom stair in the living room.

She glanced impatiently back up the staircase behind her and hoped that her mummy and Harry wouldn't be so cross today as they had been all week, and she thought – hoped – they might feel better if they'd been given something nice, waiting under the tree.

She looked at the coffee table, where she knew some craft supplies were, and wondered if she had time to quickly make a picture for them. She could stuff them in their stockings and pretend Father Christmas made them. Her mummy always said made-gifts were better – more thoughtful – but she glanced heard footsteps creaking the floorboards above her and knew they wouldn't be long.

She didn't want to get a row for pretending to be Santa and getting a row for lying.

Especially on Christmas.

Grace shifted, moving agitatedly, getting more and more impatient when still neither her mum nor her brother came down the stairs.

Maybe she _did_ have time to make something.

But Grace knew that – when she was sad – she didn't get as happy anymore or easily forget why she was upset, when her mum or Uncle Remus would try to distract her with ice creams or little toys or new books, the way she used to, and she wondered if it was because she wasn't so little anymore that it didn't work.

Old people never forgot anything.

And Harry was getting old now, too. Sometimes, when Grace looked at him, he looked _way_ old. Taller than their mummy now and he'd spent almost the whole time since he'd came home frowning.

He never used to frown so much.

But Grace didn't really see Harry much until this year, she remembered. Usually, they only ever saw each other at the holidays.

The happiest times.

And Harry had been sad and angry almost all the time when they were both at Hogwarts together.

Lots of people were sad, now.

Even Mr. Black – who was _always_ happy – wasn't _really_ smiling the night before, when he'd given her the piece of holly.

He had just been pretending.

Maybe they were _all_ pretending.

She'd heard people say all the time while she was at Hogwarts, that these were 'dark times'. They didn't look so dark – she glanced at the window – everything looked just the same.

It felt different, though, now.

Especially since Harry had come home for Christmas.

Grace sighed and got to her feet, her impatience winning out, and she turned and went back upstairs. She hesitated at her mum's door, opened a tiny crack, that she had been about to burst into, stopping when she heard a sniff.

Grace peeked through the gap, seeing her mum sitting on the edge of the bed, crying quietly.

Grace frowned, backing away, frightened.

She turned, hurrying as quietly as she could to Harry's door, not knocking in case their mum would hear her outside and pushed open the door, slipping inside.

Harry's head turned in her direction, from where he was still under the covers – not sleeping, just pretending, Grace realized – and he gave her a pretend smile.

"Hi, Grace."

Grace hurried up to him, giving him a hug, and she heard him chuckling and she buried in close, still frightened at seeing her mummy crying.

"Merry Christmas to you too," Harry murmured, pressing a kiss to her head, "Has Santa been yet?"

Grace just nodded, not pulling back, feeling a bit better with her brother's arms wrapped around her.

"Hey," Harry said after a minute, when Grace didn't want to stop cuddling him, and he dipped his chin to make her look at him, "Grace."

Grace met his eyes and he frowned – like he had been all week – looking worried, "What's the matter?"

"Are you sad again, Harry?" she asked him.

Harry shook his head, immediately, "No. I'm not sad. How could I be sad when my little Gracie's in here with me, hm?"

"Liar."

"Oi," Harry poked her side with his finger, smiling for real, now, "Watch it, cheeky."

"Mummy's sad," Grace whispered, looking back at the door, "She's crying."

Harry's smile went away, his shoulders dropping a bit, before he pushed himself to sit up in bed – " _oh " –_ and once he was sitting he nodded at her, so that she'd climb up, so she did and cuddled back into his side.

"She's just missing someone, is all."

"Who?"

"Someone we've lost. Christmas sometimes make people think about them. The ones that aren't here with us."

"Oh," Grace frowned, eyes on the covers, before she said, "Like my dad?"

Grace felt Harry's arms tighten around her, felt the nod of his head against hers, and he said – sounding sad again; "Yeah. Yeah, like your dad."

Grace sat there, starting to feel sad, too – even if you shouldn't on Christmas – and then she asked, quietly, knowing that he wouldn't know, "Where did he go?"

Harry didn't say anything, just hugged her a little bit tighter, and Grace cuddled into him, not caring about presents or Christmas anymore. Just happy her brother was here.

There was a knock at the door before it pushed open and their mum popped her head in.

Grace and Harry looked at her from where they were cuddled on the bed, and she gave them both a smile – not looking at all like she'd been crying, back to pretending again – and said.

"I thought I heard you two in here. Never thought I'd see the day you'd be lying in bed when there's a big pile of presents waiting for you downstairs."

Neither of them moved, just smiling at her from where they were, Harry wishing her a _"Merry Christmas, Mum"_ and when they didn't move, Grace held out a hand.

Their mum looked surprised but didn't wait, coming over right away, and took the hand Grace held out, so that she could tug their mum to sit on the bed beside them.

"Oh, well, this takes me back," her mum said with a little chuckle, as Harry and Grace shimmied across a bit so the three of them could fit, and she put her arms around both of them, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks, and cuddled them both.

"Mummy."

"Yes?"

"It's okay to be sad. You don't have to pretend."

Grace didn't have to look up to know her mum and Harry were looking at each other – trying to come up with some old person plan that Grace wasn't allowed to know about – and then she felt her mum's lips press to the top of her head.

"You're right, Sweetheart."

Grace looked up, looking into her mum's eyes. And they still looked a little bit sad. But they looked a little bit happy, too, now and her mum gave her a smile, touching her forehead to hers, and Grace smiled back.

"Do you want to go downstairs and open your presents?"

Grace looked at her for a second.

And then she shook her head, snuggling back into her mum and Harry's arms, liking it better this way. No pretend smiles or sad frowns – just cuddles – and said, "Later, Mummy. This is better."

Grace knew they were surprised – that they were looking at one another again – but then she felt her mum and Harry move a bit, getting more comfy, and her mum's arms got a little bit tighter around them.

"Yes, it is," her mum said, quietly, nuzzling her nose into Grace's hair before giving her another kiss on the cheek.

Grace smiled.

She felt sad, now, though, like them.

And realised she was pretending, too.

* * *

"Aw, you cheated, Dad!"

"Cheated, moi?" Regulus placed a hand upon his chest in mock offence, while Julia tittered and Malachi rolled his eyes, before he pointed a playful finger at his son's chest, "You know, Son, I don't know where on Earth you get this _competitive_ streak of yours from."

Malachi smirked and reached for the game cards and Regulus handed them over, with a smile, ruffling his hair before getting up from where the three of them were sitting around the coffee table, while his son shuffled them up getting ready for another game.

"Time for dessert, is it?" he said, heading over to the kitchen and pulling open the cooling unit.

"When is it not time for dessert with you, Black?"

Regulus grinned, pulling out the nearest of the two puddings, and headed over to the furthest counter by the sink to prepare it.

Regulus went to put it down, eyes lifting to the window, unexpectedly meeting a pair of black eyes staring straight at him through the glass.

He made a yelp of a sound as he jumped, the cake slipping from his hands and falling to the floor at his feet.

Malachi and Julia looked up, quickly.

"Regulus?"

"Aww, Dad, what are you doing?"

Regulus chuckled, nervously, pulling out and swishing his wand to clean up the mess, "Whoops! Looks like it's caramel cheesecake tonight, the strawberry's gone overboard!"

Malachi shot Julia a look – commiserating in his father's foolishness – before he started to deal the next round, while Julia met Regulus' eyes, a question in them, and Regulus waved a dismissive hand, shooting a smile her way.

He was careful to keep his eyes ahead as he went back towards the cooling unit to get the next one, eyes only glancing back in the direction of the window once he was sure Julia and Malachi were preoccupied once more, at the now-empty spot where Severus had just been.

* * *

"How's Harry doing?"

Lily glanced at Remus, noting his eyes on Harry with concern where he was in front of the fireplace with Grace, trying to get the little toy broom set up that she'd found under the tree that morning, and she sighed.

"Not great. There's only so much I can…"

She hesitated – for Remus knew nothing of the horcrux and probably very little to do with the connection he shared with Voldemort, either – and just shifted where they sat on the couch, reaching for the bottle to fill their glasses back up.

Even if they were both more than half-full already.

"And you?"

Lily bit her lip, meeting Remus' eyes, and he looked both concerned and uncertain, as if he might be crossing a line by even asking – by making nod to what Severus had done – and she just shook her head, saying nothing, lifting her glass to her lips.

"You know, must say, I was surprised you came here alone," Lily changed the subject when the silence stretched, their eyes still on the kids, "I _had_ thought you'd bring along a guest."

Remus got a fond smile at the mention.

"Well. Dora doesn't know anything. I haven't told her. And…" his eyes were on Harry, "I wouldn't want her saying anything that might upset him. Either of you. She was more than happy to spend a little longer with her father after dinner, so I ducked out for a bit."

Lily looked at him, touched by the consideration.

"You didn't have to do that, Remus."

"No?"

"I'm sure we'll be hearing worse."

"Hm. I suppose you can't give me any indication of what's going on?"

Lily met Remus' eyes. Even if she _did_ know anything, she doubted it was information she would be able to share. She shook her head, glancing away.

"Well. If you need anything…Even if you just wanted us to take Grace – Harry, too, if you needed it – at ours for a little while. Dora is rather fond of her."

Lily smiled.

"Thanks, Remus."

And then she turned teasing eyes on him, " _Ours_? Does that mean you two have _finally_ taken the next step?"

Remus met her eyes, almost shyly, smiling and he cleared his throat, "Well. Now you mention it –" he shifted, " – just so happens that, this morning, we took a rather…larger step than that."

Lily's eyes widened, slightly, "Oh?"

Remus' shy smile became a grin then, lowering his eyes, "Um. Yes. I asked her to marry me. And – turns out – she was more than willing, so…"

Lily laughed then, head tilting back, before she put her glass aside and hugged him, "Oh, that's wonderful news, Remus."

She felt him hug her back.

"Hm. Yes. It – I … I am a bit surprised myself at it –"

"Oh, you shouldn't be," Lily shook her head, drawing back, beaming at him, lightened, herself, at the news – something _good –_ that he'd given her, "She is _lucky_ to have you. I'm so happy for you both."

Remus was both blushing and smiling at once, ducking his head, and then Grace pounced on him for behind, a look of glee on her face, "You're getting _married_ , Uncle Remus?"

"That I am, Grace," he said, grinning at her over his shoulder.

"Harry, Uncle Remus is getting married to Tonks!"

"She said yes?"

"Yes, she did."

"I knew she would," Harry said, smilingly, from where he was still sat trying to connect up the broom, "That's fantastic."

"When?" Grace asked, eagerly, "Can I be a flower girl again? Like I was for Julia and Mr. Black? I was _very_ good, Malachi said so when I asked him."

"Certainly you will, young lady," Remus chuckled her chin, making Grace giggle, "But it'll be a little while yet. Much rather wait until I've got a good length of time away from Hogwarts – wouldn't want our first few months married spent living apart, hm?"

"You're on holidays now!" Grace said, insistently, "Why not get married tomorrow? Mr. Black and Julia got married really quick after he asked her."

"So, they did. But I'm afraid one week _might_ just be pushing that a bit."

"A week?" Harry lowered the broom, looking at Remus, uneasily, "Have you heard something? Are they wanting us to just go back as usual right after the holidays? As if nothing happened…It seems a bit soon after…"

Harry trailed off, not finishing his thought – though both she and Remus knew what it was – and Remus nodded.

"Yes, we were briefed yesterday. For the sake of the students, it was decided there should be as little disruption as possible. Hogwarts is one of the few things offering stability to a lot of children right now. Professor McGonagall is going to step into the role of acting Headmistress for the time-being and a temporary Transfiguration Professor assigned by the Ministry will be assigned to her normal duties, until a suitable replacement for –" Remus hesitated, shifting, and glancing away as if unable to say the name, " – until a suitable replacement can be decided. Assuming Minerva is not interested in the post herself permanently."

Harry's eyes were on the rug.

"Wha - what about Potions?" he asked, quietly.

"Potions?" Grace perked up, immediately, "What about Professor Snape?"

"Um – holidays. Away for work," Harry mumbled, glancing away, looking embarrassed to have asked.

Remus cleared his throat.

"Ministry-assigned replacement for him, too."

"Hurry up and fix the broom, please, Harry," Grace returned to his side, and Harry forced a smile at her, returning to the task at hand.

Lily met Remus' eyes when they were both distracted.

"I wasn't sure the school would open again, either. There must be some…concern amongst parents."

Remus nodded.

"There has been notice given in some cases of parents wishing to exercise their rights to educate their children at home next term. Some refusing to send their children back to the school for the foreseeable future."

Lily nodded, eyes going back to Harry.

"Were you thinking about doing that?" Remus asked, curiously.

Lily shook her head, meeting Remus' look, "No. Not unless Harry wants it. I imagine he'd go stir crazy stuck in the house all day while Grace and I are at the Foundation. You and I both know the manner by which the Death Eaters got into the building. I doubt that'd be happening again. And…well," Lily lifted her eyebrows, briefly, giving him a smile, "You'll be there."

Remus smiled, nodding.

"That I will. And I will certainly do my best to singlehandedly keep him out of mischief."

Lily grinned, rolling her eyes, before they went back in the direction of her kids.

"Good luck."

* * *

Severus had almost given up – prepared to just leave – by the time he heard it.

A disturbance in the undergrowth – a rustling of leaves and snaps of branches – that drew Severus' eyes to the tree line from where he was sat upon a fallen log in the shadows, some hours after he had arrived on the little island that Regulus and his family resided upon.

He could see a form up ahead – Regulus – looking searchingly, not yet able to see Severus where he waited, the welcome voice of a friend calling as he stepped further into the woods that concealed him.

"You know you could have warned me," Regulus called, voice carrying amongst the trees, as he continued to look for him, "I was in bed. Could have been doing some stretches."

Severus released a breath, hands coming up to cover his face.

He laughed. _Laughed_ in spite of himself. In spite of the horrors. In spite of the cruel reality that had befallen them. In spite of all that was still to come.

Severus heard the footsteps rustle the leaves closer to him, coming to a stop, and he lowered his hands, meeting Regulus' eyes where he stood a few feet away from him.

Regulus smiled.

It was almost too much.

To be greeted by warmth and kindness.

Severus lowered his eyes to his hands, where they were clasped on his lap, words failing him.

Regulus came to him, handing over a plate of – what appeared to be – Christmas dinner – warmed back up – and took a seat on the fallen log beside him. He sat close enough that their thighs touched, and Severus knew that was for comfort that he would never ask for.

Severus lifted the fork and knife – doing his best not to look too famished – and tucked in, in lieu of anything he could come up with to say or explain.

The warmth and trust and unquestioning loyalty he had been met with in his friend's eyes driving it all away; far easier to come up with a response when confronted with indignation or fury or self-righteousness.

Severus had – of course – come to the wrong place for that.

And yet he was drawn there, unable to either bear or risk lingering in the shadows outside his own home.

"You know –" Regulus said, eventually, when the silence stretched on, eyes ahead rather than upon him, " – you quite left me for dead. And yet my son is _entirely_ unwilling to believe you have turned against us."

The fork Severus had been lifting to his lips halted.

Their eyes met and Regulus gave him another smile, a slight nod.

"Yours, too."

Severus lowered his eyes, the suspended hand lowering back to his knee, at the words – the reassurance that Regulus had given him – that Harry still believed in him.

He fought down the immediate surge of emotion at the statement. Emotions that were far more welcome than the _others_ that had toiled and knotted this past week.

But now was not the time.

That could wait until he was alone.

"How is she?" Severus asked, voice a murmur, not quite meeting Regulus' eyes.

"You know Lily. She's strong. But…I'm sure she'd appreciate seeing you for herself."

Severus nodded, slowly. Before clearing his throat.

"Three days from now. Ask her to come here, three am. If I don't make it, you find me here the next, and then the next, until I either do or you hear reason why I cannot."

Regulus looked at him, grimly at the implication, before he nodded, agreeing, and glanced back out at the trees and Severus lifted his fork, continuing to eat the food Regulus had given to him.

The two of them sat there, Severus eating and Regulus thinking, neither saying anything for a few minutes.

Until, Regulus finally made mention of the incident that had occurred at Hogwarts, in such a blasé manner, that one would never had guessed that Severus – for all intents and purposes – had just murdered a man who considered him a friend in cold blood, in the height of battle

"So, during these consultations with Albus in which he – I am _assuming_ – somehow managed to convince you to sell your soul –"

Severus lifted his eyes skywards.

" – did he happen to leave any indication of _my_ next steps? I have yet to receive my instructions and the war _is_ getting on a bit."

Severus met his eyes, seeing Regulus looking at him, fondly.

Severus nodded, looking away from him and back to his food.

"You are far more astute than people give you credit for, Regulus."

He lifted his fork to his lips, eyes on nothing, as he took another bite.

"Not at all, Severus," Regulus leaned towards him, forehead pressing to his temple with a grin, "It was obvious."

Severus released a breath – a sound of amusement – for it was by no means obvious. But he simply lifted his fork, continuing to eat.

"You just keep doing what you're doing, Regulus."

"Nothing?"

Severus smiled a little into his food, shaking his head, not even deigning to dignify the statement with an answer.

Once he was finished, Regulus reached into his robes, pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey – opening it – and taking a swig, before he held it out Severus' way.

Severus did the same.

The two of them sitting there, drinking, in silence.

And Severus found that even the silence of understanding was enough to soothe. Allowing himself to linger far longer than he ought to. Until, seeing the flicker of the sun begin to rise on the horizon, he got to his feet.

Regulus stood with him.

"Come inside."

Severus glanced at the house – tempting as the offer might be – and shook his head.

"Due to the nature of the Dark Lord's connection with Harry, he must remain in ignorance of my true reasons – my true allegiance – and it would be unfair for your family, particularly Malachi, to have to maintain a lie with someone they share a trust."

Regulus looked back at him, unwaveringly.

"They can handle it."

Severus' lips twitched then. And he allowed a smile. Before he handed over the now-empty plate and passed him, hand giving the slightest pressure to Regulus' arm as he did.

Returning to his place at the Dark Lord's side

* * *

Severus did manage to make it, the night that he had told Regulus to have Lily wait for him.

Albeit somewhat later than planned, the timepiece telling him it was closer to four than three by the time he made it back to the clearing in the woods near to Regulus' Fidelius-protected home.

Neither Lily nor Regulus were waiting for him outside.

But he could see them both through the window of the lit kitchen as he approached – sticking to the shadows and the cover of darkness – making himself known by a single tap of his finger against the glass and a quick meeting of the eyes between himself and Regulus, before he ducked back against the wall.

The kitchen door opened, Regulus' head popping out the gap, and he indicated with a nod that he come in.

Severus hesitated.

"Julia and Malachi are spending the night at yours. She's taking care of the kids."

Severus didn't need any more convincing than that – that they would be entirely alone – to come into the house.

His eyes found Lily, where she stood at the edge of the counter, her eyes quickly skimming him – as if for any visible indications of injury or pain – and he had only a second to feel nervous, uneasy, at the conversation he knew was surely to come before she stepped forward, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him close.

Regulus, who stood a few feet behind, gave him a nod, before heading to the stairs and disappearing out of sight.

"Severus," Lily whispered, still holding him tight, "Oh my god."

Severus buried his face into her shoulder.

Into the warm, welcome comfort of her embrace, and when he closed his eyes, he could pretend this was just any other night. Their nights – any time they had – spent together was such a luxury, even before now, that this could be any one of their other reunions.

He need not be a fugitive – on the run – a murderer in the eyes of all who did not know him. Even some of those who did. For a moment, he could simply be hers.

Lily drew back only slightly, their faces close as their eyes met, and there was so much love that his breath caught as he looked at her.

"Are…are you okay?" she murmured.

It was one of the easier questions to answer. Still, he was not _entirely_ honest when he did.

Severus nodded.

Lily raised an eyebrow – not buying it – and his lips twitched, before closing the tiny distance that had been made and he leaned his forehead to hers.

Continuing to just allow himself this moment, before the questions that would quickly follow.

They did not take long.

Lily drawing back, though her hands remained on his arms, when their eyes met again.

"Severus. What…what happened? Why did…" Lily closed her eyes, as if to compose her and gather her thoughts, " _Why_?"

Severus had rehearsed this so many times – thought about the exchange on numerous occasions – while he had stumbled through the world in the aftermath of what had been done.

What reason he would give to Lily when she finally asked him that very question.

Why.

Severus drew in a breath, before he finally told her.

"Dumbledore was infected – mortally so – during one of his attempts to destroy Regulus' gathered horcruxes," his response sounded as rehearsed as it actually was, his voice entirely calm, despite the erratic race of his heart and the tightness that clenched in his stomach, "It was…agreed between us that we should use his impending demise to our advantage."

Lily simply stared back at him for a moment.

Duly unimpressed at his emotionless recitation of what, exactly, had happened that night. The admittance that it had all been planned – for months – in advance of when the event occurred. Even if he had not fully committed to it, until the very night the deed had been done.

Lily drew in a breath, lifting her chin.

"So. We were right. Regulus and I…without even asking questions, he was _convinced_ you'd done it under orders. Severus –" Lily broke off, shaking her head, as her hand came up, fingers pressed to her closed eyelids.

She stayed like that for a minute, almost entirely still, before her hand dropped and she finally ground out, meeting his eyes again, a fire in her own when she did.

"On _Dumbledore's_ orders, no less. One of his great plans – no doubt in collaboration with his wish to sacrifice our son."

"Would you rather I had killed him of my own volition?"

"I would _rather_ you hadn't killed him at all."

"Lily," Severus stepped closer, taking her hands in his, "Even if we are not willing to go through with Dumbledore's ultimate solution to the issue of the horcrux, it still remains essential that I secure my place at the Dark Lord's side. More so, even, should we refuse to do so. This act – by Dumbledore's wishes – ensures that place. We cannot allow the Dark Lord to learn of the truth behind his connection with Harry nor can we allow his reign to go unchecked."

"Severus, as far as everyone is concerned, you just murdered Albus Dumbledore in cold blood. There is no coming back from that for us –"

"Maybe not," Severus conceded, knowing it was the truth, "But there is more at stake here. The Dark Lord is going to win, Lily. It is only a matter of time. And this has now become – has always been – about more than just us. It is about our children's future. Regardless of whether or not that includes me is now irrelevant; there is no future for them so long as the Dark Lord rises and Dumbledore's fall was inevitable. It was logical - essential - that every available method to eventually frustrate and stem the nature of the rule that the Dark Lord seeks to impose upon our lives be utilised. Regulus does not ask questions because he has seen it. The reality. Look at the werewolves – Lupin – and why he conceals what he is. Registrations of their existence, outcast, unemployment, no life worthy, even, of living – so long as anyone knows the truth of what they are – and that is what we are looking at for muggleborns. Only _worse_. It will become a crime simply to _exist_ as a muggleborn, as the _offspring_ of muggleborns, to dare be born with magic in their veins – in your veins – and, even then, that is not the worst of it. It is a future of darkness, of violence, of suppression for all, from which there will never be peace. We cannot allow this. Not when it is in our power to stop it."

"Our power?" Lily repeated, though her eyes were uncertain now, at his words – words, the truth of what he had known, finally spoken – and she lifted her shoulders, "And how are we two people supposed to combat that, when no one knows who you – who we – truly stand with?"

Severus nodded, squeezing her hands.

"Not only we two. We will just play our part. As will others."

Lily frowned at him, still not entirely aware of what it was he was saying, before he stepped away, calling Regulus back down into the room.

It took a minute for him to emerge, Regulus glancing between them when he eventually did, curiously, looking – for all intents and purposes, judging by his new attire – as if he had planned to simply go to _bed_ following Severus' arrival.

Severus rolled his eyes, shooting him a look, while Regulus lifted his shoulders – looking entirely baffled that he had been summoned before them – and Severus cleared his throat, before he put voice to the plan that he and Dumbledore had finally come up with, that just may turn the tide of victory in their favour.

"We all know what is coming. With Dumbledore gone it is only a matter of time."

Regulus leaned on the counter, eyes lowering, while Lily stared back at him, waiting.

"I am going to maintain my place in the Inner Circe - I am very well received at present moment, as you can well imagine - and I am going to be feeding information –" Severus nodded at Regulus, " – to _you_."

Regulus straightened, looking immediately bewildered – even more so, than before – at Severus' statement.

"To me?"

"Yes," Severus said, steadily, knowing this may take some convincing, "You, Regulus, are going to mobilise and unite those who would stand against the Dark Lord and, together with the Order, we will _thwart_ his endeavours as he makes his full ascension."

" _What_?" Regulus laughed, as if it were the more ridiculous suggestion in the world, "That's - Severus - I don't have that kind of _influence_ -"

"The _"People's Sweetheart"_ – the founder of the Aurelius Foundation and the father of the most _inspirational_ Max E. MacLean – doesn't have the influence to unite the people?"

Regulus shook his head, sceptical as ever about his own worth, lips twisting in something that wasn't quite a smile.

"I am no Albus Dumbledore -"

"Regulus," Lily interrupted him.

And, when they both looked at her, Severus could see that she was thinking about it. _Really_ thinking about it. And she met Regulus eyes, the fire that had previously been directed towards Severus – against what he had done – now behind what he was suggesting,

"He's right," Lily said, with a certainty in her voice, "The people, they'd follow you."

Regulus eyed her.

Lily turned more towards him, "Regulus, yours and Julia's wedding was attended by _hundreds._ Hundreds whom Voldemort showed up and threatened to murder if you didn't go down to those gates and you went down – without question – within minutes, even when they told you not to. Even when they would have stood with you, then. Those people – they will follow you. They'd stand with you, just as your family does –" she glanced at Severus, " – and we do."

Severus gave a slight nod at her and met Regulus' eyes.

Regulus still looked sceptical. But, after a moment, he gave him a nod, agreeing to the plan.

Severus' lips twitched, as Lily turned to him.

"Severus, what about you? You'll be –"

"I am to be instated as Headmaster at Hogwarts. Upon the fall of the Ministry."

"The fall of –"

"We can expect it within a month, if not sooner, assuming the current methods being deployed by him are successful."

Lily stared at him, horrified.

"He would place you there – at _Hogwarts_ – after what was done - amongst those who consider you an enemy, facing their hatred over a crime you didn't -"

"I think he believes it would be a rather enjoyable show, indeed."

"Severus, you would be alone amongst those who - wrongly - despise you, every day –"

"I will not be alone," Severus said, assuredly, "I will have Lupin."

Lily stared at him, almost dumbstruck by the implication. An expression quite shared with Regulus. Though Severus rather guessed it was that _he_ had suggested it, that stunned them, rather than the suggestion itself.

" _Remus_?"

"He has doubts," Severus said, without preamble, knowing it to be true for the imbecile had very nearly cast said doubt that night in front of everyone he meant to fool, "Reveal to him the truth of what I have told you tonight – ensure it is him and only him who knows of it – and if he is willing, have him report to me in the first instance while at Hogwarts."

"I'll talk to him."

"Then it's settled. Assuming he agrees, Lupin and I shall take them from the inside; he will be my eyes and ears on the grounds of Hogwarts and, together, we will protect the students while I will be _your_ eyes and ears in the Circle and, together, you two will work with the Order to minimise as much damage and advancement that the Dark Lord attempts to make."

Lily shared a look with Regulus – who still looked less than convinced by the plan, particularly as related to himself – but both nodded.

"Severus," Lily stepped towards him, taking his hands, with a look of obvious concern, "Even with Remus with you –"

"My concern is not for myself," Severus told her, eyes glancing between them, "Under no circumstances are the boys to return to the school at the end of the holidays. Should the Ministry fall while they are there, it will be impossible to remove them before the Dark Lord can reach them. And I imagine you are both aware that the moment it happens, the roles between you all and I will reverse. All of you – the boys and our families – will become fugitives. The Ministry Aurors, if not the Death Eaters, themselves, will come for you. Yourself –" Severus nodded at Lily, before meeting Regulus' eyes, "And your wife, for being muggleborn. And you and our sons for your crimes against him. You need to be ready."

Neither of them argued it – most likely they would have come to the conclusion themselves, but there was no time to waste – and Severus went on.

"Soon, I will be unreachable. In the meantime, it will be down to the two of you to do all you can to ensure that everything is prepared and in place so that at the point when the Ministry falls, the resistance will rise."

The two of them were silent. Digesting the direness of the circumstances that were slowing advancing upon them. The circumstances that simply could not be permitted to become their children's future.

Regulus pursed his lips together.

"Well. No pressure at all then," Regulus said lightly as he crossed his arms, lifting his eyebrows, "Where even to start, I wonder."

Severus' lips twitched at Regulus' tone.

"Where else, Regulus?"

Regulus looked back at him, knowingly, as Severus smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"The Foundation."

Regulus lifted his chin, getting a smile.


	83. January 1996: Rise of the Resistance

"Well. It's not every day I'm graced with the presence of Regulus Black in my office," Amelia Bones said, in that rather intimidating voice of hers – always so serious – as she stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind her.

Regulus titled his head from where he was sat on the guest side of her desk, waiting on her arrival, shooting her a grin over his shoulder, "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Madam Bones."

Amelia's lips twitched in amusement as she approached, placing her briefcase upon the desk and taking the seat opposite, "You have certainly caused quite a stir."

"Have I?" he asked, innocently.

"It is more than a little unusual, pulling an entire organisation from the Floo Network at only a moment's notice."

Regulus raised his eyebrows, "Perhaps that's why Madam Edgecombe was so unaccommodating regarding my initial request."

"Well, Madam Edgecombe does revel in exerting her power upon even the most charming of pests."

"I gathered as much. I do hope she won't be offended by my going over her head and coming to you."

Amelia's eyebrows lifted, her lips pursing together to supress a smile at his tone, as she straightened up in her chair.

"It is rather extraordinary timing, your application for withdrawal. In case you haven't noticed, Regulus, we're having a bit of a crisis in Ministry at the moment."

"Oh, I've heard."

"Count me surprised. Hardly a subtle move, pulling the Aurelius Foundation from the grid, right in the middle of it all. In fact, it is _almost_ as if you have insider information."

"Merely attuned to the writing on the wall, Amelia," Regulus smiled, "I _was_ under the impression that connection to the Floo Network was wholly voluntary."

Amelia eyed him, consideringly for a moment, before she finally smiled and unclipped her briefcase, pulling out a roll of parchments and handing them over.

"Five pm tomorrow. If you can possibly wait that long."

"Much obliged, Madam Bones," Regulus said, smilingly, as he tucked the scrolls into his robes – trusting her enough that he didn't even bother to read them – before he went on, "And the other matter I sent an owl regarding last week, did you happen to –"

"Oh, I happened to," she nodded, handing over another scroll, which Regulus _did_ unroll that time, keen to ensure that the situation was as he had thought and hoped.

"This is an officiated copy of the birth certificate of Draco Malfoy?" Regulus asked, needlessly, as he skimmed the document.

"As you see," Amelia said, seriously, "And, as you indicated it would be, there is your own name in black and white, the last living godparent of the boy. Regulus Black, I must say, you are playing with fire in this endeavour."

Regulus grinned, eyes still on the parchment, "Well. What's life without a little risk, hm?"

Amelia handed over another two scrolls of parchment.

"As his father is not yet deceased, the only route available – should you actually decide to go through with this – is temporary guardianship until the time comes that either Mr. Malfoy comes of age or his father is released from Azkaban and contests the arrangement. I'm afraid any other means by which to claim the boy would involve Lucius Malfoy being willing to sign away his own parental rights which – considering the hush hush nature of your enquiry – I imagine is not something you expect him to be willing to do."

Regulus met her eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Temporary guardianship will do nicely. Thank you, Amelia. And, so, with these forms I shall assume all legal rights and responsibilities to do as I so please with him?"

"Within the child's best interests, yes. Ideally, the young Mr. Malfoy will be in agreement, particularly as he is over the age of twelve. It is a Godparent's prerogative to evoke the right to guardianship upon the loss of parental custody – usually through death – though it is by no means commonly practiced. Often, the child simply ends up in the system."

"Well. That won't be happening here."

Regulus took the scrolls and tucked them into his robes, getting to his feet and reaching out a hand, "Pleasure as ever, Madam Bones."

Amelia smiled, shaking his hand, before he turned and headed from the office.

Regulus made his way down the corridor, ignoring the way Rufus Scrimgeour eyed him, distrustfully, as they passed one another, and Regulus lifted his hand to the side of his head in a mock salute, which made the other man's eyes narrow in annoyance.

He carried on down the corridor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and, even as an outsider, could easily pick up on the sense of unease and distrust that lingered in the air. Caught the way suspicious eyes glanced around the room of the open offices when he walked on by the department reception area.

Regulus smiled, giving a nod at Dora up ahead when he noticed her standing conversing with Kingsley Shacklebolt – she lifting a hand in greeting from the end of the corridor she stood in – as Regulus made a left, towards the exit.

He rounded the corner, physically running into someone, and he reached out a hand to steady him by the arm, "Pardon me, Pius."

Pius Thicknesse's eyes lingered upon his, just an extra second long enough for Regulus to frown at his lack of recognition, before the other man smiled.

"No trouble, Regulus."

Pius passed on by, making his way down the corridor Regulus had just come from.

Regulus' eyes followed the other man for a moment, consideringly, before he turned, carrying on his way, returning the smiles of the two aurors that passed and greeted him with nods, before he reached the lifts, summoning one to return him to the Atrium and, within minutes – armed with all he had come there for – headed from the Ministry of Magic back to the Foundation.

More than a little bit of work still to be done before he and Lily were to meet Severus again that night.

* * *

A thump in the hallway – in the middle of the night – drew Harry and Malachi's attention to the door of Harry's room.

Both of them hurried over, carefully opening and peeking out the slight gap. His mum was heading down the stairs, fully dressed in her day clothes.

Harry and Malachi shared a look.

"Have you heard from Daphne?" Harry whispered, quietly, so as not to wake Grace who'd only just finally fallen asleep on the transfigured mattress on the floor behind them.

"No. I was gonna write her next time I was at the Foundation, but it's closed down now, for the holidays so –"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Harry said, "Since when does the Foundation close for anything?"

"I dunno, my dad was really edgy about it when I tried to ask," Malachi shrugged, "I keep seeing him and Julia whispering but any time I ask what they're going on about, my dad just makes jokes about a married couple's need for _privacy_ ," Malachi rolled his eyes.

Harry snickered, "Mum's been acting really weird too. She sent us off with Uncle Remus and Tonks twice this week – me and Grace – and it's weird, right, that you're all staying for New Year? I mean, who has a party when…"

Harry broke off, eyes lowering, Snape back on his mind. He pushed it aside, thoughts going back to Daphne, instead.

"Well, even if the Foundation's closed, your dad must still be checking in, right? Do you think if I sent Daphne a letter and told her to return it there, he'd get it for me?"

Harry found himself wishing – with each day that passed – that he'd at least kissed her goodbye or _said_ something more than the little exchange they'd had before parting for the holidays, missing her, now, like crazy. Especially with his mum hinting that he might not even get to go back to school at all.

Malachi nodded, "Yeah. Sure, he would. He's been ducking in and out of the house all week, leaving me and Julia to 'get to know one another' a bit better. As if we haven't known one another for the past eight years."

Harry frowned at that, eyes glancing back at the staircase his mum had just gone down.

He headed towards the wardrobe, pulling it open and rummaging in the box at the back.

"What are you doing?" Malachi whispered, behind him.

Harry's hand closed around the fabric of what he'd been looking for – his Invisibility Cloak – and he shot Malachi a grin.

Malachi smirked, nodding, and Harry flung it over his head, heading from the room.

He crept carefully down the hallway – hearing the sound of soft voices and hearty laughter coming from the other side of Grace's bedroom door, where Mr. Black and Julia were spending the night as he passed – and headed down the stairs, seeking his mum.

The kitchen was empty and, with a quick glance through the living door, he could see that that it was dark. The mound on the couch – which had been transfigured into a bed for Remus and Tonks – entirely still, as if those beneath the blankets were deep in slumber.

Harry hesitated, not wanting to go into the basement – thoughts of Snape coming back to mind – but he put a hand on the door, anyway – curiosity winning out – and was ready to push down the handle, when something out the corner of his eye caught his attention.

It was his mum.

And Remus.

Outside in the garden, talking while standing close.

Harry eyed the door behind his mum.

There was no way he'd be able to sneak out without them noticing.

Harry pushed down on the doorhandle of the basement and hurried down – pushing away the immediate surge of nostalgia he got, remembering how he and Snape had spent so much time that summer in here, chasing memories while Harry both fretted about and teased him – and went straight to the door at the back, slipping outside.

He rounded the house, careful where he was walking so that they wouldn't hear his approach, and he could hear their voices when he finally reached the corner, peering round it at where his mum and Uncle Remus stood, speaking quietly.

"Have you thought any more about it?" his mum asked.

Remus nodded, "I…Yes. Of course. But…Yes. I've thought about it."

"You don't believe him."

"I'm not saying I don't believe him, Lily. It's just…It's just a lot to take, that's all. Dumbledore did a lot for me."

Harry frowned, straightening up, realizing, suddenly, that they were talking about Snape.

Harry knew he should turn away – right now – quickly go back into the shadows, into the house, and pretend he hadn't heard anything. It was too risky –

"We would have lost him, either way," his mum went on, and Harry found himself frozen, unable to help but listen, "The curse was too powerful. Severus did everything he could to contain it but…It made sense – logically – that he and Dumbledore would have planned to use his death as a way to advance Severus' position in the circle. That's the only way –"

The kitchen door opened, and Mr. Black stepped out, also fully dressed in his day clothes, now, and stopped, eyebrows lifting, when he noticed them both standing there.

"Ah. Sorry. Didn't realise you two were –"

"No. No, it's okay," his mum shook her head, "We were just –"

"Agreeing to the plan."

His mum looked at Remus then, and he met her eyes, drawing in a breath before shrugging and giving a nod.

His mum smiled, warmly at him, the two of them sharing a look.

Mr. Black clapped his hands together, making his mum jump.

"Excellent! Well, with that said, Lily, maybe we should –" Mr. Black nodded in the direction of the gate, "He's probably waiting."

His mum nodded, tugging her cloak tighter around herself, as Mr. Black walked by the two of them and headed to the gate. His mum turned back to Remus, still smiling, and reached up to squeeze his his arm.

"Thank you, Remus."

His Uncle Remus smiled, nodding, before his mum swept away, following Mr. Black's steps up the path to where he was waiting for her beyond the fence.

The two of them disapparated when she reached him.

Remus turned, heading back into the house.

Leaving Harry reeling in their wake.

* * *

Severus touched his wand to the tip of his finger, a bead of blood forming beneath it, and he touched it to the circle carved into the top of the wooden box in front of him.

The wooden top stirred like molten lava and drew back, parting and opening, revealing the empty inside of the container.

He grasped the nearest object – a book – and placed it inside, swishing his wand and the top of the box reformed, the item sealed off.

Regulus repeated the process, following the same steps Severus had just done, upon the box in front of him, where he stood on the opposite side of the table.

The second box opened in the same way as the first, when Regulus placed a drop of his own blood upon the carved circle, and they peered into it from where each of them stood, at the book that Severus had placed into his own box. Now passed through and lying within Regulus'.

Regulus met his eyes with a grin.

"How is the recruitment progress coming along?" Severus asked, satisfied that a foolproof way of communication between them had now been established.

Regulus shared a look with Lily, who was still pouring over the grid plans of the Foundation building, scribbling notes along the sides, as she had been doing all week.

"We've got the word out to all those in the Foundation who we think would be willing. Who'd need us. Not everyone – there's some we're not sure quite sure about yet – we'll leave them to the last moment, same as Lily and the kids. Last thing we need is to alert Voldemort's eyes in the Ministry that something's going on."

"The Dark Lord is already aware that something is amiss, but he is unconcerned. At present, he quite believes you are far too immaterial to pose any significant threat. His eyes remain on his current endeavors within the Ministry, itself, ensuring his foothold."

Regulus smirked.

"See that, Severus, it pays to be the fool, once in a while."

"Have you set about the means of securing the Foundation?""

"It's been disconnected from any means by which the Ministry can interfere, with the exceptions of the wards which will stand until Voldemort orders them down. It'll be pulled from the Floo network completely, tomorrow."

"What about the blood wards you came across?" Severus said, still addressing Regulus as he stepped in behind Lily, hand on her waist as he peered at the plans, "Could they be utilised?"

Lily looked up curiously as Regulus frowned, considering the suggestion.

"From what I gathered, they can only be placed upon a residence of the protected – the catch being that they and the person who shares the same blood as the deceased both consider the place home."

"With yourself and Harry residing at the Foundation for the foreseeable future, will that be enough?"

Regulus shook his head, "No. The enchantment would have to be manipulated – it wouldn't be easy – you'd need mine and Harry's blood to –"

"Get it, I'll look into it."

"We don't have time to be inventing charms and spells, the Ministry could fall at any moment," Lily said, shooting them both a look, "We stick to what's tried and true. The Fidelius."

Severus shook his head, "The Fidelius grants only one chance at protection. Should this be successful, we are talking about dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of people taking refuge within the Foundation's walls. All it would take is for the single Secret Keeper to fall, for the charm to break, and every one of those who reside there would be able to speak the location, rendering it unviable as a safe house."

"Only if the Secret Keeper is killed," Lily pointed out, "Regulus and I –"

"Neither of you could be Secret Keeper of a Fidelius Charm protecting the Foundation, as both of you are already Secret Keepers of your own respective residences. And – it goes without saying – it would not be practical for me to be so, as you need to be able to swiftly move those needing refuge into the Foundation's boundaries."

"Julia –" Lily began.

"Won't be on the field," Regulus said, in a tone that refuted all argument, as he rounded the table to join them where they stood, "She is not a duellist; her role will be tending to the wounded as they arrive."

"Speaking of which, a way by which to leave and enter the premises – by-passing the guarding Death Eaters – will need to be arranged –"

"I've been looking into that," Lily said, pulling out some other large rolls of parchment and she shook them out, covering those that they had previously been studying.

Severus and Regulus looked at them, at all of the suggested charms and enchantments that Lily had sketched in down the margins; Regulus' eyes widened while Severus' brow furrowed, as they took in the information while Lily went on.

"Regulus has shut down all methods by which to get in and out of the building right now, anyone coming in does so by invitation only, through the post –" she pointed at the section of the plans, " – all eyes are on the front of the building, while we're focusing on the tunnels."

"Huh," Regulus said, leaning in a little closer to them to look at the plans, "I was not aware that our success was contingent upon my extraordinary talents for ground-breaking wizardry. Must admit, I'm a little rusty. Don't quite like our chances."

Severus' lips twitched in a smile that he smothered when Lily shot Regulus a look over her shoulder.

"The collective efforts of the Order will be more than enough," she said, assuredly, before she indicated the notes made alongside the Tonks Facility, "Except –"

"Might I suggest Minerva?" Severus said.

Lily nodded, smiling, "That's what I thought. I'll go to Hogwarts. She's a member of the Order, anyway, but more direct input from her on this would definitely be welcome."

"I could speak to her, I have business at Hogwarts tomorrow," Regulus offered.

"What business?" Severus eyed him.

Regulus tugged on the front of his robes, not quite meeting either of their eyes.

"My cousin."

Severus' eyebrows lifted ever-so-slightly, as he looked at him. And, when neither he nor Lily said anything, Regulus added.

"With it only being a matter of time before Hogwarts and the Ministry fall, leaving Draco in that place is akin to leaving him to the wolves. Or, rather, the snakes. He needs to come out."

Severus nodded, agreeing with the assessment, while Lily smiled.

"The tunnels," Regulus said, turning back to the plans and pretending not to notice their looks of approval, "They'll be protected by any enchantments?"

"Whether by wards or the Fidelius, the perimeter could be set," Severus told him, "All above and below said perimeter would be shielded."

"And the perimeter could be set to include the external facilities – the Tonks building and the Farmstead?" Regulus asked, looking at the plans that Lily had been working on, which had notes written alongside both facilities, utilising each of them, "The Farmstead is a food source –"

"The perimeter may begin and end wherever the caster so wishes. Bear in mind, the larger the area, the longer it will take to implement and the more room there is for error. As both of you are well-versed in evoking the charm, if you _were_ to rely on the Fidelius, it is best one of the two of you are responsible for executing it. Either way, the house elves will be able to apparate in and out of the building to provide supplies, as and when required –" Severus told him.

"And when house elves don't cut it, we have the tunnels," Lily interrupted, indicating the plans, "We can charm them with the same enchantments that manipulate the staircases at Hogwarts. So that they never begin and end in the same place, a constantly changing system of tunnels, so the Death Eaters beyond the border of the charms never know exactly where we'll be coming in or out. That's where the Fidelius is best – only those who can see it, will know where the entrance and exit points are. The Death Eaters would be blind to the point where we're heading towards."

"That's genius," Regulus said, smiling at her, and Severus nodded, hand squeezing her hip where it rested.

"The Dark Lord will have to make a far more visible show of ruling than he might otherwise have wished to – normally he would rely upon whispers and fear alone – but, in this case, with the resistance standing strong, it will not be possible for him to spend every moment and every resource attempting to bring down the Foundation and station guards at every possible entry point. He will be busy, attempting to maintain his and advance his stronghold and his rule – these tunnels, they are ideal."

"When can we expect Voldemort to make his move at the Ministry?" Regulus asked, meeting his eyes, "I was there this morning; you could cut the tension in that place with a knife."

Severus nodded, "A coup will be staged, as soon as all are in place who need to be."

"Something to do with Thickeness, dare I ask?"

Severus shook his head, "Far more than only one. Things are moving far more rapidly than I – or, even, the Dark Lord, himself – anticipated. Much to his pleasure, granted. The time for hesitancy has passed, the sooner this is all implement, the better."

Lily and Regulus shared a look, before giving Severus a nod. And he drew in a breath, turning back to the plans.

"It is only a matter a time."

* * *

Draco stared at Regulus Black, who sat in the chair next to him, more than just a bit confused at what the man had just said to him once Professor McGonagall – the new acting Headmistress of Hogwarts – had departed, leaving them alone in her new office.

"You want to – what – _adopt_ me or something?"

It sounded as ridiculous spoken aloud as it did in Draco's mind.

Regulus smiled, in that strange, affectionate way that was entirely foreign to Draco.

No one ever smiled at him like that. No one other than his mum.

"Not quite as ambitious as that, no," the man cleared his throat, leaning forward so that his arms rested on his knees, "With your father in Azkaban, Hogwarts currently has intermediary responsibility for your care but that will only last until the summer, when the last term of the year ends. At that point, the Ministry would step in and –"

"I'd just get put somewhere. With anyone."

"Well. There is a rigorous process by which families are selected – the suitability of those you'd otherwise be placed with is not in question. Just…I thought you might rather be with family."

Draco eyed him.

When Draco said nothing, Regulus' eyes lowered, before he glanced around the room – Draco noticing how the man's eyes kept going to and lingering, uneasily, upon the new sleeping portrait of Dumbledore on the wall – and then said, quietly.

"Draco. It's not safe at Hogwarts."

Draco met his eyes.

"I know you're angry with me. And I know there's nothing that I can do to make it up to you, what you've lost. Your mum was an extraordinary woman. But…I will say to you the same thing that I said to her. If you let me, I will protect you."

Draco stared back at him – at the kindness and the warmth in the man's eyes – hardly daring to hope but, when the man's gaze didn't falter under Draco's distrust, he found himself nodding, in spite of his doubts.

Regulus smiled, a hand reaching up, squeezing his arm.

"Get your things. I'll explain to Professor McGonagall and meet you in the entrance lobby."

Draco frowned.

"What – _now_?"

Regulus nodded.

Draco kept his eyes on him a moment longer – a feeling of dread coming over him, when he realised what Regulus meant, why he had come here at all – before he got to his feet.

"Draco –"

He turned as he reached the door.

" – say nothing to anyone."

Draco nodded, understanding, and hurried down to the dorm rooms.

It was easy to do as Regulus asked without anyone noticing him. The Castle was almost entirely deserted after what had happened before the holidays – the Battle of Hogwarts and Snape's murdering of Dumbledore a good enough reason for almost every kid in the school to go home and be with their families that year – so there were no questions at all to dodge from anyone other than himself.

Questions such as whether or not he really trusted Regulus Black.

And did he _really_ want to spend the next two years until he came of age with him, his mudblood wife and with Malachi, who, surely, hated him, now, after what Draco had done to him.

And had his mother been right when she'd asserted the safest place for him was by his father's side – the Dark Lord's side – and that following Regulus Black and his promises was nothing more than suicide.

Foolish fantasies.

Draco ignored all the questions because – despite the many that surged up, continuing to fill his mind with doubts – none of them were enough to drive it away.

That which Regulus Black actually had offered him.

Hope.

And so, Draco did as he told him to, packing up in silence – speaking to no one – and he didn't even bother taking everything, just the essentials, so that he was ready and done, heading up to the entrance lobby within twenty minutes, finding the man standing there waiting with a smile.

"All set?"

Draco nodded.

He found it difficult not to smile, under the beaming one of his cousin's.

Regulus put a hand on his shoulder, the two of them heading from the school, and Draco felt his nerves increasing with each step they took. Relief and nervousness and uncertainty waring within him until they reached the gates.

Regulus held out an arm once they were off Hogwarts grounds, and Draco did as he was supposed to, taking it for side-along apparition – he'd learned and done it many times through the summer, while in service to the Dark Lord – and he was pulled along with him.

Draco had thought – expected – that the two of them were heading to the covert location of the Black family home.

Instead, the sight that greeted them as the daze of apparition wore off, were the gates of the Aurelius Foundation.

* * *

Harry lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind still reeling about what he'd overheard between his mum and his Uncle Remus and Mr. Black the week before, on New Year's Eve.

A conversation that seemed to explain his mum's continuing erratic behaviour; frequently leaving him and Grace with Julia or with Remus or with Tonks, all week, while she slipped out to 'work'.

Harry was pretty sure he knew – if not where, at least _who_ she was with.

For the conversation Harry had overheard had basically confirmed to him not only that he was right – Snape _was_ still on their side – but that Dumbledore had actually _ordered_ him to do it.

Had told Snape to _kill_ _him_ , in order to advance their steps in the war.

The thought made Harry's gut churn, again, as he turned it over and over in his mind. All that people were giving up, and all that they were willing to do – Dumbledore willing to die and Snape willing to do it – to fight back against Voldemort and win.

If they would even win.

Harry closed his eyes against the unwelcome thought. The very idea that – after all that had been done – they might actually lose.

That it would all be for nothing.

His mum had been almost frantic this past week, since that night – New Year – and he had seen the headlines of the Prophet on the kitchen table every morning, Voldemort and the Death Eater's advancing, as morale amongst the light dimmed with each passing day following the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry's bedroom door opened, and his mum marched into the room, up to his wardrobe. He sat up, frowning, "Mum?"

She pulled out a bag and headed over to him, in an obvious hurry, and put it onto the bed, "All your clothes are sorted. Anything else you think you need, that you can pack into this within the next five minutes, get them, and come downstairs."

"What's going on?"

His mum didn't answer him, hurrying from his room and into her own, and Harry followed her, quickly, to her doorway, watching as she accioed and added bits and pieces to the top of her own already-packed bag and she shot him a look.

"This is all I need, Mummy!" Grace held up her favourite book and their mum gave her a smile, before shooting Harry a look, and Harry could tell that whatever was going on – and he had a fairly good idea – he had to be quick, so he turned and hurried back into him room.

Quickly gathering together anything he thought he might need – which wasn't much – though he was careful to make sure his Invisibility Cloak was in the bag. And some books. Some moving pictures.

Daphne's scarf.

He tucked his wand into his sleeve, zipped up the small bag and lifted it up over his shoulder, hurrying back into his mum's room just in time to see her flick her wand, minimising the large holdall she had just finished packing into much smaller one that could pass for a handbag and she hurried around, grabbing Grace by the hand.

"Come on."

"Mum, where are we going?" Harry hurried after them down the stairs.

"You'll see."

They didn't stop in their steps, hurrying straight through the kitchen and out the door – not bothering to say bye to the house, even if Harry was sure, now, that they wouldn't be coming back here any time soon, his panic rising with each step they made up the path – and once they got past the boundary of the Fidelius his mum stopped, swinging Grace up onto her hip.

"Whee!"

"Harry, take my arm."

Harry did.

Within a few seconds, they were at the gates to the Foundation.

His mum hurried up, sharing a nod with one of the guards, handing over a piece of parchment that the man studied before he asked her three questions.

"Your Patronus form?"

"A doe."

He eyed a scroll he appeared to have in front of him.

"Your daughter's date of birth."

"May fourth, nineteen eighty-nine."

"Your code-word."

His mum stepped forward, speaking it quietly, so low that Harry couldn't hear it.

The man nodded, before writing something down on the pass; "Your new code, Mrs Potter."

His mum took it, reading it, but before Harry could see what it said – leaning in behind her to look – the word vanished in a sprinkle of glitter just as the gates opened and his mum took him by the arm, ushering him on inside, and as she did Harry noticed others appearing behind them, apparating in behind the gates, which closed on them before they could follow the three of them in.

The guards at the gates appeared to go through the same process with the new arriving family, as his mum hurried up to the building with Grace still on her hip and Harry on her heels.

The Foundation was bustling.

It wasn't as busy as it normally was but there were people running back and forth through the corridors and across the lobby, calling out orders and instructions to one another, a sense of excitement or, perhaps, of panic in the air and his mum ushered them straight through the entrance hall and through the other side, to the door that led out onto the back of the grounds.

Harry looked back over his shoulder at the main building of the Foundation and, when he did, he noticed people he knew through the windows, most of them gathering in the ballroom.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were there, Harry noticed, and Bill.

He was sure he could see Ron, too. All the Weasleys, actually.

And he could see Tonks and Remus.

Mad-Eye Moody was at their side, but they weren't standing about with the small, gathered crowd, they were moving about, eyes focused, as if waiting and preparing for something to come, speaking amongst themselves.

Harry noticed Draco Malfoy, sitting at one of the tables in the corner, alone.

"Mum, Mum!" Harry hurried up alongside her, as she pulled open the door to the Tonks Facility, " _What_ is going on?"

"Am I going back to the Learning Centre, Mummy?" Grace asked, looking excitedly down the corridor, but she frowned when she noticed that – while everything outside the building was exactly the same – everything inside was different.

They walked down the corridor, past all the new doors, most shut, but some were open, and Harry could see that the interior had been divided up and made into rooms.

His mum stopped in front of one of them, putting Grace down to lift her wand and muttered an incantation. The door sprung open, and the three of them went into the chamber.

Harry stood just over the threshold, Grace just in front of him, the two of them looking around the interior, in curiousness and confusion.

It was a small room, with nothing more than a couch, a cooling unit in the corner, an empty bookcase and a table with three chairs. To the back of the room, Harry could see through a door that led into a bathroom and, on the right-hand side wall, were two doors. Doors into bedrooms.

Grace hurried towards one of them, "I get to pick the best room!"

"I'm afraid two of us are going to have to share, Sweetheart," his mum said, smiling after her, as she put the bag she carried onto the couch, flicking her wand and returning it to its normal size.

Harry noticed there were already two bags in there, one of them open, and he could see some of his own clothes packed inside of it. As if his mum had been preparing this room – this space – for them, all along.

Harry hurried up to her, "Mum. What – are we staying here, at the Foundation? _Why_?"

"There's two beds in this one, Mummy! It's got pink covers on both! Am I sharing with you?"

"Yes, that's probably best," his mum said, smiling at her sister, who was standing back in the doorway of the room she'd decided was theirs, before his mum turned to Harry, a hand on his arm as she nodded, "Yes. You'll understand soon."

Harry realised she couldn't tell him anything yet. Realised – by the number of people already there – that they had been some of the very last to arrive; to keep it from Voldemort for as long as possible. Just in case he happened to look inside his head.

"Harry!"

Harry turned at the voice, finding Malachi at the doorway, smiling widely at him, obviously glad to see him.

"Hey," Harry hurried up to him, casting a glance over his shoulder at his mum who smiled and nodded that he go ahead – safe now, apparently – and the two of them went out of the room.

"What's going on, what is all of this?" Harry asked him, frowningly, as Malachi tugged him up the corridor.

"Something's going on," Malachi told him, "My dad brought us here right after we saw you at New Year. Draco – _Draco_ is here, too, my dad's looking after him. There's a ton of people in the ballroom right now – I think they're waiting for my dad – there was just a few of us the first few days, just day guests – your mum was here _a lot_ – but more people started coming in last night and this morning. I don't know _why_ there's so many rooms in here – mostly it's Order members staying and some Foundation staff – muggleborns and the senior members – but…" Malachi stopped, finally taking a breath; "I think it's actually really bad, Harry. I've overheard some of the stuff they've been saying. I…I think we're about to lose."

Harry stared back at Malachi, almost gobsmacked – by everything but especially _that_.

"Lose? As in, lose the _war_?"

Malachi nodded, "Yeah. They're calling this the safe house. The 'resistance' or whatever, to fight back when V – when _he_ takes power. They're saying it like it's inevitable. Like it's happening right now. My dad's been – I've never seen him like this. He's totally _wired_. Like. Nervous and scared and excited, all at once."

Harry stared back at Malachi, pretty sure he understood the feeling, with the way his own heart was starting to race and his palms became sweaty.

They couldn't be about to lose the war.

That was…that was _impossible._

After everything they had done, trying to win. It would all be for nothing.

"Regulus Black is about to speak," Harry heard someone saying as they dashed down the corridor, addressing the person who walked along at their side.

Harry and Malachi shared a look, before they hurried down the corridor back in the direction of the main building.

* * *

Regulus drew in a breath, eyes closed, as he attempted to steady his nerves.

Tried to convince himself that Severus' plan wasn't absolutely ludicrous.

That Voldemort wasn't going to just turn up here the second the Ministry succumbed to the coup that was – likely at this very moment – taking place and simply wipe out the Foundation and every single person that he and Lily had lured here, promising protection and a manner by which to fight and resist the regime that would soon be imposed upon them.

Regulus pressed his hands to his face, hearing the crowd on the other side of the door to the ballroom, waiting for him.

Looking to him.

He had made speeches and jokes and addressed the packed-to-the-brim ballroom at least a hundred times before but – this time – words failed him.

Words failed him in this critical moment, when he had to go before these people and ask them if they could possibly be willing to tie their fates to his and stand with him against one of the most brutal, most wicked of all dark wizards, _now_ , when he was about to finally ascend and reach the height of his power.

Stand with him, even once the war was lost, and oppose the regime of the next ruler of the Wizarding World.

"Hey."

Regulus smiled, in spite of himself, lowering his hands, and his eyes met Julia's where she was standing before him. Having snuck up on him, it seemed, during his quiet moment of panic.

"Hm. They waiting for me?"

Julia took his hands, returning his smile, "They can wait. Until you're ready."

Regulus touched his forehead to hers, drawing in a breath.

"Ready, huh? To ask all these people to put their trust in me to protect them. Gotta say my track record on that isn't exactly stellar."

"Stop," Julia lifted her chin, speaking firmly even if her eyes were warm, "They're not here because they want you to protect them. They're here because this is what they believe in. And, Regulus, you can't take responsibility for the principles that they're standing up for or for their deaths if that's what it comes to. They're making their own choices. What _you_ do, the Foundation, is rally them together. It gives them strength in numbers, and it gives them purpose and it lets them know that they're _heard_ and that they can do something _._ Now, at a time when they would be running, you give them strength. You give them _hope_."

Regulus kept his eyes on hers for a moment – mesmerised by her gaze and her words – and then he sighed, drawing her to him and holding her close.

They lingered there a moment – he indulging himself that they had the time – and then he pressed his lips to her temple, drawing in a breath, breathing her in, before he stepped back – giving her a smile as he did – and he headed into the ballroom.

It wasn't as full as it would be during a function.

Not yet.

Soon, if what Severus had warned he and Lily about came to pass, it would be.

It would be packed with muggleborns and those who opposed Voldemort – those Voldemort sought to subjugate, murder, throw into Azkaban – all who the Foundation and the Order could reach and save, before Death Eaters or Snatchers could find them.

Assuming, of course, that this was all not just some ludicrous fantasy – one of those which Narcissa accused Regulus of living in during their final moments together – the belief that he could actually do this and had, somehow, managed to fool Severus and Lily – and all of these people – into believing they were going to be powerful enough to make any sort of difference.

A hush settled over the room as Regulus stepped up onto the stage, all eyes and attention upon him, as he turned to face them.

He smiled, lifting his eyebrows.

"Well. Here we are," he shifted, under the eyes of all who had come, "I know I'm usually _excellent_ at this. Making speeches and doing my best to make you all laugh along with me at what is becoming a rather horrendous world, indeed. But…this isn't the time for jokes. We all know what's happening over there. The Ministry is crumbling. And, when it finally does – very soon – we all have to make a choice. Do we bow or do we rise?"

There was a little stir, people sharing looks, whispers exchanged between one another.

Regulus' eyes found Malachi then, unexpectedly, when he hurriedly walked into the room – Harry on his heels – and took a place at the back of the crowd, eyes meeting his, as eager as everyone else in the room to listen to what his father had to say.

His son.

His son who had been raised in shadows. His boy's entire life spent in hiding. Losing his entire _childhood_ to this war and this darkness that Regulus was asking these people to embrace. To come into with him. To fight. His boy who, despite it all, had emerged into the world, the most remarkable person that Regulus had ever known.

Refusing to be beaten down, to become bitter, to turn away from his own principles and who he was despite everyone and everything that fought back against him, telling him that he was wrong.

That he was unworthy.

His son was the best of them.

The best that they could be.

If they would only stand strong and fight back.

Malachi smiled at him. Eyes of warmth and affection and love.

Unbroken.

Even now, after all that he had been through, his son was still unbroken.

Refusing to bow.

Regulus smiled.

And then he laughed, rolling his eyes, drawing the attention of all back to the stage.

"Who am I kidding?" he looked at them all, before lifting his chin, "We _rise_."

Chins lifted, bodies turned fully to face him, rapt attention upon him now, as Regulus went on, with more conviction that he had ever felt.

"It won't be easy. In fact, I'm sure we're all going to be pretty damn miserable for a very long time. Not just us. _Everyone_. But the only way we can put end to that is if we _do_ rise up and fight back. It may seem as if all is lost – for how could it possibly get any _worse –_ but this is just the beginning. If we don't fight back, we will keep on losing, descending further and further into darkness, and this misery we've been feeling for far too long, already, will just go on and on. _That_ will be our legacy. Our children's future. Their children's future. Our fight, our war, our _surrender_ , will become theirs. Well. I will play no part in that. _I won't give up_. _Never_ will I bow before Voldemort. Of course, he'd just squash me like an insect, if I tried to do this alone. So, I am asking all of you to please, _stand_ with me and fight back. Resist his rule. Together, we can do this. And we _will_ do this."

There was a silence in the ballroom.

Every eye upon him.

The drop of a pin on the floor would echo throughout the stillness of the room.

"They'll be here soon. All are free to stay or to go. So, anyone who wishes to leave, do so now. But know this. Those of us who stay _will_ become undesirables. We are _all_ enemies of the state of Lord Voldemort."

Regulus' eyes glanced over them all – at all who stared back at him – and then he took a step back, meaning to leave the stage – the room – but, before he could, a single clap rung out in the silence, stopping him.

Another.

And another.

One person, and then two, and then five, and then, suddenly, the room was filled with the thump, thump, thump of claps in time with a steady heartbeat.

"Black."

A voice rung out.

"Black."

Another.

"Black. Black. Black. Black. Black."

His name suddenly filled the hall, a chant, in time with the claps and the thud of feet stomping on the floor as he stared back at them, his heartbeat no longer in time with the claps of those before him – suddenly beating off-track, erratically – as he stared back at them in amazement, in wonder, at the crowd before him who cheered him.

His eyes sought Julia, where she stood at the back of the crowd beside Malachi now – Lily, Harry and Grace with them – and Julia smiled at him, her arm around Malachi shoulders, and his son smiled, too, widely, at him. Pride and love evident in both their expressions as they looked back at him as the claps and the chants carried on.

Regulus released a breath that trembled, giving a wavering smile to the crowd and ducking his head, before he stepped down from the stage and the steady claps became applause as he walked down past them, walked by their smiles and their nods and their words of approval, to his wife and son where they stood.

Regulus reached for them, hands going to each of their arms, while the applause continued and he smiled at them – at the two who gave _him_ strength and hope – and they just carried on looking at him with looks of pride and adoration until Regulus nudged them, urging them back.

Still work to be done.

The three of them headed from the room, Lily and her children on their heels.

"Mr. Black," Wilbur Rankin, his Security Supervisor, stepped up immediately when they emerged from the ballroom.

"Wilbur."

"Situation at the post, Sir. Ministry Aurors asking to speak with you."

Regulus squeezed Julia's arm, before sharing a knowing look with Lily; "Could be it. Better get everything ready."

He pressed his lips to Julia's cheek, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I'll be right back."

Regulus winked at Malachi as he passed – his son giving him a small smile in return, even if he looked as uneasy as all of them who stood there, watching him go – as he headed out onto the grounds, making his way over the mound and down to the gates.

Five aurors were standing there, three of whom he recognised by name – Cobalt, Hayes and Kingsley – and two he recognised simply from his frequenting the Ministry whenever the occasion called for it.

Regulus nodded, stopping when he was in hearing distance, along the boundary of the wards that – at present moment – still held, signalling that the Ministry had not yet fallen completely.

"Gentlemen," Regulus greeted them, with a wide smile, spreading his hands, "What can I do for you?"

"Regulus Black, you are under arrest," Kingsley said in his booming voice, eyes upon him, steadily, and Regulus raised his eyebrows.

" _Arrest_?" Regulus repeated and he saw Cobalt's lips twitch – Kingsley remaining as serious as ever – while the two aurors in the back snickered, sharing a glance, "On what grounds, may I ask?"

"On grounds of treason, Mr. Black. Crimes against the very nature of the state, including espionage, sedition, incitation of violence and intentions to overthrow the existing governing body."

"Ah."

Regulus bit his lip, thinkingly for a second, before leaning forward with a little grin, "I think you have me mistaken for someone else, Gentlemen."

There were more chuckles, now, as the aurors looked between one another.

Cobalt stepped forward, coming in beside Kingsley, speaking in a tone as if trying to reason with him, "Reg. If you don't come with us now, he will come here and he will crush this place. And anyone else in there with you."

Regulus simply gave Cobalt a smile, unabashedly, before lifting his chin, and looking around the five of them.

"This Foundation…will not fall. So, if Voldemort _wants_ me –"

Regulus grinned, lifting his hands at his sides.

"Then he's just going to have to come and get me."

The aurors laughed, then, shaking their heads amongst themselves – all but Kingsley Shacklebolt, the would-be-Secret-Keeper – and Kingsley motioned with his head that they go.

Cobalt smiled at Regulus, following the three who were already making their departure, leaving Kingsley who kept his eyes on Regulus. Speaking, only when the others were out of earshot.

"It's happening. You have ten minutes."

* * *

"The wards are coming down; we need to lock this place down now!" Regulus said, as he burst into his office, where Lily, Julia and the Order members who'd made it were gathered.

"Not everyone's here yet, Uncle Reg," Tonks said, with a frown, "Kingsley –"

"Voldemort's coming, we can't wait," Regulus stepped up beside them, a hand on Tonks' arm before addressing them all, "The wards won't hold. We need to evoke the Fidelius – Kingsley's been called in; he's out, now, as Secret Keeper. Lily and I can't do it, we need –"

"I'll do it," Julia immediately said from where she stood by Lily's side and Regulus shook his head.

"It needs to be someone out there on the field, able to give the location to people as they're being brought in –"

"Then me," Tonks piped up, stepping in front of Regulus.

"No."

Regulus turned away from her, as Tonks' hair flared bright red, looking at the others – the Order members – in the room and Mad-Eye Moody nodded, volunteering himself.

"Aye, alright. But one of you better get out there, scout out everyone in the building quick as you can. Once this charm is set, anyone within the boundaries will be privy to the location, without the need of me to speak it to 'em. Just the same as me bringing them in here, myself."

"We'll go," Tonks said, hair still bright red, taking Remus by arm, the two of them heading to the door, just as it burst open without a knock; Malachi, "Dad. It's him!"

Regulus stepped away, hand going to Lily's arm, meeting her eyes; "You can do it."

Lily nodded, while Regulus, Tonks and Remus stepped out the room.

Mad-Eye came towards Lily where she stood.

"Alright, Pet, we've got one chance at this."

Lily nodded, leading him over to the desk where the plans and perimeter were all sketched out.

"One chance is all we need."

* * *

Severus strode up the clearing, flanked by Bellatrix Lestrange on his right and the Dark Lord, himself, on his left.

The right-hand man to the newly ascended Dark Lord.

The coup at the Ministry having gone flawlessly – early – sooner and more perfectly than had been planned. Barty Crouch; Amelia Bones; Rufus Scrimgeour all eliminated. Their replacements – all under the influence of the Imperius – ready to be slipped in to take their places.

The Foundation came into view.

Severus remained calm.

There was still time.

They – Severus, the Dark Lord and all of his Death Eaters, all masked and ready for combat – halted at the gates. Awaiting the imminent fall of the wards.

Severus saw Regulus appear over the mound, stopping in his steps when he saw them.

For a moment, it was only Regulus.

And then Severus caught sight of Harry behind him – Malachi at his side – Regulus seeming unaware of the presence of their boys behind him.

At first.

Until Malachi hollered down at those beyond the gates; "Come and get us then, you _bastard_!" 

Regulus spun to face his son as Harry laughed.

There was a moment where father and son just looked at one another and then, when Regulus turned back around, a smile played on his lips.

Malachi and Harry walked down further, coming to stand at each side of Regulus.

Others appeared, then, slowly coming over the edge of the mound to stand behind them – with them – the Dark Lord's most-wanted, while Regulus lifted his chin, impertinently.

Staring the Dark Lord down.

Even from here, Severus knew his friend's eyes were sparkling with familiar mischief.

And then Regulus lifted his hand, touching his fingers to his lips, before the _idiot_ blew the Dark Lord a kiss.

The Dark Lord snarled quietly beside him.

Severus smirked.

For a moment, all seemed suspended in time.

And then, suddenly, in a flash, the Foundation vanished before their eyes.

As if it were never there in the first place.

The rise of the resistance.

As the Dark Lord roared at Severus' side.


	84. January 1996: Brave New World

The door to the bathroom opened up behind where Malachi sat on the couch – in their new, _tiny_ living quarters – the room suddenly filling with the steam built up from a very long shower and, a few moments later, Draco strode passed, chin held high, stark naked with the exception of a towel that hung loosely around his waist.

Malachi stared at him as he passed while Draco simply ignored his existence.

He went into the room to Malachi's left – their new, shared bedroom – and shut the door.

Malachi eyed it in annoyance, Draco's continuing brazen rudeness and disregard for his family starting to grate.

The house by the lake that Malachi wasn't sure felt much like home suddenly felt _way_ more preferable than it had in recent weeks – he sure regretted complaining and comparing it to their real home in Crail, now – and tried to focus on the parchment resting on his drawn up knees, dipping his quill into the ink jar beside him.

Murmured voices and soft laughter from the other bedroom, slightly behind him, made him roll his eyes.

Malachi peered more intently at the words he was writing, determined not to be put off his train of thought, even when their laughter became giggles, their tones more hushed, and then, of course, came the unmistakable sound of _enthusiastic snogging_ and Malachi flipped his head in their direction.

"Ugh. Can you at least close the _door_? You're not the only two people living here, you know."

His dad's grinning face immediately popped around the doorframe, eyebrows lifting, "Keeping you off your work, Son? My apologies."

Malachi shot him a look, as Julia appeared behind his dad, chuckling as she walked out from their room, and headed over to the cooling unit.

"Well, I can certain sympathise with that –" she pulled out a bottle of water, taking a drink, "You _do_ have a rather distracting quality about you, Black."

Malachi looked at Julia, dressed in the white tabard that she now wore over her dress, in lieu of her usual robes – the loss of the loose fabric making her pregnancy extremely obvious to anyone who looked – and he immediately straightened up when he took in her Healing attire.

"Oh, are you heading back down to the Healing unit?" he glanced between the two of them, "Did they bring more people in?"

His dad stepped towards him, shaking his head as a hand went to his shoulder but, before either of them could answer the door to his shared bedroom with Draco opened and Draco strode out – completely ignoring all of them, as he had been doing ever since his dad had brought him home – striding to the door, obviously intending to just leave and stay out of sight all day, again.

"Hey, Draco," his dad called after him, hastily rounding the couch and Draco stopped, meeting his dad's eyes with obvious reluctance.

"There's food in the cooling unit, I brought it over for breakfast –"

"Saw it. Had some in my room this morning."

When his dad just continued to look at him, Draco added as an obvious after-thought; "Thanks."

His dad nodded.

"Well. Good. That's what it's there for. Do help yourself to anything –" his dad said, shooting a look at Malachi when he glowered at him, pretty sure his dad would smack him up the back of the head and give him a good telling-off if he dared to be such an arse as Draco was being to them, " – this is our – um – our joint home for the time being," he met Julia's eyes, who gave Draco – who barely met her eyes – a warm smile, before his dad went on.

"We have the six o' clock slot in the Bistro for dinner tonight. Don't be late this time, alright? It mucks up the system, a bit, when people diverge from the arrangement and we need to get things running as smoothly as possible before more people start coming in."

Draco met his eyes, looking a little bit sheepish that time, but just nodded.

Not apologizing for the fact he'd been either not turning up – or turning up two minutes before their dining slot was due to end and the next group were waiting to come in for theirs – and being downright _rude_ to his dad and Julia, to boot – staring at her stomach as if she were carrying the Dark Lord's child, himself.

Draco turned and headed out the door, without another word.

The atmosphere seemed to immediately lighten with his departure.

"Well," Julia capped the bottle she held and dropped it into the pocket of her tabard, "I'm no stranger to prickly – I was a bit of a diva, myself – but I have to say, your warnings were a little off the mark. Spoiled, no doubt, by this one."

She ruffled Malachi's hair as she passed – Malachi smiling up at her, over his knees – and made her way to his dad.

Julia looked at his dad, affectionately, adding a little more quietly, "He needs you, that one."

His dad nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "See you at dinner?"

"Wait," Malachi quickly stopped her departure, "How come you're heading down to work? Are you expecting some more people in soon? Is there going to be another big fight –"

"Hey, take it easy, Son," his dad chuckled, approaching, and dropping down onto the couch beside him, while Julia smiled, shaking her head.

"No big emergencies, Kid. But there's always those everyday aches and pains and ailments that we all need to see a Healer for, right? I'll see you two tonight."

She headed from the room, and when the door clicked shut completely, Malachi _relaxed_ completely, finally in the company of just his dad and shot him a look.

" _Why_ am I sharing a room with Draco?"

"Because, Son, there is a distinct set-up within each of the quarters – two bedrooms for all, no excuses, unless the family exceeds five."

"You're the _leader,_ couldn't you have made us a bigger place if you were gonna bring home my cousin who _hates_ me?"

"And what sort of message would that have sent, hm? Us living in grandeur while the rest of them slum it? Nope. And Draco doesn't hate _you_ , Son," his dad rubbed Malachi's shoulder, with a smile, "He hates me, if anyone, and, even then, not really. He's angry. He's hurting. He's alone. He needs to know he has people in the world who care about him."

Malachi sighed, eyes turning back to the parchment on his lap.

His dad peered at it, curiously, "That another one you've got for us?"

Malachi met his eyes, reddening a bit, under the immediate shine of pride his dad's eyes as he nodded.

His dad grinned more widely, the hand on Malachi's shoulder squeezing, before he tilted down his chin, "Have I told you today how proud I am of you –"

"Think the ten thousand times you've said it the past few weeks probably makes up for missing one today."

" – well, let me rectify that mistake, I am _very_ proud of you, my son," he grinned, patting his shoulder, before going on, "These are going to make all the difference. So long as we keep getting your words out there, people are going to know that there's still a chance."

Malachi's shoulders shook, as he gave his dad a smile.

"You're the one making the difference, Dad."

It was his dad's turn to look bashful, then, under his son's praise, before Malachi nodded at the door.

"Julia; she seems really happy to go back to work."

His dad nodded, eyes brightening at the change of subject.

"That she is. It was a huge part of who she was before … Well. She loves it. Healing. Helping people."

Malachi could tell just by looking at him, that his dad felt guilty. Guilty at all Julia had given up for him. Even if he was trying to hide it and accept that it was up to her, like he'd told Malachi the summer before.

"Not as much as she loves you, Dad," Malachi said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, "You're both really happy. It's pretty gross."

His dad met his eyes, grinning at him, "Well. With your baby sister on the way, that is _only_ going to get _worse_ , Son."

He seized him and pressed a firm kiss to the top of Malachi's head – _"urgh!" –_ before he got to his feet.

"You know the rules, right?"

"Same as always. Stay on the grounds. Don't get killed –"

" – Don't goad madmen on the other side of the gates," his dad added, in a tone meant to imitate Malachi's own mocking one.

"Like you're one to talk, Dad," Malachi chuckled.

His dad ruffled his hair, "See you tonight. You need me before then, office door's open, alright?"

Malachi nodded, turning back to writing his article – finally alone and able to think – while his dad headed off, ready to get planning whatever the next steps were to bring Voldemort down.

* * *

Harry was bored.

He lay on his back on the cushion on the ballroom floor, half-heartedly playing with the snitch that hovered above him, snatching it from the air whenever it came within distance.

Squeals and laughter came from the other side of the room, at the cordoned off area, where all the younger kids that would normally be attending the Learning Center were running around, playing games, their lessons still carrying on as normal despite the new change in circumstances.

A flash of lightening and a crash of thunder outside the windows made the children scream with exaggerated fright.

Malachi and Ron spoke to one another beside him, Harry barely even listening, his mind on Hogwarts.

Thoughts lingering on Daphne and their mornings and evenings in the Astronomy Tower and he wondered at her – how she was doing – back there without him. Wondered if she missed him like he missed her.

And he found himself longing for the previous term, when they were together – and Snape was there – and he tried, hard as he could, not to let his thoughts linger on the man for too long.

Couldn't help it, though.

They always strayed to Snape, eventually, these days. So often that, when Ron said it, Harry almost missed it; mistaking it for his own thoughts.

"…pretty awful there, now that Snape's been assigned as Headmaster."

Malachi didn't say anything.

And it took a second for the statement to sink in.

Harry sat up; "Snape? _Snape_ is Headmaster at Hogwarts?"

Ron nodded; "Yeah. Mental, right? Heard it on the radio this morning. School's gonna start back up tomorrow and they've got bloody _Death Eaters_ going in there now, as Professors of Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Can just imagine what they're teaching everyone."

Harry shared a look with Malachi, knowing he was surely thinking the same thing; that Snape _should not_ be back at Hogwarts right now.

Not ever.

"Good thing Professor McGonagall and the other professors are staying put. After what Snape did, they'll not be letting him off easy."

Harry cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, and forced down the immediate urge that swelled up within him to defend Snape. Obviously, he couldn't do that.

Malachi glanced at him, briefly, with obvious concern before he redirected the conversation, saying; "Feel sorry for the muggleborns."

Ron nodded; "Not just the ones at Hogwarts. Bill was telling me they're pushing through legislation right now, making it law that… wait –" Ron broke off, seeming to spot something, and he got up and went over to one of the tables, coming back with a copy of the Daily Prophet that he tossed onto Harry's lap.

Harry eyed it, quickly skimming the words before him.

"They're pushing that through. That it's not possible for a person to even be muggleborn – not unless there's an ancestor of theirs that was a true witch or wizard. They're making out that real muggles can't bear magical kids, that they must either be squibs or descendants of squibs and, if not, then the muggleborn with the magic must have stolen it. If a muggleborn can't prove it – that they've got someone of magical blood in their family tree – then they're getting put in Azkaban for –"

" _What?"_ Malachi was outraged.

Harry stared at Ron, horrified, when he looked up from reading the article he'd shown him, which said the very same thing.

"There's a list of people being called before the Ministry –" Harry said, quickly turning the pages of the Prophet; " – Muggleborns who have to go in front of these 'hearings'. With a Dolores Umbridge –" he broke off, coming to the list.

There were dates and names listed across both spread pages.

Harry's eyes quickly skimmed the page, looking for Potter, finding it listed a few days from now.

Lily Potter nee Evans, hearing date the nineteenth of January, at eleven am.

Harry glowered at it, furiously, offended and outraged on his mum's behalf, that they'd consider her unworthy – untrue – of being a witch, under any circumstances.

His eyes drifted back up the page then, to today's date – the fourteenth – and the first group called forth.

Julia Black nee Bradbury, fourteenth of January, two pm.

Harry glanced at the timepiece. It was almost four.

"What happens if they don't show up to the hearing?" Harry wondered, aloud.

"Straight to Azkaban, if the aurors or Death Eaters get their hands of them."

Harry met Malachi's eyes, who had also been reading Julia's name.

Harry tossed aside the offending newspaper, telling himself it didn't matter.

Both his mum and Julia were fugitives anyway – in fact, he was pretty certain Voldemort had a much worse fate planned for both of them than Azkaban if he should ever get his hands on either of them – but, still, Harry felt incensed. His blood boiling at the very thought of it; that his mum would get thrown behind bars simply for daring to be born with magic in her blood.

Unworthy of being a witch in her own right.

"Ron Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called across the ballroom.

Ron nodded, before turning back to them, "Four o' clock dinner slot."

"Six."

"Same."

Ron looked disappointed, giving a nod, "Catch you later." He got to his feet, heading over to where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny stood, the three of them heading out of the ballroom to head to the Bistro were the meals of the day were set up to be served.

Another crash of thunder outside the window made the kids at the other side of the room scream – enough of a racket that Harry could feel himself start to get a headache – and he got to his feet, indicating with his head that Malachi follow.

The two of them _strolled,_ basically, entirely aimlessly around the entrance lobby; nothing much else to do.

"You been listening in on any of your dad's meetings?" Harry asked, knowing it was nosey, but bored and keen to hear about anything that was going on beyond the walls.

Malachi shook his head, "Nothing. I asked if he'd heard anything about Hogwarts – Daphne – but he clammed up pretty quick. Think because – well. I guess, if what Ron just said is right, it'd have something to do with Severus."

Harry nodded.

He tried to look on the positive side of it. Snape being at Hogwarts – if there were Death Eaters there – he'd at least be able to take care of Daphne. The thought made him uneasy, that she was there at all, after Astoria.

He and Malachi passed the Bistro, where a small queue was forming, now, for the four o' clock dinner slot and Harry smiled, giving a nod to the Weasleys lined up as they walked by them.

There was a little crowd gathered near the front of the entrance lobby, as they made their way through the other side, a small congregation of people who stood and read the mounted articles on the wall that Malachi had written, some of them seeming to be in deep discussion and debate about the points that were made in each one.

"Actually, I did hear something," Malachi said, as they headed up to the door that led to the offices – a restricted area, with guards on either side of the frame – and Malachi nodded at one of the Security Officers, who gave him a smile and stepped aside, letting them through without question, " – apparently they're gonna start giving us some lessons, too. With the Foundation operations being mostly suspended, a lot of the staff staying here don't have much to do –"

"What, like the rest of us?"

"Right. So, I overheard my dad and Healer Heart talking; while he's dealing with all the war stuff, she's gonna be sorting out all the day-to-day goings on over where we are. They're gonna see if some of the staff want to do tutorials and workshops and stuff with us."

"Like defence?" Harry piped up.

"Well. They're researchers and healers and counsellors, mostly, so it'd be more likely to be potions experiments and stuff. Think they said something about public speaking – no thanks."

Harry swallowed, mind back on Snape at the mention of potions, but shrugged, as it didn't sound all that bad; "Suppose it passes the time."

The two of them peered curiously around the area – Harry especially intrigued, as it was the first time he'd been in this side of the building since the stand-off with Voldemort and the Fidelius had been enacted – and they carried on exploring, looking around, glancing in each of the doors as they passed.

It was almost entirely deserted, this side of the building.

Harry thought it would have been bustling. Full of energy and excitement, as the Order and everyone else involved tried to come up with strategies to bring down Voldemort and end the war.

Instead, there was complete silence.

It wasn't until they were on the floor below that they heard voices and Harry realised, looking ahead, that the Healers unit that had been set up was through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

Harry could see Julia through the small window, moving around the room, obviously working.

The voices weren't coming from the Healing unit though.

They came from the door a few steps away on their right.

He and Malachi crept up to it, not even entertaining the notion that they wouldn't try to eavesdrop – to get a little bit more information on what was going on beyond their own protected bubble – and Harry heard a voice he didn't recognise speaking.

" … sort out what's going on with these hearings."

"There's a team out there now," Mr. Black's voice said, "Mad-Eye's leading a group to try and recover any that we can. My wife was on that list, as it so happens."

"It's all a ruse. And these crooks that are going around profiting on people's desperation with those family tree offers. Absolutely scandalous –"

Suddenly, a door a few feet down the hall burst open – one that Harry knew led down to the basement level and the tunnels – and people, sopping wet from the rain of the storm outside and shivering and crying and, some even, _bleeding_ poured into the corridor.

Voices run out, then, Mad-Eye Moody's and his mum's and Tonks', all calling over one another.

"Keep on going, straight ahead."

"Gonna need Healer Bradbury for this one, Mad-Eye."

"Go on ahead, Nymphadora; this one's gone, I think."

Mr. Black pulled open the door behind Harry and Malachi, stepping out, as if making to go down and greet the newcomers but he stopped, looking startled at coming face to face with the two of them, instead.

"Malachi."

Malachi's eyes were on the people coming down the hall – especially the crying and the wounded – with a look of disconcertion and Mr. Black put a hand on his arm, indicating with his head that Harry follow them, as he led them back towards the stairs.

"Come on, Healing Unit's just up here," Harry heard Mad-Eye saying behind them; "Get you fixed right up."

Harry glanced over his shoulder, at the man Tonks' was supporting, blood soaking through his robes and head lolling as he stumbled along.

"Is daddy going to be okay?" a little voice said, somewhere amongst the crowd.

Harry frowned, turning away, the voice immediately reminding him of Grace, and he felt uneasy, then, when faced with a proper look at what was going on out there; people suffering and dying, his own mum going out and risking her own life trying to get people to safety, while he was tucked up safe and sound behind the Foundation walls.

Harry didn't realise his hands were shaking until he, Mr. Black and Malachi reached the top of the stairs.

"You boys alright?" Mr. Black looked at them both, with obvious concern, a hand on Malachi's arm.

Malachi nodded.

So did Harry.

Even if he felt nothing close to being alright. Shaken by what he'd just seen; the muggleborns, he realised, who'd only just been rescued, escaping Azkaban and – obviously – an attack by Death Eaters.

"Is…Is it always like that?" Malachi asked, looking at his dad, uneasily.

Mr. Black gave him a lopsided smile, a nod; "Sometimes. Depends. There's a fair few Death Eaters beyond the gates right now. But we're working on that. Might get easier bringing them in, once we start making things a bit more difficult for him out there."

Mr. Black spoke with a hint of optimism in his voice, even if he did seem affected, just as they were, by the sight of those who'd just been saved.

"You boys head on up. Alright?"

Both he and Malachi hesitated, and Mr. Black gave them a warm smile, an affectionate pat on his son's cheek, and then a wink and they gave small smiles back to him, before he turned and started to head back downstairs to greet the new arrivals.

"Oh – Harry," Mr. Black called from behind them, just as they'd started to turn, "Come to my office tomorrow morning, would you? Ten o' clock?"

Harry frowned, "Your office?"

Mr. Black nodded; "Yes. Or eleven, if ten isn't convenient."

"No. No, ten's fine."

When Malachi's dad didn't elaborate any further, Harry nodded, the man giving them both another smile before he carried on his way.

Harry and Malachi shared a look – Malachi seeming just as bewildered by the request as Harry – before turning and heading back through the corridors.

Harry feeling like an idiot for ever complaining that he was bored.

* * *

The thunderstorm raged on.

Severus strode up to the entrance doors of Hogwarts Castle – flanked on either side by Amycus and Alecto Carrow, the newly assigned Headmaster and deputies of the school – his chin held high and his steps determined, unwavering, as he flicked his wand and the doors opened to him.

Across the threshold, every remaining Hogwarts professor, along with Irma Prince, Poppy Pomfrey, Madam Hooch and Filch were lined up along the corridor by which Severus would have to pass to reach the Headmaster's office.

Severus' steps slowed, somewhat, in acknowledgement of their greeting and he was careful not to meet the eyes of Remus Lupin – lest the man give them away with questioning eyes that would need to be addressed, privately – and, instead, met the eyes of the first professor in the line.

Minerva.

There was so much revulsion and fury and _loathing_ in her gaze as she glowered back at him, unyieldingly, on his approach that Severus almost flinched.

Almost.

He kept his eyes on hers, unforgivingly, and – as he reached her – Minerva spun on heel. Turning her back.

Severus' steps almost faltered.

He carried on.

The next in the line – Filius Flitwick – did the same.

And then Pomona Sprout.

And then the next.

And the next.

Each and every one of them presenting him with their backs as he passed them in the corridor. A disrespect. A shun.

A joint declaration of their contempt for the man who had killed Albus Dumbledore – Severus Snape – and who now dared to set foot back in the castle, taking his place.

Severus carried on in his steps, steadily, ignoring the way the bile rose within him, the tightness in his chest making it a little harder to breathe, and he met Remus Lupin's eyes – the last of the professors in the line – and, as he'd expected, there was no hatred there.

But Lupin did as the rest of them.

Kept up the show.

And turned his back.

Beyond the line of professors who'd come to greet and judge him, he picked up the pace of his steps, making his way up to Dumbledore's – his own – office.

Went about the process of arranging his new password – Dumbledore – and headed on up the spiral staircase, leaving Alecto and Amycus – and all the other professors who loathed him – behind.

Severus almost stumbled into the room, when he finally got through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

He hesitated over the threshold, drawing in a steadying breath – his hands not quite steady, themselves – as he attempted to collect himself.

More affected than he'd expected he would be, when faced with the scorn and disgust of his colleagues.

"Severus, my boy!"

A wholly unwelcome voice greeted him from the wall.

Severus met the eyes of Dumbledore's portrait, who beamed at him from inside the frame, and he rolled his eyes heading over to take his seat on the _other side_ of the desk, this time, taking no joy, whatsoever, in his new promotion.

"It seems our plan has worked perfectly. Is everything else in place?"

Severus nodded, reaching into his robes and pulling out the minimized wooden box – the one that directly communicated with Regulus – and flicked his wand, returning it to its correct size, and placed it at the top corner of his desk.

An ornament, almost.

"The Foundation is secure. Regulus has rallied support and gotten the word to those so inclined to continue to resist. As expected, I have been assigned to the post of Headmaster of Hogwarts, with Amycus Carrow and Alecto Carrow as Muggle Studies and Defence teachers, respectively –"

"Defence, Severus?"

"Indeed," Severus didn't elaborate further than that, going on, "Classes resume tomorrow. As you may have noticed, there has been a delay in the commencement of the new school term. Many parents opted to withdraw their children immediately, following the fall of the Ministry, and it took several days for the new legislation to pass mandating the compulsory attendance of all wizarding children at the school – so long as they be of proven magical blood. The last of the students have been ordered to return by this evening."

"Ah. Then –"

Before Dumbledore could go on there was a knock at the door – Lupin, it must have been, for he was the only one to know the password to the staircase – and Severus called that he enter, while Dumbledore's portrait quickly resumed a sleeping pose.

Lupin pushed open the door, eyeing Severus almost uneasily from where he stood, not stepping over the threshold.

"Might I have a word…Headmaster?"

Severus leaned back in his chair, inclining his chin, and Lupin walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"I trust you were careful to ensure you were not spotted coming to speak with me."

"Would it have mattered?" Lupin rejoined, eyes on Dumbledore's sleeping portrait as he approached, taking a seat, "You are my _boss_ now, are you not? Although I am a little confused as, going by the current announcements, my subject is now under the jurisdiction of Amycus Carrow."

"We shall come to that shortly," Severus said, without preamble, "Lily has informed you of my true allegiances and the truth behind what happened that night and I am in need of eyes and ears on the grounds of Hogwarts. That little _display_ of you all has made it abundantly clear that my own cannot quite be relied upon, nor is my tenure in the role of Headmaster likely to be respected. That will not do."

"Vo –"

"Do not –"

"Voldemort is aware of my condition as a werewolf, Severus. I don't quite like my chances of remaining employed within the school much longer."

"It just so happens, the very fact that you ran with werewolves last summer has provided me with amble enough material to spin an excuse as to why you ought to remain in post. The last thing the Dark Lord needs, at the present moment, is to alienate an entire faction – particularly the strong support he has managed to acquire from the werewolves – when the Foundation has risen up so strongly against him, and Statute Opposers continue to dwindle in their support. To evict one of the few werewolves who has actually managed to gain employment and built a, somewhat, stable life from their position is not a message he will want to send out and a risk not at all worth taking. Particularly when the Dark Lord cares so little for the wellbeing of the students as it is and the parents are mandated to deliver their children, regardless of whether or not they would be safe here, or spend the rest of their days in Azkaban."

Lupin released a breath, looking sickened by the unwelcome truth, and glanced away.

"And, so, I ask you, are you willing to be my eyes and ears on the grounds of the Castle, so that you and I may do all that _we_ can to protect the remaining students and assist Regulus and the Order in their attempts to frustrate the Dark Lord's progress beyond these walls."

Lupin met his eyes.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't, Severus."

"How absolutely splendid," Severus bit out, before he leaned forward and gathered up some parchments, handing them over.

Lupin took them with a frown, "Potions?"

"The only available vacancy within the school, I'm afraid."

"I'm no Potions Master –"

"Hence these lesson plans I have constructed. You can surely read and follow them, they are elementary level, at best."

Lupin fingered through the parchments, eyeing them, before he met Severus' eyes and gave him a nod.

"The first thing we need to do is ensure that no muggleborns remain within the school. I am aware that some parents thought themselves clever enough to pay crooks and swindlers in order to fabricate their family trees, under the impression that it would be in the best interest of their children that they return to Hogwarts. Soon, they will be either expelled – or worse – once legislation passes through the Ministry and when it does it will be out of my hands to protect them."

Lupin nodded, rolling up the parchments and tucking them into his robes, "I'll do what I can."

Severus inclined his chin – a dismissal – but Lupin lingered a bit. Eyes upon him. For a moment, Severus thought he could see concern – compassion – the same as had been there the year before, when he'd gone to the man's chambers to wipe the memories of his daughter.

But neither said anything.

And, when the silence stretched, Lupin inclined his head in a slight nod.

"Headmaster."

It did not sound mocking. Not in the slightest.

If anything, there was the slightest tinge of respect in Lupin's tone as he spoke it.

Still, Severus hated it.

That was good. Hate he could use.

Lupin got to his feet and headed from the office.

Leaving Severus alone once more.

If only.

Dumbledore's portrait immediately sprung awake.

"You were saying, Severus?"

Severus' eyes lifted to the ceiling, reaching into his robes and pulling out a minimized briefcase, putting it on the desk and wordlessly returning it to its original size.

Unlatching the buckles and getting to work.

* * *

Malachi stood at the doorway of the newly constructed Healing unit early the next morning.

Unable to stop thinking about all the people - the wounded and the suffering - that had been brought in the day before.

His eyes slowly glanced around at all those within in. There weren't many. Only five - he knew there had already been two before the group had been rescued the day before - and three of them were asleep.

Of the other two, one of them was propped up, reading a book, and another was behind a drawn curtain, whimpering, as he was being tended to.

Obviously the one who'd looked really bad the day before.

There was another area up the back that Malachi knew had beds, with the curtains drawn, and he tried not to think too much as to whether or not there was anyone up there.

Bodies.

He'd heard Mad-Eye Moody say one hadn't made it.

There was soft shushing sound, a muttering of voices, before the curtain pulled back a bit from the man who whimpered, and Julia stepped out from behind it, the fabric falling back into place as she headed towards the desk.

She halted in her steps when she spotted him, eyebrows raising.

"Hey."

Malachi gave her a little smile, "Hi."

Julia approached, frowning, "Is everything okay? Your dad, is he –"

"He's fine, don't worry," Malachi shook his head, quickly reassuring her.

Julia looked more curious then, her expression warming, "What about you, Kid? You feeling alright?"

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I don't…I don't need a Healer or anything," Malachi said, "I was just…"

Julia got a look of understanding then, giving him a smile, and motioned he follow her, "Come on in."

Malachi followed her up to the desk, his eyes still glancing around the room, "It's a lot of work for one person."

"Things are pretty quiet just now," Julia said, glancing at him, a smile still playing on her lips as she set about making up some potions phials, "If it does get too busy Harry's mum steps in and helps out."

"She's not helping now?"

"She's back out there, on the field."

"Oh."

Malachi glanced at the curtain, behind which the man continued to whimper, while the man who was awake called over, "Those my meds, Healer Bradbury? Starting to get a bit of a twinge over here."

"Coming right up," Julia called to him, shooting him a smile, while still sorting out the potions Malachi realized were for him.

One of the people in the other beds started to stir.

A house elf popped in, all of a sudden, carrying a tray with bowls piled up, a basket of pastries and a large pitcher of porridge.

"Thank Merlin, I'm starving!" the woman who'd just woken said, noticing the food.

Julia nodded, eyes still upon the potions she was measuring up, "Oh, well, they've anticipated you, Madam Quill."

Malachi quickly leaned down, taking the tray from the House Elf and putting it on the desk.

"Thanks, Kid."

Malachi made to start dishing up, putting down a bowl and lifting the ladle, but was stopped by Julia's hand on his wrist, "Hey. You don't have to –"

Malachi met her eyes, "I can help. Then maybe…maybe you could show me some stuff? Some healing spells. As _payment_ ," his eyes gleamed, while Julia eyed him in amusement, "They'd be useful, right? For out on the field."

Julia raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to him, "And when are _you_ expecting to _ever_ be out on the field, young man?"

Malachi shrugged, lips twitching.

"In here then. I can help you for a while. Dad would like that. Soon you're gonna be massive and need it. Best get me trained up now."

Julia laughed, heartily at that, and she nodded.

"Alright. Knock yourself out, Kid."

Malachi smiled and stepped in closer to the desk, carrying on with dishing up the porridge.

* * *

Harry was up and ready early, eager to see what it was Mr. Black had called him to his office about. He doubted – knew – that it wouldn't be about Snape. That Mr. Black wouldn't risk talking about him with Harry.

So, maybe then, it would be about Sirius.

The thought made Harry quicken his pace, reaching the door to the man's office earlier than planned, but he knew Malachi's dad wouldn't care so went ahead and knocked, before pushing open the door.

"You asked to see me, Mr. Black?" Harry peeked his head around it.

"Harry, yes!" Mr. Black immediately sprung up from behind his desk, shooting him a smile as he did, and – instead of inviting Harry in – came up to him, taking him by the arm, and urged him out and further down the corridor, "Little project for you and I."

"Yeah?"

Harry was immediately intrigued, as he was led on, until they reached the last door – Harry was sure this was one of the main conference rooms, the biggest one – and Mr. Black flicked his wand so that it opened.

Harry found his eyes widening in amazement at what was suddenly before him.

Delighted, even, at where Mr. Black had taken him.

What had previously been a convention room had now been redesigned into a combat training space, Harry realized, as they stepped over the threshold. With training dummies and benches and cushioned mats and the walls – charmed, now, so that it was without windows – were all lined with padding.

"Your Uncle Remus tells me that he'd been training you up," Mr. Black said, shutting the door behind him and crossing his arms, "He hoped you might be able to continue with them, even in his absence."

Harry's eyebrows lifted in surprise, "Oh?"

"Yes," Mr. Black grinned, giving a nod, "And, so – with everyone else tied up – I offered my own services. Granted, I am not exactly a _whizz_ myself, though I am a _bit_ better than you are –" he winked, making Harry smirk, " – And any form of training is better than nothing."

Harry's shoulders shook in his attempts to conceal his amusement, smiling widely.

He nodded, "Yeah. Okay. Thanks. That'd be great."

"Excellent," Mr. Black slapped him on the back, before nodding to the middle of the room, "Show me what you've got."

Harry headed to the spot indicated, while Mr. Black went to stand several feet back, the two of them gripping their wands.

Harry hesitated, though, when he turned and was faced with Mr. Black's expression.

Usually, during training sessions – whether in legillimency with Snape or in defence with Remus – the person he was meant to attack was either serious, taunting or stoic.

None of which were presented to him now.

It felt, well, _wrong_ to lift his wand to Mr. Black.

He wasn't smiling, no. But his bluish grey eyes danced with playfulness and a warmth towards him. An ever-present affection, that had always been there when the man looked at him, ever since his Uncle Sirius had died for them.

Attacking him felt a bit like kicking a kitten or something.

Mr. Black did smile, then, when Harry continued to hesitate, seeming to understand Harry's thoughts and the man chuckled and lowered his wand.

"Harry. I want you to use everything you have learned so far – utilize every bit of knowledge and skill you have acquired – that you would be willing and able to put into practice when faced with a duel. This is _not_ the time to be holding back."

The seriousness of Mr. Black's tone, then, made Harry feel a little bit less reluctant.

"Don't you worry," Mr. Black went on, "I have my own personal healer to take care of me, assuming you do as much damage as you seem to think you're capable of doing to me."

Mr. Black winked, and Harry grinned, then, at the taunt.

Sufficient enough that Harry hoped he would be able to at least zap Malachi's dad a bit.

But Harry _did_ wonder then at what Mr. Black was asking of him. It was a little bit more than what he'd done when he'd been dueling with Remus, after all, if he was supposed to be using _everything_ he'd learned.

Even…

"You mean I can use –"

Harry hesitated, remembering what Snape had told him. That it was illegal for anyone under eighteen to be trained in legillimency.

Even if the law no longer mattered so much anyway, at least to him and Mr. Black. They were all fugitives here, at the Foundation, anyway.

But it was a confidence between them – him and Snape – that Harry didn't really want to break.

"Whatever methods you have at your disposal, Harry," Mr. Black assured him, "Don't worry –" he patted his chest, " – I can take it."

Harry smiled.

Glad to be given leave to use it – legillimency – without having to actually break his word to Snape and reveal their secret.

That Snape had shown Harry how.

And, by the end of those lessons, Harry was actually pretty good at using it.

Besides, it would be better that way, Harry told himself, if Mr. Black didn't know what he was doing.

His opponents in a real battle weren't to know, after all. And most of them didn't know how to use occlumency themselves, anyway.

It'd be exactly how it would be for him on the field. If he ever actually found himself out there, that is.

"Brilliant."

Harry grinned.

This would be easy.

Especially if what Snape had told him in the past were true.

That Regulus Black was _the_ poorest occlumens in the Order.


	85. January 1996: Mission Muggleborn

"… _to report that the reward for the capture of Regulus Black has now increased from fifty thousand to a whopping eighty thousand galleons – that'll be sending a fair few snatchers his way, won't it, Burkley – while the price upon the head of Harry Potter remains at fifty thousand, with ten thousand galleon rewards for the capture of any of their proven family members, respectively, with the exception of that cheeky little chap, Malachi Black, who'll bring you in an extremely respectable thirty thousand galleons for his head and silence. Let's see how loyal those people taking cover behind the Foundation's wall are now with those tempting offers under their noses…"_

Regulus met Lily's eyes across the desk, as the voice from the radio filled the office, and he was tempted to turn it off – the last thing they needed was to start distrusting their charges and crush their own morale – but he didn't.

Let the chatter of reality beyond the walls continue to fill the room, as he carried on in his task to write down the newly – _at last_ – acquired addresses of the families of the muggleborns still trapped within the walls of Hogwarts.

There were only a handful left – those whose families had moved home since the initial invitation to Hogwarts letters had been sent out – but they were enough to have held up the process of the Order dispatches to install their magical defences, so that it had now been almost a week since Severus had provided the names of the muggleborn children in peril and Voldemort was already putting his own plan into motion as to how to retrieve them.

A knock at the door had him lift his head, while Lily quickly cast a disillusionment charm over the information on horcruxes she had been studying in front of her.

"Yes?"

Mad-Eye came in, along with Dedalus Diggle and Emmeline Vance.

"Gotta say, Lily –" Mad-Eye said, as he strode up to where they sat at the desk, " – that nephew of yours – whoosh – he's a big lad."

Lily got a small smile.

"You sure your wife's family are all accounted for, Regulus?" Dedalus asked him, as they reached the desk.

"All abroad and out of harm's way," Regulus said, as he got to his feet, handing over the parchments to Mad-Eye.

"Granger," Mad-Eye read the name on the first parchment, nodding as he took in the address, "These the last of 'em?"

Regulus nodded, "The charms are all in place for the others?"

"Any Death Eaters come knocking on those muggles' doors, we'll be hearing about it," Mad-Eye said, finishing up reading the remaining addresses, before he handed them over to the others to read.

"How many are out there?" Lily asked, looking up at him over her shoulder.

"Five. Two snatcher groups circling the perimeter, too. Managed to create a bit of a disturbance up on the mound by the brook that kept a few of 'em busy. But if that lot are still there when we try to bring in those kids –"

"We'll have the best on this one, we'll get them in," Regulus said, assuredly, before the voice on the radio got the attention of all.

"… _confirm that the finalised list of those who failed to appear for their hearings proving their blood status has been released – first-class ticket to Azkaban for them, mind – and, look here, Burkley, just so happens the Black and Potter names have pride of place on that one too; Julia Black and Lily Potter. Mud for blood –"_

"Why are y' listening to this tosh?" Mad-Eye looked at the radio in disgust.

"It's the most listened to station, we need to have an idea of what's going on out there, what people are hearing."

"What we _really_ need is to get our own message heard," Emmeline said, "Round up support; make sure people know what to do, the purebloods and the half-bloods that are just sitting tight. Not all of those who would oppose him are on the run."

"Very true, Emmeline, very true," Dedalus agreed, "Our own wavelength –"

Regulus shook his head, "We don't have time to sit about in front of a microphone waxing poetic. If we're not coming up with strategy, people need us out there on the ground –"

"Get your boy on it," Mad-Eye said.

Regulus lifted his chin.

Mad-Eyed nodded.

"Malachi Black – former _Max E. MacLean_ – ought to perk up a few ears –" he nodded at Lily, " – yours, too. Harry Potter and Malachi Black. Those boys over the broadcast; that'd soon have people moving in the right direction."

"So, people can spend their afternoons entertaining themselves listening to my fourteen-year-old son goading the most dangerous wizard alive over the airwaves?" Regulus eyed him – he could only just imagine the sort of things Malachi would say – and shook his head, "I'm not having him drawing that sort of fire."

"You're fooling yourself, Regulus, if you think either of those two boys aren't dead kids walking outside of these walls as it is," Mad-Eye said, tucking the parchments he held into his robes.

Regulus met Lily's eyes and she smiled, giving a nod – her own agreement to the suggestion – before he sighed, looking back at Mad-Eye.

"We'll talk to them."

"Good man. And you oughta be putting that lot to work, too, while you're at it."

"That lot – you mean the Foundation staff?"

"Aye. It's like you said, Regulus, we all need to be doing all we can, contributing to the war effort and that lot put the place to shame, sitting around on their arses playing bridge all day and preening their bloody fingernails."

"They're not soldiers, Alastor."

"So make 'em soldiers. Train them up. Or get 'em planting up on that farmstead and harvesting those crops. Have 'em teach the kids that are wandering around looking for ways to escape the walls –"

"They're on that, some of them. Starting this week when the muggleborns arrive, the kids will be taking up workshops, tutorials, anything to keep their spirits up and give a semblance of real-life before all of this."

"We better get on with this list, Alastor," Emmeline said.

Out the corner of his eye, Regulus noticed the little glow of the wooden box on the desk and gave the three of them a nod.

"Just send a patronus if you run into any trouble."

"Don't you be setting foot outside of these walls, Black, eighty thousand galleons is nothing to sniff at," Mad-Eye said, with a nod at the other two, and they made their departure – casting smiles his and Lily's way as they did.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Regulus lifted his wand, touching it to the tip of his finger and drawing blood, pressing it to the wooden box.

He stuck the finger in his mouth, sooking off the blood that remained, and lifted the parchment – the note – that Severus had sent them.

Regulus met Lily's curious eyes once he'd finished reading, giving her a nod.

"Tomorrow night."

* * *

Remus eyed the cauldron before him, the bubbling liquid inside it, that he had been working on for close to three hours now.

His _fourth_ attempt at the brew necessary for the commencement of his lesson the next morning with the sixth years.

He lifted the belladonna, adding it to the cauldron – just as the instructions said – and then made a quarter turn left stir, and two full rotations to the right and – _of course_ – the potion withered and released a puff of putrid gas, before turning a dull shade of brown.

Just as it had done every attempt beforehand.

Remus released an exasperated breath, hanging his head.

"You need to begin the turns at precisely the moment the ingredient is added to the mixture –"

Remus spun around at the voice behind him, finding Severus standing at the door of the potions classroom, arms crossed, with a raised eyebrow.

" – your indecision is costing you the concoction."

Remus looked back at the ruined potion, forlornly – it would take another hour, at least, for him to even get to this point again and utilize the advice – and when he glanced to his side Severus had reached him.

The man's lips twitched in amusement as he eyed the motionless liquid inside the cauldron.

"It has been arranged that the remaining muggleborns are to be transported by Hogwarts Express tomorrow at midnight to King's Cross station. They are to be under the impression that they have merely been expelled due to their inability to prove their magical ancestry during the interviews carried out by myself, earlier this week, and that they are being sent back home, to the muggle world."

"Under the impression?" Remus repeated, warily.

"Death Eaters will be awaiting the arrival of the train at King's Cross, where the convicted students will be escorted to carry out their sentences for their crimes in Azkaban."

Remus released a breath, looking away in disgust.

"Yourself and Minerva are to escort the students, along with Alecto and Amycus Carrow, to Hogsmeade Station tomorrow night –"

Remus met Severus' eyes.

" – at which point, Regulus will have arranged that the Order will intervene and retrieve the students. It goes without saying, I imagine, that under no circumstances are any of your charges to board the train."

"Yes. Of course."

"In the meantime, I need you to gather the names of all the Slytherin students who did not report to school upon the commencement of term."

"The Slytherin students?" Remus looked at him with a frown.

"As their new Head of House –"

"Wait – _what?"_

Severus simply stared back at him.

"Since when am _I_ the Head of Slytherin House, Severus?" Remus said, straightening up, "In case you haven't noticed, I am not exactly the most well-regarded member of the faculty when it comes to the Slytherin students. If I were to be their Head of House then I would –"

"Would what, Lupin?" Severus interrupted him, silky, "You would feel out of place, perhaps? Misunderstood? Your intentions unduly under question and scrutiny?"

It was Remus' turn to stare, now, neither conceding to the statement nor the request. Or, rather, the _order_ of the new Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"It is customary – and has been, for many years – that the Potions Professor and the Slytherin Head of House are one and the same. Enjoy it, Lupin. You may just find that ambitions and brains rub off on you."

Remus rolled his eyes.

Severus lifted up a hand, accioing a jar of goodness-knows-what from goodness-knows-where, and turned the lid, tossing it aside, before he plucked out two small, round objects from inside of it, and tossed them into the cauldron, carelessly.

The liquid suddenly bubbled back to life, returning to its previous vivid, purple colouring, and Severus put the jar onto the bench in front of him, before turning and making his way from the classroom.

"Commence from step fourteen. And have that list of non-returning Slytherin students on my desk by tomorrow, if you please."

* * *

"Omph!"

Harry landed hard on his back on the floor, winded – _defeated –_ staring a bit in a daze up at the ceiling from where he lay.

Mr. Black's face appeared above him, lips twitching; "Alright?"

Harry grinned, grasping the hand that was held out to him, and Mr. Black pulled him up to his feet, giving him a pat on the back when he was upright.

"I don't know if you're trying to be intimidating, in your attempts to stare so deeply into my eyes out there, but let me tell you now, Harry, it is not working –"

Harry met Mr. Black's look, sheepishly, while the man grinned.

" – you need to stay _focused_ on the here and now, anticipating the next move your opponent makes; you're quick – that's one of your strengths – and by trying to engage in the way you are doing now – I'm not sure who taught you to fight like that – is costing you a lot of opportunities to get a hit."

Harry nodded, slowly; knowing his mind was too wrapped up in trying to use legillimency – and Snape – to really engage in the dueling properly.

A method that was proving fruitless, as Mr. Black would neither stay still nor maintain any eye contact, whatsoever, while they engaged one another.

"Remember how you fought in the Battle of Hogwarts; it was reflexive – _instinctive_ – allow _that_ to guide your movements, each step flowing from the one that came before it –"

"I thought you said you were rubbish at dueling," Harry interrupted him.

Mr. Black grinned, eyeing him and nodded; "Believe me, I am."

Harry chuckled – knowing that wasn't entirely true, after he'd seen how he'd fought at Hogwarts – and shrugged; "What does that make me then?"

Mr. Black put a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly; "You are fighting against your own impulses to engage – wrapped up in your own head – in fact, I'd even go so far are to say you are simply thinking too hard. Calm down, anticipate their next move – yes – but, most of all, be in touch with your _own_ instincts – and certainly don't hesitate in the way you've been doing. As soon as you deflect that spell, you fire one back – set up your own counter attack against mine – you only allow just enough time for that spell to be parried before you make your own move."

Harry nodded, closing his eyes, and drew in a breath; "Right. Instinctive. Right."

"Or one of a Gryffindor's great strengths, I've heard of, hm –" Mr. Black said, lips twitching, " – Impulsiveness."

Harry chuckled, glancing at him.

"So, use it. Utilise your own strengths, we all each have our own talents and methods that we bring to the fight. You just have to find yours. But you're good, Harry; don't doubt that."

Mr. Black patted his arm, before tucking his own wand away, "We'll leave it there, alright? Need to get everything all set up before this big sleepover party we're having this evening."

"Oh yeah," Harry nodded, slipping his wand up his sleeve, "Is that…what's going on?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "Must be something big, if my mum's going out so late, right?"

Mr. Black nodded, though he looked a little hesitant himself, now, before he answered.

"It is that. We have an opportunity…" he cleared his throat, nodding; "We have an opportunity. And, so, the rest of us will celebrate that with our own private slumber party."

Harry smiled, though he was a little disappointed, but he knew that, really, Mr. Black wouldn't risk telling him anything.

He surely knew Voldemort could be looking at any moment. Snape would have told him.

"Before you go, I wonder if you might do me a favour," Mr. Black said, as the two of them left the dueling room, making their way down the office corridor.

"Sure. Anything."

Mr. Black smiled, meeting his eyes, before he indicated with his head that Harry follow him into his office. He closed the door behind Harry once he stepped over the threshold, walking up to his desk.

"It's possible that the protections surrounding the Foundation can be enhanced," the man said, as he opened one of the drawers and pulled out a phial, "Not a guarantee – it'll take a bit of work – but, to get a move on it, it requires a little something from each of us so that we might look into it a little more."

Harry frowned, walking up to him, "From us? Like, you and me, us?" Harry was immensely curious, now; "What?"

"Blood," Mr. Black said, bluntly, before he went on; "When my brother – did what he did, he evoked a particular form of protective magic that still surrounds you. What we're hoping to utilize are called 'blood wards' that might be placed around these premises. It they worked, they would prevent any who mean harm from entering, even if the Fidelius should fail."

"Blood wards?"

"They can be evoked when a sacrifice from a bloodline has already been made, so long as they who made the sacrifice still has a close living relative that the beneficiary – that's you – is willing to share a living space with."

"Oh."

"Or, rather, a home. You and I don't, of course –"

"Well. This place could be home – at least for a while –" Harry said, keen to help – that him simply _being_ there might actually protect people sounded perfect, especially when he was sitting safely behind the walls while other people were out there risking their lives – but Mr. Black smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid it has to be intrinsically felt. And – much as we might be able to find the silver lining in all of us being crammed together in this place – both you and I know that this is not home."

Harry's shoulders dropped, disappointedly, but then his eyes found the phial again; "But you think you could fix it? So that, you and me being here together might make the Foundation safer?"

Mr. Black nodded; "Yes. But, to do that, I would need –"

"Yeah, of course," Harry nodded, quickly stepping towards him, tugging up his sleeve.

Mr. Black looked at him for a moment – eyes warm – before he lifted the phial and pulled out his wand, lightly touching it to Harry's wrist and, slowly, the phial filled.

Harry watched it.

Mr. Black capped off the phial once it was done before he accioed something from the bookcase – a chocolate bar, Harry realized – and handed it to him.

"This a prize?"

Mr. Black chuckled, "Best to eat something after getting your blood taken. And your dinner slot isn't for a couple more hours."

Harry nodded, eyes going to the timepiece which read just after three. Mr. Black having assigned both the Blacks and the Potters to the last of the three slots these past few days, Malachi saying his dad thought that sent a good message.

That they – the ones calling the shots – would _starve_ all day, for the longest, after the breakfast packs of porridge, fruit and a pastry had been distributed in the morning.

"Thanks," Harry opened it, only now realizing how hungry he was, and took a bite.

He offered a bit to Mr. Black, who shook his head, declining, before the man turned, placing the phial carefully on his desk next to a wooden box sitting in the corner.

"I did think it might have been about Sirius," Harry said, as he carried on eating – and Mr. Black looked over his shoulder, a question in his eyes.

"When you asked me to come last week," Harry explained, "I thought maybe you wanted to talk about him or something. But, you know, obviously the dueling is even better."

"Oh."

Mr. Black's brow furrowed, slightly, and he looked like he was thinking for a second, before he turned and leaned back against the desk, "Well. What did you want to know?"

Harry shrugged, not really sure. He hadn't thought about it much, just immediately thought – if it wasn't Snape – it must be Sirius, and that was enough to spark his interest.

A little bit of longing, within him, that he might connect with someone who cared about him like Harry did.

"I dunno," Harry smiled, "Anything, I guess."

Mr. Black looked thoughtful, not really meeting Harry's eyes, and when he did the man's expression was a bit more guarded than Harry was used to.

"You knew him better than I did, Harry. Sirius and I were not –" he cleared his throat, " – well, we weren't exactly on the best of terms."

Harry looked back at him, palpable regret in the man's eyes and tone when he spoke, and Harry nodded, slowly.

He'd known that.

The regret was gone in a flash, Mr. Black pushing himself upright and giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

"On that note, I'd better get back to –"

"Oh. Yeah," Harry nodded, before lifting the remaining bar of chocolate; "Thanks. Not just for the chocolate; for dueling too. It really helps."

"Glad to hear it; we'll keep it up."

Harry smiled – glad of the fact – and popped the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, before he made his way from the room.

* * *

"Creevey, Colin."

The fourth year Gryffindor stepped forward, drawing in a little gasp of a breath as he handed over his wand.

Severus took it, snapping it without hesitation, and dropped it into the basket of snapped wands at his feet.

Colin Creevey hoisted up his bag further on his shoulder, lip trembling, and stepped out through the doors, following his younger brother – who waited for him on the step – and the other students who had already handed over their wands and departed, making their way to the thestral-drawn carriages that awaited; the Carrows standing guard over those already seated within them.

Lupin stood on the opposite side of the doorframe, eyes all for the waiting students, while Minerva stood at the back of the short remaining line, glowering at Severus with the full force of her loathing and revulsion.

Severus' voice remained calm, as his eyes went to the next student in line.

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione Granger stepped towards him, hands shaking as she held out her wand, that he took from her and snapped, briskly, before dropping it into the basket.

Minerva's nostrils flared as her hatred towards him burned in her eyes.

The Granger girl's eyes welled up, breath catching and her lip quivering as a tear slipped down her cheek, before she walked by him.

Severus caught the way Lupin's hand squeezed her shoulder as she passed through the doorway out into the night – a sob escaping her the moment she was across the threshold – and Severus addressed the next.

"Maloney, Irena."

Severus repeated the process.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

The last wand was snapped in two and dropped into the basket, as the boy stepped by him – chin held high, proud as ever – and made his way from the school and down the stone steps to the carriages.

Minerva stepped up to him, then, lips shaking, teeth slightly bared and Severus lifted his chin, staring her down.

"Minerva," Lupin's voice said, softly

Minerva pursed her lips together. Composed herself. And knocked Severus' arm lightly with her shoulder as she departed, to perform her assigned duty to escort the students to the train station at Hogsmeade.

Lupin turned, meeting Severus' eyes briefly, before he followed.

Severus waited a moment before he, too, stepped out into the night.

He took a stance at the top of the stone steps, eyes on the carriages filled with all of the newly expelled muggleborn students, many leaning on one another, sobbing, as they were stripped of their wands and their rights to learn and practice magic; grief-stricken by the loss of their rights to their own magical identities.

Young and foolish and innocent enough to believe that this was the worst of it – that they were simply to be sent home, back to the muggle world, cast out of Wizarding Society – entirely unaware that Death Eaters awaited their arrival at Kings Cross Station, ready to transport them to Azkaban, never to see either magic or their families again.

For a crime nothing other than being born.

Severus' hands clenched into fists where they lay against his forearms, crossed beneath the folds of his robes, as the thestrals moved forward, the carriages making their departure with the tearful students.

Severus stood there, watching until the very last light of the carriages could no longer be seen in the distance, before he turned and went back through the doors of the castle.

* * *

"All set?" Mad-Eye said, as he eyed all of those Order members around where Lily stood in the basement area at the door that led down to the tunnels of the Foundation

"Two to intercept the route to Hogsmeade – Lily and Kingsley – with Remus and Minerva already set to be there as part of the drop off, that's four to two. The rest of us are going to try and head off those Death Eaters and snatcher groups that are circling the grounds. Give us half an hour, at least, before you bring them on back – where the hell is Tonks –"

"Right here, change of plan," Tonks said, appearing behind them, "Got a message in from my dad, he's not far from here. Uncle Reg and I are going to –"

"You wha –" Mad-Eye frowned at them, eyes going behind her and Lily turned, seeing Regulus approaching, donning his cloak; "You're mad, Regulus, there's snatchers crawling all over those gates; you'll never get back in."

"There'll be too many of us heading out at once for them to know what hit them," Regulus said, while Lily shot him a look, "This is the fourth time Ted's been driven away and there's a price on his head now; we need to get him in here."

"If you would allow us the time to –" Kingsley's deep voice began, while Regulus shook his head.

"If anything, it's better. The defences going in and out are never going to be stronger than right now, when we're bringing these kids back here," his eyes went to the timepiece, before meeting Lily's eyes, and Mad-Eye nodded, getting the hint that time was being wasted.

"Alright, let's go," the auror pulled open the door and the gathered Order members assigned to the mission – Mad-Eye, Lily, Regulus, Tonks, Kingsley, Emmeline, Dedalus, Bill, Fred and George Weasley – made their way down the few stone steps and into the tunnels, heading through the passage way in single file, not entirely sure where they were going to be stepping out.

Within the space of a few minutes, they found themselves spilling out at the east side of the building, passed the fences but still within the boundaries of the Fidelius as Lily had ensured when evoking the charm, and they each crept from the cover of the tunnels and out into the night, wands clutched tight in their hands.

Regulus nudged her in the side, nodding up at the trees ahead, and – sure enough – Lily could see someone, a few people, lounging about under the cover of the woodland – snatchers, who had opted to camp out and likely weren't expecting any departures at this time of night.

Regulus and Tonks disapparated without a word, off on their own mission, while Mad-Eye spoke lowly to the rest of them; "Lily and Kingsley –" he handed over the piece of parchment with the Foundation's location written upon it, " – of you go. The rest of us; two groups. Bill, you take Emmeline and Dedalus –"

His voice trailed off behind her, as Lily – tucking the address into her robes – and Kingsley made their way deeper into the woods, waiting, until – at Mad-Eye's nod – the two of them disapparated and arrived on the edge of Hogsmeade village.

They made their way in the direction of the pathway to Hogwarts, before eventually taking cover in the trees, lying in wait for the approaching carriages.

They didn't take long.

Three carriages made their way towards them, a professor and four students in two of them, and two professors – Death Eaters – in the final carriage with three students opposite.

Even from this distance, Lily could hear the sniffs and whimpers and sobs of the children who had been cast out of the school – deemed unworthy and untrue – and she swallowed down the lump in her throat, the surge of both offence and outrage at it.

Kingsley nudged her, as the carriages made their way by where they were taking cover. The fact that the two Death Eaters opted to sit side-by-side in the last of the carriages made this a far easier endeavor than any of the other missions Lily had been assigned to since the Foundation had locked itself down.

Severus' suggestion, no doubt.

Lily and Kingsley lifted their wands, pointing it at their backs, and stunned them.

The Carrows slumped forward.

The children sitting opposite them gasped – a moment of bewilderment – before one of them screamed – foolishly – and the children in the other carriages – Remus and Minerva, too – turned, quickly, to look at what had happened.

"Quiet, child," Kingsley said, approaching them, calmly, while Minerva stood – "Oh, Lily!" – in her own carriage and bid the thestrals to stop.

The carriages came to a halt.

"Everyone out," Remus said, jumping down – Minerva too – and the muggleborns did as they were told, looking bewildered passed their tearful eyes, as they all spilled out of the carriages and onto the road.

Lily flicked her wand at the two still Death Eaters, and two thick robes formed and bound tightly around them, while Kingsley accioed their wands and threw them into the woods.

There were murmurs amongst the students as Lily and the Order members present ushered them hurriedly down the road that led back to Hogwarts, looking for somewhere to take cover until it was safe to return to the Foundation.

"Wait here –" Kingsley finally said, when they were satisfied that they'd found somewhere suitable, nodding that the children gather up on the slope of the trees, "Twenty minutes or so and we'll start apparating them back."

Kingsley returned to the carriages, taking up a guarding pose by the restrained Death Eaters, while Minerva went to keep watch, leaving Lily and Remus guarding the eleven muggleborns whom they had come for.

Hermione Granger gave Lily a small smile, from where she was amongst the small group, that Lily returned, warmly, giving her a nod.

And then she glanced at Remus, casting a surreptitious, non-verbal ' _muffliato'_.

"How is it back there?" she asked him, quietly, despite the charm she had cast.

Remus cleared his throat, eyes still scanning the woods for any sign of ambush.

"Well. It's not unusual for strolls in the Forbidden Forest to be suggested by the new Headmaster as punishment for the low-level uprising that is currently bubbling amongst the students. If they're lucky. Often, the newly established disciplinary tactics involve the use of the Cruciatus – a favourite of the two professors back there, in fact – or, in less severe cases –" Remus' eyes narrowed, as he went on; " – the use of blood quills, even."

" _What_? Severus –"

"Does what he can."

Lily hesitated.

A silence that stretched until they met one another's eyes.

"How is he?" she asked, quietly, unable to help herself.

Remus glanced away.

"He's an arse. As always."

Lily's lips twitched – not quite satisfied by the response – and Remus, seeming to recognize that, went on.

"I am not quite sure how much of it is an _act_ but either way, he plays the role well. He is despised amongst all – even his own two lackeys over there can't seem to stand the sight of him – and Minerva, in particular, is struggling to maintain her composure when in his presence."

Lily lowered her eyes.

They were silent a few minutes longer, then – Lily's mind on Severus and Remus on high alert for any sign of attack – before he finally spoke, in the same quiet tone as she had.

"How are the kids?"

Lily smiled, nodding.

"Good. Safe. Grace, in particular, is vastly enjoying the attention and having – almost – everyone who would spoil her at her beck and call."

Remus chuckled.

Another silence, then.

Before he asked, more quietly; "And Dora?"

Lily looked at him, quickly. Before she drew in a breath, giving him a reassuring smile, realizing he must be just as worried for her, as she was for Severus – if not more so, with Tonks out on the field everyday – and nodded.

"She's good, Remus. One of the best."

Remus smiled, the tension in him seeming to relax a bit at her words.

One of the students huddled in the woods tried to get their attention – _"Professor Lupin?" –_ and Remus left Lily's side to speak with and reassure them as to what was happening.

Kingsley approached a little while later, indicating that Minerva come join them.

"Mad-Eye and the others should have the place clear for us bringing them in by now; someone scout it out, first. I'll stay by these two, keep watch, while the three of you take them in – two at a time – it shouldn't take long."

The three of them nodded, doing as he said as Kingsley returned to his spot by the third carriage, Lily disapparating first, alone, back to the Foundation to ensure everything was in place for their safe arrival.

* * *

It was almost one in the morning.

_Far_ later than either Harry or Malachi had ever gotten away with staying out of their respective quarters since they'd been locked down at the Foundation.

But it was easy to slip away, what with Julia opting to take Grace back to the Potter quarters that night and staying there after Mr. Black was called away by Tonks – triggered, no doubt, by the fact Malfoy kept going in and out of the communal room wearing only his underwear; flat out refusing to even acknowledge Julia existed, much less was speaking to him, and swearing outright in front of Grace when Harry and Malachi tried to get him to sort himself out.

Malachi, fizzing with rage at Malfoy's insolence towards his stepmum and absolutely refusing to turn in until his dad got back, was the one who insisted that they do leave before he actually punched his cousin. _Or worse._

So, they'd left and went to the main building.

Surprised and delighted to find that the ballroom was _bustling,_ even at that time of night.

There weren't that many people, no. Maybe fifty or so, but they were rowdy and someone had decided the piano in the corner ought to be put to good use and a lively jig of a tune rang out while people swayed and jived together on the dancefloor.

"Yeah! Yeah, put that in!" Harry said, laughingly, doubling over where he sat cross-legged opposite Malachi up in the corner of the room.

"My dad would gut me if I said that," Malachi said, shoulders shaking with laughter, but still he wrote it down, his eyes glancing in the direction of the doorway – concern in his eyes when they did – before he shook his head, and went on, "Um. We're gonna have to do a run-down of – you know – the deaths that the Ministry are covering up. Mind my dad said that."

"Yeah," Harry said, sobering up a little at the reminder – it wasn't going to be all fun and games, this radio thing his mum had insisted he do – and he went on, "We'll do that before we go on about the success stories, though. So, that's the last thing people hear; that way they'll know there's hope and all that."

"Yeah," Malachi made a note of it on the parchment he was writing down on; "This is mostly for the safe people, right? I mean, the ones on the run aren't going to be sitting about listening to the radio or anything, are they? Maybe we should try and find out from my dad what sort of things they ought to be doing, the purebloods and that, that'd help. Ease up the work the Order has to do a bit."

Harry nodded.

"That mean you're actually gonna do it, then?" Harry asked, leaning back on his hands, as the music from the piano picked up the pace and played a folk song that all around it seemed to know, the singing and dancing kicking up a gear off to the side of them; "You shoulda seen your face when my mum mentioned it. You'd think they'd asked you to get up on a stage and make a speech or something."

"Well. They pretty much did," Malachi pointed out, "Just we don't have to look at them, that's all."

Harry glanced over at the jovial group by the piano – you'd hardly think they were in the middle of a war or something – before meeting Malachi's eyes.

"Yeah. Do you think it's…I dunno. Rude or something? Like, us safe and sound here, telling people on the other sides of the walls to go out and take all these risks when we're…well. Not really taking any risks, ourselves?"

Malachi looked at him, consideringly for a second, before he nodded.

"A bit," he glanced down, shifting where he sat, "Easy for us to say, to stand up to 'em, when we're doing it all behind parchment and radio waves, right?"

Harry glanced around them, carefully, before leaning in closer.

"I want to fight. To join the Order. Ron's brothers have and I'm not bad at fighting. Your dad's really good at teaching, actually, so – _what_?"

Malachi was fighting a smirk.

"Uh – no way is your mum gonna let you go out there, Harry. I don't even know why my dad's bothering, to be honest. She'd put one of those big metal ball and chains around your ankle and stick you in one of the holding cells if that was the only way to stop you."

"Fred and George Weasley joined; they're only seventeen and I'll be sixteen, soon. And I _should_ be out there. Because – well – you know."

"If anything that's more reason for you to stay out of the way. You wouldn't be fighting, you'd be committing suicide. Besides, the only reason you're even sitting here right now –" Malachi puffed up, smirking, " – is because _I_ saved you, at the battle of Hogwarts."

Harry shoved him, the two of them bursting into laughter.

Something out the corner of his eye caught Harry's attention, then, and he looked at the door, going still with astonishment when he noticed _Hermione_ – and his mum – and a group of Hogwarts students Harry recognized slowly coming into the ballroom.

Malachi was on his feet, immediately, "They're back."

Harry quickly got up, following Malachi who was approaching where everyone stood, the new arrivals looking completely bewildered and relieved and more than a little bit shaken up as the two of them reached them.

"Hermione," Harry said, as he reached her, and she threw her arms around his neck, tearfully.

"Harry!"

Harry hugged her, sharing a look with Malachi, but it didn't last long because he quickly headed off – obviously looking for his dad – and Hermione drew back.

"What happened?" Harry asked her, looking her over.

"It was awful, Harry," Hermione told him, "Professor Snape, he – he's been conducting interviews with us all week. The muggleborns. When we weren't able to prove we had a witch or wizard in our family he – " she sniffed, " – he told us that we were unworthy of a magical education and that we had no place in this world," she lowered her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek, "And then he…expelled us all and snapped our wands. The Order intervened while we were on our way to Hogsmeade to be sent home. They brought us here."

Harry stared back at her, horrified.

Appalled.

Even when he _knew_ it was obviously all an act – part of the ruse and role that Snape had to play – and if _Harry_ was disgusted, then surely everyone else who _didn't_ know the truth would be even more so.

Harry swallowed, shaking his head, "That's…you're the best witch I know, Hermione. That's…that's just…"

Hermione gave him a small, wavering smile, and Harry stepped forward, hugging her again; suddenly struck with the reality of what the muggleborns were facing right now.

So, so much worse than the snide comments and sneering looks of times before. Even if he had heard the threats on the radio directed towards his mum and Julia – he'd thought those were enough of a reality check, as to what people, the muggleborns, were actually going through right now – but seeing Hermione here, obviously _saved_ from some terrible fate Voldemort had planned for her and the others he could see around them, took that understanding to a whole new level.

He glanced at the others.

Irena Maloney. Dean Thomas. Colin and Dennis Creevey. Others continued to spill into the ballroom.

Harry drew back from Hermione, giving her a smile, and tugging her over to sit down at the nearest table.

Even if it was so late, sorting everyone out was obviously going to take some time and Harry wasn't going to leave her to sit and wait, alone, to be assigned to her quarters.

"Have you been here this whole time?" she asked him, looking around the room, eyes lingering on the people around the piano.

He nodded, "Yeah. Since the Ministry fell. Ron's here too –"

Hermione's eyes lit up and Harry smiled, nodding.

And then he was suddenly struck with a thought, looking at Hermione, eagerly, "How's Daphne?"

"Daphne?"

"Yeah. I haven't been able to talk to her – not since before Christmas – and…I just wondered if she was alright, is all," Harry said, feeling himself blush.

Even if she was his girlfriend, openly, and surely everyone – even the Death Eaters – knew that, by now.

Hermione shrugged, shaking her head, apologetically.

"I haven't seen her at all, Harry. I guess she's been hiding out in the Common Room a lot or something. Same as me. Muggleborns weren't really leaving the dorms whenever we could help it. There's…they brought Death Eaters in as professors and…they were keen to teach us a lesson."

Harry looked back at her, scowling.

"Did they try to teach _you_ a lesson?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip and then she swallowed and reached down, tugging up the sleeve of her robe.

The word 'mudblood' was carved into the soft flesh of her inner forearm.

Harry stared at it in horror.

"Mrs. Potter," Malachi was suddenly back, coming up to his mum who was a few feet away, reassuring some of the younger students, "Wasn't my dad with you? I can't find him."

Harry saw his mum look at the door with obvious concern, that she quickly smothered and gave Malachi a smile, squeezing his arm, "No, he…he had a different assignment. I'm sure he's – oh – there he is."

His mum looked relieved, smiling and nodding, and Harry looked over at the same time as Malachi just as Mr. Black stepped over the threshold into the room, looking more than a little bit beaten up – obviously having had a run in while he was out there – but still fine.

Not _dreadfully_ hurt or anything.

But he wasn't smiling.

And that, alone, was always a warning sign when it came to Malachi's dad.

Malachi hurried up to him, giving him a hug, that Mr. Black returned – holding his son close – and Harry watched as he met his mum's eyes over Malachi's shoulder, ever-so-slightly shaking his head.

And then Harry noticed Tonks behind him – outside the ballroom door – making her way passed and Harry's eyes followed along the wall until she came back into his line of sight through the window stepping out onto the grounds.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she walked in a daze in the direction of the dormitories.

Harry knew exactly what grief looked like. What loss looked like.

He looked back at Malachi and Mr. Black, catching the man pressing a kiss to Malachi's head, before he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him from the room.

Harry lowered his eyes, fairly certain another of their family had been lost that night, before he glanced over at Hermione.

Noticed the way she watched the group by the piano flicking their wands, casting spells and making jokes amongst themselves, with a look that belied both devastation and longing.

Her own wand taken from her. Stripped of her own abilities to practice magic.

Harry shifted and moved his seat across the floor, closer to hers, and reached for her hand, that she gave him, gratefully, and leaned her head upon his shoulder, as more people came into the room.

* * *

"You are quite correct in your assertions, Alecto," Severus said, silkily, "It is not _I_ to whom you must make your excuses. You will explain to the Dark Lord, himself, your failure this evening at the next available opportunity. I am certain he will do his best to … squeeze you both in."

Severus looked down his nose at the Carrows, who stood, furiously, opposite him in his office; mortified and enraged at having to have been retrieved by him, Severus finding them bound and futilely attempting to free themselves from the enchanted ropes that restrained them in the carriage once the muggleborns had made their safe passage to the Foundation.

Severus inclined his chin and the two of them shared a look, before they spun where they stood and left the room.

Just as the door clicked shut behind them, the wooden box in the corner of Severus' desk glowed.

Severus ignored the gleaming eyes and bright smile of Dumbledore's portrait – obviously pleased by what had occurred – as he passed, returning to his desk.

Severus drew blood from the tip of his finger, placing it upon the top of the box, and it opened for him.

A small roll of parchment laid inside, along with two phials of blood, that Severus lifted from inside as he took a seat.

He put the phials – marked 'H' and 'R' respectively – carefully into his bottom drawer, into the phial rack he had within it, and then unrolled the scrap of parchment, reading the single word upon it.

_Success._

Severus smiled.

He waved his wand, so that the box resealed itself, and – with a glance at the timepiece that showed it was, indeed, very late – reached for the lists that the Head of Houses had reluctantly passed to him earlier that day, of all the half-blood and pureblood students who had failed to report to Hogwarts to continue their education as was now mandated by wizarding law.

The parents of any who refused to send them issued an immediate sentence to be carried out in Azkaban for non-compliance.

The families who would soon be hunted – on the run – for the sake of their children and need to be offered protection by the Order.

Severus had already finished writing up the list of names ready to give to Regulus – and the Dark Lord – from the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses respectively.

The last of them to be added those from Slytherin.

Severus looked at the relatively small list before him – far less, compared to the others; only four names upon it - and wrote down only two from said list.

Malachi Black and Draco Malfoy's non-attendance entirely obvious to both Regulus and the Dark Lord already, after all.

These two, not so much.

Daphne and Astoria Greengrass.


	86. April 1996: Demons on the Doorstep

Harry sat upon his bed in his quarters.

Uninterested in the twelve o'clock Public Relations Workshop that Malachi and Hermione had signed up to; the latter dragging Ron along with them, too.

Harry turned over the green and silver Slytherin scarf he held in his hands – Daphne's scarf – a deep surge of longing and loss coming over him as he looked at it.

He tried desperately to stamp down on that feeling of loss - insisting to himself she was fine – and turned away to peer at the five stones that he'd laid out in front of him on his bedsheets.

These couple of hours to himself were as a good enough time as any to carry on with the transfiguration exercises Mr. Black had told him to work on, when Harry had expressed his admiration towards Professor McGonagall's – _fantastic_ – dueling abilities during one of their earlier training sessions.

Harry pointed his wand with one hand – the other still holding tight to Daphne's scarf – and whispered the incantation Mr. Black had gone over with him a few times.

Three of the stones transfigured – the other two remaining limp – into arrowheads. They were smaller than he'd intended but big enough to be put to use, and he grinned, more than a little proud of his efforts.

But his delight dwindled once more, when his eyes glanced back down at the scarf in his other hand.

Thoughts going back to Daphne.

To his girlfriend who remained out there, somewhere beyond the safety of the Foundation's walls – hunted now, as he and Malachi had eventually learned – and almost entirely untraceable in all the weeks since the Order had started trying to find them.

It was April, now, _months_ since he'd last held her and Harry cursed himself at his stupidity in not saying goodbye to her properly. He should have known better than that. To assume that they had time.

But he'd been too wrapped up in his own head that day – after the Battle of Hogwarts – to give her a proper kiss and a hug and maybe a few cheesy sweet-nothings whispered in her ear, telling her to have a good Christmas.

Harry sighed, leaning back against the wall that his bed was pushed up against.

He willed himself to remember her like that – in his imagination – enjoying Christmas Day with her parents and her newly-returned sister, rather than the reality of her being outside, moving from place to place, keeping hidden, throughout those cold, miserable winter months.

Daphne and her family having spent the time freezing and frightened and hunted while he…

Grace's head unexpectedly peeked around the door to his room, surprising him, as she shot him a bright smile; "Hi Harry!"

Harry frowned, putting the scarf aside, "Hey. Shouldn't you be at the Learning Centre?"

"I sneaked away," Grace said, in a dramatic whisper, touching her finger to her lips to silence him, "Mrs. Gillan is trying to make us pet snakes and spiders as part of our lesson today. Isn't that _yuck_?"

She flung herself backwards onto his bed, eyebrows lowered, and Harry smiled, giving her side a tickle and making her giggle and squirm out of his reach.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking curiously at the items on the bed.

"Homework."

Grace picked up one of the arrowheads, looking at it, consideringly, before she noticed the scarf.

"Is that a Slytherin scarf?"

"Yeah."

"Daphne's?"

"Mhm."

Grace looked at him, carefully, before she said; "You're scared because she's not here."

Harry shook his head, immediately trying to reassure her.

"No. No, I'm not scared, Grace. Daphne's fine, I'm sure. She's just…having a bit of an _adventure_ , is all, before she comes and stays with us here."

Grace looked at him disapprovingly before glancing back at the arrowhead, saying nothing.

"What?" Harry nudged her foot with his,

"You're lying again."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are. You're pretending. Like everyone else. Everyone's pretending to be happy when they're not really," Grace said, putting the arrow down, "Pretending that we don't all miss home. Pretending that we're not really having a war."

Harry frowned, swishing his wand so the arrowheads transfigured back into stones and gathered them up, putting them on the bedside table.

"You're not supposed to do magic until your seventeen, Harry," Grace said, his sister looking even more disapproving than she had done before.

Harry chuckled, "Like you're one to talk, Grace."

"Mummy told me I'm not allowed – _under any circumstances_ – to do anything with magic," Grace said, glumly, brows lowered as she stared at the stones Harry had put on the table.

He half-expected them to morph, his little sister's look was so defiant.

He didn't tell her what Snape had told him; that the Fidelius concealed all magic within the radius anyway.

Harry shimmied in closer to her, pulling on her arm so she sat up to face him.

"What do you know about the war?"

Grace shrugged, "That we're not _really_ safe. But…way safer than the people who are outside. That mummy and Mr. Black and Tonks keep going out every day trying to bring people in and – maybe, one day – one of them might not come back. That's why Tonks' daddy died, you know. Because of the war."

Harry swallowed, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Everyone's afraid. But everyone keeps smiling. Why?"

Harry squeezed her shoulder.

"Because to keep smiling forces us to remember things that make us happy. And remind ourselves that there's hope and reasons to keep fighting. And we need those things – hope and will – so we can win."

"But…what's gonna happen if we don't win? People don't just win things by _wanting_ to, you know. Otherwise Malachi would always be winning our boardgames."

Harry laughed then, for real.

And then he smiled fondly, the question reminding him of one of his own. Long, long ago, when he was about the same age as Grace and so very frightened by all he was hearing at the Learning Centre, too, about Voldemort and the war.

He remembered the air of uncertainty and the fear that came along with all the rumours and half-truths and dotty information that the kids would pick up from overheard conversations between their parents and share with their classmates; the silence and attempts to protect them by keeping them in ignorance only fueling their fears even more.

And, now, his sister was surely going through the same thing.

Harry shook his head, telling Grace the exact same thing he'd been told by his Uncle Sirius when he'd been gripped by it. That fear of the war and the unknown.

"That doesn't matter, Grace; because we _will_ ," he leaned forward, nose close to hers, "And when we win, we'll all get to go home and we're gonna be happy – _for real_ – no more fighting and no more pretending."

Grace eyed him.

"Promise?"

Harry smiled and nodded, "Yeah. I promise."

Grace smiled and he tugged her arm, drawing her in and giving her a hug and a kiss on the top of the head.

A ting – once, twice – rung out from the side of his night table.

Grace perked up, drawing back at the sound; "Is that your radio alarm?"

Harry chuckled; "Yeah. Yeah, almost two o' clock. Time to go."

He got to his feet, reaching for the script he and Malachi had prepared the night before, along with the list of those who had lost their lives within the last forty eight hours that he and Malachi would have to announce before moving on to their messages of – what they hoped was – encouragement and hope and inspiration, so that the people on the outside would continue to resist as much as they could and protect the muggles and muggleborns closest to them.

Harry swallowed, looking into the innocent eyes of his little sister.

Grace accused them all – all those who were safe here – of pretending.

But, actually, sometimes the smiles _were_ real.

Easy.

But, then, surely that was worse; that each night he and Malachi laughed and ate and were merry until early in the morning with all those so inclined who now dwelled within the safety of the walls. There were a huge number, now, compared to how it had been in the beginning, his mum and Malachi's dad, and all the other Order members working hard to save and bring in as many as they could.

Every night was a party. A song and dance and a laugh. Even without any alcohol left – not that he and Malachi were permitted any – the dwellers kept their spirits up with the uplifting camaraderie that came with fellow human contact.

Romances blossomed – with onlookers taking bets on who would fall in love next – and dares were made and games were played and truths were told. All bonded by their current circumstances, even those who would never before have any interest in one another, brought together by shared experiences, shared goals and shared trauma.

Harry pushed aside his guilt that he was totally safe while others – including people he cared deeply for, like Daphne and Remus and Snape – were still out there.

But Snape, at least, was safe. So long as Harry kept his mouth shut.

Harry tried to not think about all who were lost; all the 'casualties of war', as Mad-Eye Moody called them, occurring every single day.

None of those thoughts would help him try to remain upbeat for the broadcast that was about to start in – oh – _five minutes._

Harry carefully tucked Daphne's scarf under his pillow, before he reached for Grace's hand.

"Come on. If you don't wanna stay at the Learning Centre group this afternoon, how'd you like to have a go on the radio with Malachi and me?"

Grace's eyes lit up in delight, " _Really_?"

"Yeah. People could do with hearing a voice like yours, after having Malachi and me drone on for weeks and weeks. Come on. He's probably down there already."

"Brilliant!"

* * *

Severus stared longingly at the moving picture in his hand.

It was a picture that had arrived first thing that morning, placed in with the short sheet of parchment detailing the most recent developments regarding the Order missions; the daily reports Regulus sent through from the Foundation.

Harry and Grace laughed, his little girl unable to keep still and smile directly at the camera, while her older brother tickled and teased her, any time she tried. Severus knew it well enough to recognise the ballroom of the Foundation, the piano being put to use in the back corner, while people laughed and danced in the background.

Severus smiled, alone in the Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts, eyes remaining upon them; heart warmed both at the sight of them and the environment that they currently lived within.

A place of joy and laughter.

"And what do we say to people who might be feeling afraid, Grace?" Harry's voice said over the radio.

Severus glanced to the side, awaiting the answering sound of his daughter's voice – one that had unexpectedly joined his son and his Godson for today's broadcast.

"I say we've gotta keep smiling!" the sweet, innocent voice of his little girl sounded, brightly, Severus' heart constricting once more with each word spoken.; "Because _that's_ how we're gonna win!"

Severus got a small smile, eyes returning to the picture of the two of them.

"You heard the lady," Malachi's voice came next.

"Yeah," Harry said, chuckling; "And we've been hearing a lot of really amazing stories about people – even more than before – who've really been going out of their way to protect their muggle and muggleborn neighbours. We've already explained a few times how we can all help. We…we know it's tough."

There was a little silence. Long enough that Severus wondered if he'd lost the connection.

"Yeah, we do," Malachi's voice came on then, "We're not gonna lie about that. It really is…inspirational what all you guys out there are doing."

"Yeah. Pretty sure we speak on behalf of everyone when we say thank you. Really. Thank you," Harry said, "We're all in this, doing the best we can to make a difference. And, so long as we can stick with it, stay strong and stand together, then we're gonna make it. We'll see the end of this and, when we do, we'll see that it's all been worth it."

Severus bit his lip, eyes lowering at the words.

"Resistance Watch signing off. Till next time, everyone," Malachi said, finishing up; "Keep each other safe; keep faith."

"Bye!" Grace's voice called and Severus heard laughter from Harry and Malachi before the radio went static.

Severus remained entirely still in his chair – ignoring the eyes of Dumbledore's portrait that he knew were upon him – bereft, as he always felt, at the end of each broadcast.

More so, this day, with Grace's voice joining the boys.

Severus allowed himself to feel it.

He'd learned that it was better that way. To feel the grief, just for a minute, after each message that Harry and Malachi sent out from within the walls of the Foundation.

A momentary high, hearing their voices, that quickly vanished with the sound of the radio static left behind.

But rather than push it down, aside, and pretend he was unaffected, feeling the grief allowed him to let it go for a little longer.

To push on.

It _would_ all be worth it.

Severus never looked at Dumbledore when he dared to think it. Thoughts of the horcrux coming much to quickly on the heels that. The horcrux scorning and laughing at the idea, that they would ever see the end of this.

A minute passed and the time to feel grief along with it.

Severus touched the tip of his wand to the picture in his hand, igniting the corner; watched as it burned.

He dropped it onto his desk only at the very last second – just as the flames began licking his fingertips.

His eyes remained on the faces of his children.

Before the picture become nothing but ash before him.

* * *

"What about that interview we did – you remember – Bruno Truewinkle; he's the first person who indicated that Voldemort might have been able to make a living being a horcrux, rather than just the objects you were hunting," Lily said, having been waiting for him in his office, as Regulus shrugged out of his cloak, just back from his time out on the field with Bill Weasley and Sturgis Podmore.

"I remember," Regulus hung it up on the rack by the door, before he indicated with a nod in the direction of the cupboard - wordlessly lifting the wards upon it - as he approached his desk; "Everything I've got on horcruxes is in there, in the boxes. Just take anything you need."

He touched his wand to the tip of his finger, drawing blood and pressing it to the top of the wooden box that had glowed, immediately, upon his arrival.

He pulled out the parchment inside, as Lily headed to the cupboard, skimming the new information Severus had sought to provide them with, quickly; the muggle communities, the legislation and the Wizarding families that they could expect Voldemort to target next, in order of likely prioritization.

The door opened without a knock and Mad-Eye came into the room, followed by Dora, rolls of parchment clutched in his hands.

"How'd it go?" Regulus turned to face them.

"Better than we expected it would," Dora said, with a small smile, her hair no longer the vivid pink that he was used to – now a darker shade of purple, though that was definitely a reassuring sight, compared to the mousy brown it had turned for the two weeks following Ted's death – and she nodded at his desk; "Got more for us?"

"Yes. Too many more –" Regulus handed the parchment over to Mad-Eye to look at, " – We've barely managed to scrape the surface of the last mission, and with Voldemort ordering the mass slaughtering of house-elves, we can't be sending them out there to gather in the food and supplies anymore. We're going to have to do runs for them ourselves but, even then – even with multiplication spells of the stores we've currently got – with the numbers of people we've got in here, it's only a matter of months – if we're lucky – before we're going to start running short."

"Cut down on the potion sizes –"

"It's just two meals a day as it is, Alastor," Regulus shook his head, "People are going to bed hungry every night and we've got kids in here."

"We'll expand the farmstead. Your Foundation staff have been working it?"

"Yes; they're harvesting and multiplying as much as they can of it; but there's only so many duplications they can make before they stop resembling what they've come from in any sort of nutritional value."

"They'll do. Fresh stuff for the kids. The rest of it for us."

"With us running out of food, it's only a matter of time before people start getting restless," Lily piped up, from where she was still standing at the now-open cupboard; "Most of them have been locked up in here for over twelve weeks, now, while we've been moving in and out, going stir crazy."

"Well, they're welcome to get up off their arses and join us, if they're so inclined," Mad-Eye said, while Tonks fought a smile.

"Boredom, hunger and purposelessness is a breeding ground for violence, Alastor," Lily said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You know what else is an incentive for that, hm?"

Mad-Eye handed over the rolls of parchment he'd been carrying, Regulus unrolling them to take a look once he did.

Three reward posters for Voldemort's top-listed Undesirables.

Regulus Black. Harry Potter. Malachi Black.

"No more distinction between the three of you now, what with the radio broadcast being such a hit," Mad-Eye said, as if that were something to rejoice about, "A hundred thousand galleons for each of the three of you."

Regulus rolled them back up, tossing them onto his desk.

"Probably time you got Security Personnel shadowing the three of you while you're in here, Uncle Reg," Dora suggested, with a look of obvious concern, and went on, holding up a hand before Regulus said anything; "Obviously it's not gonna look good – and, sure, people might get offended – but a hundred thousand galleons. Someone's bound to think twice about that."

Regulus considered it before he nodded, meeting Lily's eyes.

"The boys already have assigned guards on them; mostly they keep their distance, but I'll have them take up a more visible post. Should be enough to deter any thoughts about it," he shot Lily a grin, "Better prepare yourself for some protests."

Lily chuckled, nodding.

"Kingsley back in yet?" Dora asked.

Regulus shook his head, "The last I heard he was held up with what happened to the muggles that were killed down near the Forest of Dean."

"Got a message in from him on our way back here," Mad-Eye said, "He got a lead on one of the families we've been trying to get a trail on; old buddy of yours, Elijah Greengrass."

Regulus frowned, "Oh. Did he –" he and Lily shared a look, " – has he found them? Are they alright?"

"His girls, far as I know, yeah –"

Lily's shoulders dropped slightly in obvious relief.

" – The man himself, not so much. Managed to hold off a couple of Death Eaters for a good few minutes before he fell, mind; not bad for a man who called himself a pacifist. Kingsley's bringing in his wife and daughters, now. Must've been held up on the way."

Regulus drew in a breath, glancing away, at the odd, unexpected little surge of regret felt.

"I'll get a house-elf to sort out new quarters for them."

"And add 'em to the dinner list."

Regulus nodded, before he shared a look with Lily, the relief in her eyes still there; that soon, the Greengrass girls – the eldest of whom their boys were so fond – would be here with them.

* * *

"Now, _you_ are a _very_ handsome young man," the old lady Malachi was tending to said, making him blush and stutter a bit in the spell Julia had taught him – the one that stitched up magical lacerations – and the lady chuckled, leaning back against the pillows behind her; "You must be Regulus Black's boy."

Malachi nodded, "Yeah. That's me."

"The spitting image of your uncle, you are. Oh, my grandchildren have been listening to your show every afternoon while we've been underground. One of the few things they had to break up the monotony of the day."

"Are your grandchildren here?"

"Yes. Thanks to the wards set up by the resistance fighters, we had just enough warning to get them down to the basement to take cover, before the Death Eaters broke in."

"That's good. I mean, not that you were hurt, of course."

Malachi finished up healing the wound on her arm, handing over a damp flannel that she took with a grateful smile.

"I can order some soup for you, if you'd like."

"That would be lovely, Master Black."

"Just Malachi, Ma'am."

"And you may call _me_ Madam McGowan."

He grinned and summoned a house-elf, to ask for the soup. The house-elf looked a bit hesitant at the request but, unable to say no, disappeared again with a pop before Malachi asked, tentatively.

"How is it out there?"

The old lady looked at him, carefully for a moment – long enough that Malachi knew she was considering whether or not to lie – before she said; "Let's just say that I am more than happy that my family and I have finally found ourselves behind the walls of your father's _illustrious_ Aurelius Foundation."

Malachi nodded.

It was as close to telling him how dire it was as he was going to get.

The house-elf popped back up at his side, and Malachi quickly retrieved the tray – a much smaller bowl of soup, now, than it had been in the beginning, and two cuts from a baguette, rather than a full one – and he made sure Madam McGowan was comfortable and happy with the offering, before he made his way over to the preparation table where Julia was now measuring up potions.

"Alright, Kid?"

"Yeah, she's good. How about –"

He looked in the direction of the man Julia had been taking care of earlier, and she nodded, a warm enough smile that Malachi knew the outlook was good for him.

Malachi reached over for some of the smaller empty phials, carefully lifting the larger one with the blood replenishment potion and helping to measure them up.

He became lost in his own head for a little while – tried not to think about the fact his dad was out there again, today – instead thinking about the people who continued to suffer beyond the safety of the Foundation – Voldemort focusing all the attention not being directed to stamp down on the resistance to stamp down on the muggleborns and muggles – and he swallowed, a feeling of unease rising up within him, as he remembered the increased number of deaths he and Harry had had to report during their broadcast earlier that day.

He hoped that Harry was right.

That, maybe, at Easter – when Hogwarts broke for the holidays – Severus _would_ be able to get close enough and finally put end to this once and for all.

Malachi was drawn from his thoughts, his eyes catching the movement of Julia's hand going to the very prominent bump of her stomach, almost unconsciously, while a little smile played on her lips as she continued to work.

"Is that the baby?" Malachi asked, immediately curious, while Julia met his eyes, "Is…can you feel 'em?"

Julia smiled and nodded, patting her stomach lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, nothing gets 'em going better than me standing still or sleeping. Fancy that, huh?"

Malachi chuckled.

"Do you want to feel the kicks?"

Malachi looked at her, surprisedly at first, and then shyly; "Yeah?"

Julia nodded, smiling; "Yeah. Here – " she reached for his hand and placed it where she'd been touching up at the side of the bump, and Malachi waited, eagerly, eyes upon where his hand lay.

"Feel it?"

Malachi frowned, shaking his head, hand lightly upon her stomach.

Julia chuckled; "Didn't think so. Here –"

She pushed his hand in more firmly against her – way harder than he would have dared, wondering if it might actually _hurt_ the baby or something, pressing as hard as that – but, those fears vanished immediately when he felt something like a tiny little punch against his hand.

Once. Twice.

Malachi's eyes widened. A slow smile coming to him in his amazement at what he had felt – his first touch of life from his baby brother or sister – as he met Julia's eyes.

She chuckled, smiling back at him affectionately, and ruffled his hair.

Malachi felt a rush of excitement and happiness come along on the heels of his amazement but, before he could say anything that might suitably express it – if there was anything that even _could_ – the double doors to the Healing Unit burst open and Kingsley Shacklebolt hurried into the room.

"Healer Bradbury!"

Julia had hurried over before her name was fully spoken, Malachi on her heels as Mr. Shacklebolt laid the unconscious woman he held down onto the nearest bed.

"Hey, Kid, can you get me some more of those flannels?" Julia said, briskly pulling along the curtains that surrounded it with a flick of her wand.

It was swiftly pulled back aside just as Malachi made to go back through it, stopped by the person who pushed on in.

"Please, is my mum going to be okay?"

Malachi stared.

"Daphne?"

Daphne met his eyes, just looking at him in shock for a moment, as if she had no idea that she would possibly come across him here. And then she flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

"Mac."

Malachi held her, relief washing over him, that she was finally here.

* * *

Harry hurried down the steps, his heart beating fast – not just due to the fact he was running – as he hastily made his way down to the Healing Unit.

He burst in through the double doors, gracelessly, eyes seeking his girlfriend, and he immediately saw her sitting on one of the chairs next to a bed with a sleeping woman upon it. Astoria Greengrass was lying down awake next to her – their mother Harry realized – and Malachi was sitting in the chair beside Daphne, they two of them talking quietly.

Daphne's eyes met his – brightening when they noticed him – and she got to her feet.

A surge of relief and happiness and something else rose up within him and Harry hurried towards her, closing the last bit of distance between them, and hugged her tight, burying his face into her neck.

"Daphne," his voice was barely even a murmur.

He had no idea what to say, words completely failing him – despite thinking of her every day ever since they'd been parted – and he closed his eyes, just losing himself in the feel of her and how perfectly she fit in his arms, and the familiar scent upon the scarf that he sometimes – embarrassingly – slept with next to his pillow now surrounding him, once more.

"Harry," he heard her voice waver a bit against his shoulder and he drew back, touching their foreheads to one another, keen to look into her deep blue eyes.

"It's okay," he whispered, "You're safe now."

Daphne bit her lip, eyes lowering, and Harry realized something was wrong.

But she never said anything, just leaned back in, silently asking him to hold her.

So, he did.

Drawing her close as he felt her silent tears start to fall.

* * *

Screams of agony – unable to be suppressed – echoed throughout the small room, as Lucius writhed at Severus' feet.

Severus maintained the curse – the Cruciatus – even as Lucius' screams intensified to the point that, at any moment, Severus was certain he would go suddenly silent – pass out from the excruciation of the unforgivable while all those around watched – but, just at the point when Severus was sure Lucius had reached his limits, the Dark Lord lifted his chin and Severus stopped.

Lucius remained on the floor, shuddering while his limbs twitched, uncontrollably.

The Dark Lord gave Severus a nod, seeming pleased by his performance, and indicated that he return to the seat at his side.

Severus did.

"Welcome home, Lucius," the Dark Lord said, from where he sat at the head of the table – every Death Eater and significant werewolf follower sitting in the chairs around it – and he waited, as Lucius unsteadily got to his feet, leaning heavily on the back of the chair in front of him "It is a great pity that your son and heir ought to have proven to be such a _disappointment_. And a further great pity, indeed, that your wife saw fit to bear you only one; for it is always good to have a spare, particularly when a _Black_ is involved, wouldn't you say, Bella?"

Bellatrix looked suitably cowed by the implication.

Lucius nodded, speaking hoarsely, following his screams, "Yes, my Lord."

The Dark Lord indicated he sit with a careless wave of his hand – as if anywhere would do, so long as it was at the back end of the table, where those of the least significance were placed – before he turned to Yaxley on his left.

"So?"

"My Lord, I have it on good authority that the Secret Keeper to Regulus Black's Foundation is the auror, Alastor – better known as Mad-Eye – Moody."

Severus remained still as stone as the words were spoken.

"There have been two eyewitness accounts stating that it was by him – spoken – that two groups have managed to be smuggled safely into the boundaries; most recently, that of Veronica Greengrass and her daughters."

The Dark Lord kept his eyes upon Yaxley for a moment.

Before a slow smirk spread; "Very good. Then it is to be the top priority of all of you to see to it that this _Mad-Eye_ is eliminated, with appropriate haste."

His eyes slowly moved from one follower to the next – eyes upon each and every one – until he gave a final nod of dismissal and got to his feet, sweeping from the room.

No one moved for a good few moments following his departure.

A fact which did well to hide the fact that Severus, himself, was completely frozen still as he attempted to comprehend just how – while he was to remain at the Dark Lord's side for the duration of Easter – he was supposed to get word to Regulus that the Foundation's defences were now significantly compromised.

Slowly, the Death Eaters stood from their seats and began to make their departures from the room – but, by no means, the premises – until, eventually, the only two people left were Severus and Lucius.

Severus got to his feet while Lucius – who had only just been recovered from Azkaban the night before, the last of which to be released – slowly stood, eyes entirely upon him as Severus approached.

"Severus."

Severus inclined his chin, giving his old friend the due respect – and apologetic glance – deserved, considering he had just almost tortured the man to death.

"Lucius."

"I must say it is almost _fascinating_ , to see you quite so at home by the Dark Lord's side."

Severus gave the slightest of nods, conceding the fact.

"Indeed. A half-blood, such as myself, I presume you are implying?"

Lucius eyed him.

And then he dropped all pretenses and stepped in closer, voice low – a definite hint of a threat in his words when he spoke; "Do reassure me, Severus. Do you have faith that Regulus and your _Order_ –"

Severus tensed.

" – are fully capable of protecting my son?"

Severus said nothing.

And then Lucius' eyes met his, darkly.

Severus ground his teeth.

"Yes."

Lucius' lips twitched, a self-satisfied look in his eyes, before he raised an eyebrow, "See to it that they do."

Lucius stepped away from him, making his way towards the door, not turning around as he added.

"After all, I am not the only father with a child whom the Dark Lord would be most interested in getting their hands upon –"

He met Severus' eyes as he reached the door.

"Isn't that right, Severus?"

Severus simply stared back at him. But his fists clenched beneath the folds of his robes, at the direct threat made towards Grace.

Lucius smirked.

"I am glad we're in agreement."

Lucius turned, swiftly, and stepped out from the room.

* * *

The ballroom – like every night – was filled with the jiving tunes of the piano and the accompanying sounds of singing and laughter, while people spun one another around the dancefloor.

But there was a tension in the air, now, that hadn't been there before.

Draco had known all along that the whole thing was too good to be true – this Resistance idea at the Foundation – and, still, each morning he woke with the sinking feeling of dread that, soon, his mother's warnings to him would prove right and by following Regulus Black's promises he'd soon find him either dead – preferable – or back within in the grasp of the Dark Lord and his father, a traitor.

Regulus appeared then, walking into the ballroom, quickly taking notice of his wife up ahead, sitting at one of the tables with Potter's mother and little sister.

The mudblood with the smile, as Draco called her.

Only in his mind, of course, for he knew better than to demonstrate any _blatant_ disrespect towards his cousin's wife now; the morning following the night he'd driven her and Potter's annoying little sister from their quarters the first time he'd ever seen a glint of something other than warmth and kindness in his cousin's eyes.

" _You are welcome here, Draco," he had said, sitting on the edge of Draco's bed while Draco, himself, had been turned away, pretending not to hear him, "We're your family. But, so long as you choose to be here, you will treat us with the due respect that deserves. And you_ will _respect my wife."_

Draco watched as Regulus approached where she sat from behind – unseen – getting a wide grin as he reached her, before he grasped the back of the chair and dipped it; giving her a smacker of a kiss right there in the middle of the ballroom to the laughter of those around them.

Draco fought a smirk, glancing away, the gesture both completely foreign and almost obscene; that a married couple would be so openly affectionate with one another.

His own parents had only ever kissed one another chastely on the cheek in his presence – and only on special occasions – and, mostly, the only sign of affection he was privy to, was his mother's hand placed gracefully upon his father's arm as they entered the room of functions.

There was certainly none of _this_.

Draco found himself staring as Regulus knelt down at her side – saying something that made Potter's sister smile and giggle – before the four of them began speak animatedly amongst one another, Draco too wrapped up in his own thoughts to look away in time to avoid meeting Regulus' eyes when he glanced his way.

Regulus smiled, raising a hand at him, and Draco reluctantly nodded in greeting before turning away, pretending to be engrossed in reading one of Malachi's ridiculous articles about Statute Abolishment that he had on his lap.

A couple of minutes later, Draco wasn't surprised to feel the cushion of the couch dip beside him; Regulus taking a seat.

Draco reluctantly met his eyes.

"Converted?" Regulus asked, with a little grin, nodding at the parchment Draco held.

Draco shook his head.

"No."

Regulus chuckled; "Didn't think so."

Regulus leaned back a little on the couch, his eyes drifting in the direction of the still portrait of his mum opposite – one of her cuddled in with Regulus and her sister – that was mounted on the wall and Draco hoped his cousin wouldn't mention it.

The fact that Draco spent almost all of his time since coming to the Foundation either sat here in the ballroom or upon one of the couches in the entrance lobby – where her other portrait was mounted – under the warm eyes and smiling face of his mum pretending to read Malachi's articles.

"You know, your mum –"

Draco glanced at him.

"She was always the more _diplomatic_ of the five of us; your aunts and cousins."

Draco nodded.

"Yeah. She – um – she called it being a Slytherin."

Regulus grinned.

"Mhm. She was definitely that. But _,_ more than that, she was very devoted to all of us. Even when we didn't always _agree_ , your mum always looked past all of that – politics. There was nothing more important to her than you and her family."

Draco glanced down, pursing his lips together, fight back against the surge of longing he felt. Against any comfort Regulus was trying to offer.

Resentment building up, quickly, instead.

"Yeah. Well. Look where that got her."

There was no comeback, neither warmth nor anger nor any attempt at levity.

Instead, when Draco glanced back at the man where he sat beside him, Regulus' gaze was on the floor.

"True enough," Regulus said after a moment, clearing his throat, before he got to his feet, "Let me know when you want to leave, alright? I'd rather you not head back over to the Tonks Facility alone."

Draco just nodded – they'd already had this discussion – not looking up, and he heard his cousin's footsteps fade away.

"Hi Draco!"

A voice sounded behind him – bright and sweet and _annoying –_ and he glanced over his shoulder just as Grace Potter – a frequent visitor to the quarters he shared with the Blacks – leaned over the back of the couch, shooting him a wide smile.

"Potter."

"Look!"

She leaned her elbow on the back of the couch, presenting the inside of her forearm to him, which was covered in colorful drawings.

"What is that?"

"It's a tattoo, silly. Like yours."

Draco eyed it, the rainbow and the poor attempt at unicorns and flowers around it, before he glanced at her, "Doesn't look much like mine, does it?"

The girl shrugged, looking at it proudly.

"What does it mean?"

She frowned, looking at him, "What do you mean?"

"Tattoos ought to have meaning. Otherwise what's the point?"

She looked thoughtful, brow furrowing, which looked eerily familiar to him.

"Well. What does _yours_ mean?"

"Means I hate muggleborns."

The girl looked at him fully, then, entirely unimpressed as she raised an eyebrow.

Draco stared back at her. A strange feeling of déjà vu coming over him.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I hate the people out there more."

The girl smiled, then, no longer looking so familiar.

"You shouldn't hate people. It hurts you more than it hurts them. My Uncle Remus says so."

There was a tap on Draco's other shoulder then and, just as he turned, the person who'd done so sat down on the couch beside him.

Draco was stunned speechless for a second.

" _Daphne_?"

Daphne giggled – " _hey_ " – and hugged him.

Draco heard Potter's voice behind him - " _Hey, Grace, come on_ " – before he relaxed and returned her embrace, hearing the little pest leave.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Daphne said, as she drew back, eyes quickly skimming over him, "Harry told me you were here –"

"Where've you been?"

She shrugged; "Around. No one place, really – oh," she smiled and indicated at someone over Draco's shoulder.

Daphne's sister appeared then, looking a little hesitant but taking a seat, when Daphne shifted up a bit closer to him; "You know Tori, right?"

Draco nodded, "Hey."

Astoria smiled, shyly at him.

"Hi."

"When did you two get here?"

"Last week," Daphne said, before sharing a look with her sister, "Spent most of the time down in the Healing Unit but – we've just been moved up and into one of the rooms in the quarters now. Us and mum."

Draco frowned.

"What about your dad?"

Daphne lips twitched a little, kind of in a sad little smile, before she lowered her eyes and – with a quick glance at her sister, who looked both skittish and upset, which was unsurprising considering all she'd been through – Draco realized what had happened.

"Oh."

* * *

"Hey Beansprout!" his dad beamed at him, as Malachi stepped into the ballroom, way later than he'd said he'd be there; past ten o' clock, now.

"Hey, Dad," Malachi gave him a smile, bracing himself for a lecture on being _considerate_ of the fact his dad was a complete worrywart, but that didn't come.

"Been looking for you. You been down the Healing Unit?"

"Uh, yeah," Malachi shrugged, a little shyly, "That, um, Madam Douglas, she forgot to pick up her reading glasses – guess getting chased out the house by Death Eaters makes you forget stuff like that – and she asked if I could read this thing to her before she went to bed for the night."

His dad said nothing. Just looked at him with that proud smile that made Malachi blush and duck his head.

"Don't."

" _Don't?_ "

"Don't get all _mushy_ and start going on about how proud you are again," Malachi clarified, before glancing around at the people surrounding them, "Bad enough when it's just us and Julia. And Draco."

His dad laughed, ruffling his hair, and pulled him into a headlock as he dragged him further into the ballroom.

"Oh, I can't help it, Son, you just bring it all out in me," his dad said, as Malachi fought free with a scoff and a smile, "And I know Julia really appreciates it – as do I – the way you've been helping her down there."

Malachi shrugged, "No big deal. It's cool. Learning healing stuff. Probably come in useful once we get out of here. You know, the next time we go skydiving, least you'll know I'm trained up even if the parachute doesn't open up."

"Ha. Fat chance, Son."

Malachi snickered, the terror on his dad's face as they'd fallen through the clouds with the muggles last summer probably the most hilarious memory of his whole life.

"Want a drink?"

"Can I have a firewhiskey?" Malachi tried his luck.

His dad grinned, leaning closer; "We're out."

Malachi shot him a look; "Figures that'd be the first we'd run out of."

"Cheeky little sod," his dad gave Shaw a smile, "Two pumpkin juices, Shaw."

"Coming right up, Boss."

" _Pumpkin juice?_ "

"Would you prefer a milkshake?"

Malachi grinned, glancing across the dancefloor and, when he did, he could see Draco talking to Daphne and Astoria – the most animated his cousin had looked since they'd been at Hogwarts, probably well before the summer at that – and, a few feet across from them, Harry, who was obviously bickering with his mum, brows lowered and with that look of annoyance on his face he always got whenever he didn't get his own way.

"Here you go!" Shaw reappeared, handing over the glasses.

There was rowdy laughter at the table a few feet away, as one of the women – Cornelia Heart, Malachi recognised – jumped up from her seat and approached to order a drink as well.

"Whatever red we've got left, Shaw."

"Just white, I'm afraid, Cornelia."

"Well, that will just have to do," she widened her eyes, smiling, and Shaw went off to fetch it for it.

"Can always count on the Research Centre staff to keep a party going, Cornelia," his dad said, while she smiled their way.

"That you can."

"Looking a bit sparse tonight, though."

"Mortimer's feeling a little bit under the weather," Heart lifted her shoulder, with a look of exaggerated sympathy, "And Chesney is…well. He's had better days."

At his dad's question look, Cornelia went on, with a careful glance Malachi's way.

"He had family down that way – Ryedale – and –"

"Ah," his dad nodded, stopping her there, before he cleared his throat.

"Here you go, Cornelia," Shaw reappeared, handing over the drink – that no longer had to be paid for – and she gave his dad a smile, before returning to join her table.

"It's really bad out there, isn't it?" Malachi said, immediately.

His dad looked at him, neither conceding nor denying it.

"I mean…some of the people who come in. They tell me stuff. About how bad it is and how grateful they are to be brought here."

His dad nodded, before he reached up and squeezed his shoulder; "And _that_ is why we ought to make the most of it – the safety and security we do have here – for even that is not something to be taken for granted in these times."

Malachi smiled, nodding.

"Where's Julia?"

"Loo," his dad lifted his eyebrows, briefly, making Malachi chuckle – for it was becoming a bit of an inside joke, now, how often she had to duck out from conversations with the three of them – and then, before anything further could be said, a scuffle broke out up by the piano.

Vaguely, Malachi could hear them arguing about someone stealing someone else's snack token – a new system the Foundation was trying out – and his dad put down his glass, casting a quick glance Malachi's way; "Come get me when you want to leave, alright?"

Malachi nodded, before his dad hurried over to help deal with the escalating fight.

* * *

"I'm almost sixteen, Mum. That's the age muggles are when they get to fight in their armies," Harry said – impatiently, for this wasn't the first time they'd have this argument – before he went on, "Fred and George are seventeen, and –"

"Harry," his mum interrupted him, holding up a hand, "The answer is still no.

"Mum, I've been practicing at this for years now and I'm getting good – just ask Mr. Black," Harry said, insistently, "And it's not right that I'm sitting about here doing nothing, while you lot are all out there fighting."

His mum sighed, turning to face him where they stood at the bar.

"You are not doing nothing, Sweetheart. You're going to workshops and _learning_ and you're spending time with your friends – with the other _fifteen_ -year old's like yourself – and you're doing exactly what it is that you should be doing."

"Well, I'm not just any fifteen-year-old, am I?" Harry said, with a quick glance around them, "I'm the one he actually wants. The one that some prophecy says is supposed to be the one that kills him."

"Exactly," his mum said, tone clipped, "Which is precisely why you will not be setting one foot outside of this building. Have you even considered what would happen if you were to go out there with us? Every single one of them would target you, you wouldn't stand a chance."

"It's not right, me just sitting about in the Foundation, telling other people to go and fight when I'm not doing it with them. It's just – it makes me look like a coward, Mum, like I'm hiding behind everyone else –"

"Harry," his mum sighed, putting her hands on his arms, " _No one_ thinks that. What you and Malachi are doing, on that radio, is giving people hope; you're giving a _voice_ to everything that we're trying to do here. And that is not nothing, Harry. That matters. You're _inspiring_ people."

Harry sighed, glancing away, defeated and knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere on this.

He noticed Daphne approaching – leaving her sister behind with Draco – and he smiled, then, before giving his mum a look that he hoped conveyed his annoyance at her refusal before he headed over to meet his girlfriend half-way.

"You alright?" Daphne asked, quickly picking up on his mood.

Harry nodded, taking her hands, "Yeah. Yeah," and then he grinned and shrugged; "Better for seeing you."

Daphne smiled, lowering her eyes, and Harry tugged her over to the corner of the room.

They hung about there for the rest of the night – while Ron, Hermione and Malachi sat at a table a few feet away, chatting amongst themselves – Harry keen to just lose himself in her, now that he finally had her back with him.

They stood alone, huddled close to one another, muttering silly things to one another and giggling at the dance moves of those out on the floor, while Harry gently coaxed her to open up to him about what had happened to her while she'd been out there.

Harry reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear, and she smiled, affectionately at the gesture,

"Where did you stay?" he asked, when she deliberately avoided answering any of hints that she could talk to him about how she felt about losing her father.

"Um. Abandoned muggle houses, mostly. My…father knew the Death Eaters would be coming for us so…he tried to get us here, at first. But the place was surrounded – snatchers everywhere – so, we got turned around and ended up going south, mostly to the west but, really, just wherever he and mum thought we'd be safest."

Harry drew her a bit closer, touching his lips to her forehead, distressed by the thought that Daphne had been so close – just beyond the boundaries – and been chased away from safety, "Did…did they ever –"

"Yeah. Couple of times. I – uh –" she grinned a little, giving a shrug; "I helped him fight them off a bit. With the things you taught me."

Harry smiled, glad that the fact that their 'defence tutorials' had been just that for long enough for her to pick up some stuff, before they had been cast aside in favour of cosy cuddles and kisses on the cushions up in the Astronomy Tower.

"Eventually, we ended up in a tent in the Forest of Dean. There were a few people – people running – passing through there. That's where they found us. My father tried but…"

Daphne's voice tapered off, her eyes lowering. And, when Harry pulled her closer, he heard a little hitch of her breath – trying to keep her emotions in check – and he held her.

A whistle sounded loudly from the table nearby – Malachi – and Harry made to shoot him a look, but the whistle wasn't for them. Looking up ahead, Harry could see Mr. Black spinning Tonks around the dancefloor – Tonks laughing for the first time in weeks – and the rest of them all laughed at the sight of it, as people scrambled to get out of their way.

Daphne drew back slightly, smiling as she met Harry's eyes.

Harry raised an eyebrow and held up a hand for her to take, a smile playing on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

Daphne giggled a little, glancing away, before she nodded and put her hand in his and he tugged her out on the dancefloor.

Harry spun her round – in the same way Mr. Black did with Tonks – until Daphne's eyes shone bright and she laughed that sweet, sweet sound that he loved, and he laughed along with her.

Keen to help her smile and relax and forget for a little while and she let him, cuddling in close whenever the music called for it.

It was after one by the time they stopped, Daphne saying she'd better get back.

"Tori went back ages ago. My mum's gonna kill me for staying out this late, as it is," she said, gathering up her cloak from where it was on the chair beside Malachi.

She gave Malachi a nudge and a smile; "Public Relations workshop tomorrow, right? See you then, big-brother-to-be."

Malachi grinned at her, before giving Harry a nod, and Harry reached for Daphne's hand, the two of them heading from the ballroom.

The grounds were entirely deserted – which was actually quite odd, even for that time of night, what with the music still in full swing – but Harry certainly wasn't complaining.

He drew Daphne in close, pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking along behind her, with his arms wrapped around her waist.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured against her ear.

Daphne chuckled, nodding, "Yeah, I know."

"Miss me?"

"Hm. Maybe."

Harry laughed and stopped, turning her to face him, and he kissed her properly that time – glad of the privacy overlooked only by the stars and the moonlight – and she reached up, taking his face in her hands the way she did and returning his affection with the same eagerness.

Until, suddenly, something struck her from behind and Daphne jerked forward and went limp in his arms.

Harry only just managed to grasp her in time to keep her upright, eyes glancing over her, worriedly; "Daphne?"

A scrape of boots on the pebbled ground made him look up – catching sight of someone a few feet away for only a second – before a light flashed forward, striking him, and all went dark.

* * *

"Harry?"

A soft voice – his mum's – called to him, distantly.

For a second, Harry felt suspended in time.

Before, suddenly, he jerked awake, finding himself in his bed – fully clothed and above the covers – with his mum sitting upon the edge of it.

"Mum –" Harry gasped out, before it all came back to him and he quickly sat up, "Daphne – is she?"

"Shh. Daphne's fine, Sweetheart," his mum said, brushing the hair back from his forehead – as if he were five and not fifteen – and he looked at the door, keen to go and find her, "She's back in her own quarters with her mum and sister."

"What happened? Was it – Death Eaters?"

Harry realised the second the words left his lips that wasn't possible, his mum confirming it with a shake of her head.

"No. No, it was – it was someone from inside the Foundation."

Harry swallowed, as the words sunk in.

"They wanted to take me to him," Harry said, "For the money."

For a minute Harry thought his mum might deny it – lie to him – but she didn't. Instead, she just gave a little nod, with a grim set of her lips.

"Makes sense. A hundred thousand galleons. They'd never go hungry with that."

His mum sighed and pulled him into a hug, shaking her head.

"How'd you find me?"

"The Security Personnel whom you were _so_ convinced you didn't need was following you. He apprehended the man immediately after he attacked you."

Harry looked sheepish, then, remembering how annoyed and resistant he had been when his mum had told him that there'd be someone tailing him and Grace – and Malachi – from now on, wherever they were going within the Foundation.

"Didn't even notice them," Harry admitted, blushing a little bit at what this person was obviously 'observing' before he and Daphne had been attacked.

He frowned, meeting his mum's eyes again.

"Um…who was it? Did – did you know them?"

"Yes," his mum said, swallowing before adding, "He was a colleague of mine. Conan Chesney."

The name was vaguely familiar – Harry had heard his mum and a few others mention him a few times – and he shifted, pushing himself.

"A colleague? Wasn't…wasn't he, like, a friend of yours?"

His mum nodded.

"Yes. He was."

Harry lowered his eyes. Nothing either of them could say to dismiss the dire reality of it; that, as things became more desperate, more and more of them – friends – may start to turn on one another.

Self-preservation kicking in, in an ever-intensifying fight for survival.

"What happened to him?"

* * *

"He's with Security Personnel under guard in the office two doors down," Regulus explained to the three gathered in his office – just Mad-Eye, Tonks and Kingsley at that time of night.

"It was only a matter of time," Kingsley said, speaking the cold hard truth of it, "With the ongoing unrest, if it had not been Harry Potter, it would have been –"

"I say we chuck him out, let the Death Eaters at him," Mad-Eye said, "That ought to make a strong enough statement and keep 'em all in line."

"We can't let Death Eaters at him, Mad-Eye, he knows too much," Tonks shot him a look.

"In that case you all know what we gotta do," Mad-Eye crossed his arms, looking at the three of them unyieldingly, "With supplies as scare as they are, no use wasting them on people who'd kidnap kids and hand 'em over to Voldemort, am I right?"

Regulus pressed a hand to his face, while Kingsley shook his head.

"We cannot execute a man without a trial, Alastor."

"Well, then, what do you suggest, Kingsley? Those people are getting out of control and what kind of message does it send if there's no punishment for attempted _ransom_?"

"We can use one of the labs," Regulus said, "Divide it up into…cells and put a guard on him."

"A complete drain on our resources, Regulus," Mad-Eye eyed him.

Regulus glanced at Kingsley, who nodded.

"Cells. Until all of this is over and he can face a fair trial," Kingsley said, to Mad-Eye's annoyance.

"Could work," Tonks nodded, seeming to agree, "As a deterrent for anyone else, too. People are going crazy enough, having the whole Foundation to wander round in. No one's gonna want to spend the rest of their time here locked up in a cage."

"Aye. A deterrent," Mad-Eye nodded, before addressing Regulus once again, "You ought to throw in those two you caught raiding the kitchens the other night with him."

"They weren't _raiding_ , Alastor, their kids were hungry, they were looking for a snack," Regulus rolled his eyes, "We're not running a prison here."

"We're all bloody starving, Regulus, that's no excuse for thieving," Alastor almost growled.

"Alright, so we're in agreement, then? Anyone wanna come down and help me convert this lab?" Tonks said, raising her eyebrows, attempting to diffuse the situation.

Kingsley nodded, the two of them heading from the room.

"That coulda been your boy, Regulus," Mad-Eye said once they'd left, as Regulus drew in a breath and went to sit behind his desk.

"We've got a serious problem here. If we don't clamp down on this, now, then that's something that's going to prove fatal to everything we're trying to do here."

"He's one man, Alastor, his actions don't speak for all of them."

"Maybe not, but you mark my words they do speak for some of them and one is all it takes. Every single family member of yours in this place have a real hefty price tag hanging 'round their necks; even the wee 'un, when they come along in a couple of months."

Regulus swallowed, hard, against the reminded threat – the unwelcome truth – as Mad-Eye went on.

"With Voldemort growing stronger by the day, he's got more Death Eaters surrounding these walls than he does inside the damn Ministry, and it's hardly a pretty sight for the folk in here looking out these windows and seeing two dozen dementors floating around the place. Someone's gonna try again – and they won't be targeting _you_ , mind, they'll be going after the weakest, those kids – the longer this goes on, the further away the end of this fight gets."

Regulus nodded, knowing it were true; that ranks would soon break, the more bleak and difficult things became.

The end of Voldemort's reign nowhere in sight, as far as all within the walls were concerned.

"Night, Regulus," Mad-Eye said, when he was aware the warnings hadn't fallen on deaf ears, and Regulus inclined his chin before the man headed out the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Regulus' eyes remained upon the desk for a moment, as he contemplated the truth of it, the unsustainability of their current circumstances.

A starving, desperate people fighting a war they could never win.

With his chin in his hand, he thought of Malachi. And of the baby, soon to be born, and of Harry and Draco; all whom people may soon eye as a solution.

A ticket to their own – and their family's – freedom; to safety and riches.

Regulus reached down, opening the bottom drawer of his desk, and eyed the wooden box that lay within it – contemplating the envelope that laid inside, the answers he had been seeking some months before – but, just as he reached down to grasp it, a knock at the door sounded.

Regulus kicked the drawer shut with his foot.

* * *

Harry was determined to prove his mum wrong.

Spells fired back and forth in quick succession – one after the other, immediately on the heels of deflecting Mr. Black's attempts – as both of them darted about the room.

Mr. Black was careful, as always, not to make eye contact; playing to his own strengths and against his weaknesses, as he'd told Harry to.

Harry ducked down behind the cushioned wall that had been installed today – a new obstacle – while Mr. Black jumped up onto one of the others a few feet away.

Harry fired a spell out from behind it, before taking cover again and – taking the chance – directed his attention to the row of pebbles Mr. Black had set up along the side of the room and transfigured a couple into little arrowheads before – with a swish – he fired them Mr. Black's way.

Mr. Black chuckled and easily deflected them – but he _did_ look impressed – and while he was distracted with another two Harry sent his way, Harry fired a stinging hex at him, getting him in the knee and making him yelp.

Harry grinned but reminded himself not to get too cocky – a hit was not a win, as Mr. Black had said and proven more than once – and he fired another spell that Mr. Black deflected, and the pace picked up, then.

Spells shots back and forth, getting faster and faster – and Harry forced himself to remain focused on the here and now and not get distracted by the delighted thought that this was a little bit like how it had looked when Mr. Black had dueled Snape – as Harry deflected with one swish, and attacked with the next.

And then he took another chance – Mr. Black _did_ say he was quick – and with the next deflection he fired two, as quickly as he could, which Mr. Black wasn't expecting – a second stinging hex hitting Mr. Black on the arm that time – and Harry didn't wait that time.

"Expelliarmus!"

Mr. Black's wand flew across the room but, still, Harry didn't wait and leave it there – he'd learned that wandless magic meant to be disarmed was not _quite_ a defeat either – and then he hit Mr. Black with another spell – one of those knocking ones he always hit Harry with – and Mr. Black landed on his back with an _'oomph!'._

Harry grinned, hesitantly lowering his wand.

Mr. Black chuckled where he lay on the cushioned floor, before his head lifted and he grinned, pointing a finger at him; "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

Harry chuckled, letting himself feel delighted by his win, then, when Mr. Black conceded defeat and he walked over and held out a hand, helping him to his feet.

Mr. Black brushed off his robes, a smile still playing on his lips, before he put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Excellent, Harry. You played on your own strengths rather than focusing on my weaknesses to your advantage."

"Then weaknesses aren't something to try and figure out?" Harry asked, with a frown.

"Well. All duelists are aware of their own weaknesses. Certain weaknesses _can_ be used to your advantage," Mr. Black conceded, as he retrieved his wand, and then he grinned at Harry as he approached the table by the door, "Cockiness, for example, is something that could absolutely be used against one's opponent. Particularly if they think little of your chances at victory."

"Is that why I keep winning against you now?"

"Oh ho," Mr. Black laughed, shaking his head, as he reached the table and lifted his bottle of water, taking a drink.

"Well, that _is_ the fourth time I've defeated you now."

"Are we keeping a tally? Wish I'd known that in the beginning –" Mr. Black's eyes twinkled, "Could've won myself a hefty prize."

Harry chuckled as he reached his side, "I don't mean it in a bragging way. I just…"

Mr. Black's amusement faded away at Harry's hesitation.

"Just?"

Harry looked at him hopefully, seriously, "I hoped you might talk to my mum. Tell her that I'm not this helpless kid she seems to think I am."

"Ah."

"I want to fight. It's not right that I'm back here, not involved in the war effort, when I'm one of the people Voldemort actually wants."

Mr. Black put a hand on his shoulder.

His look was far more sympathetic than his mum's had been, but the answer was still the same; "Harry. You're only fifteen."

"I'm almost sixteen."

"Still not of age."

"Who cares about whether or not I'm of age in the middle of a war, Mr. Black," Harry shook his head.

And then he drew in a breath, turning more to face him, imploring; "Sirius once told me that the only way we could win against Voldemort is if _everyone_ stands up and fights back against him. That we can't just go around scared all the time. I _want_ to _fight_."

Mr. Black kept his eyes on his and, when he smiled, it was warm, smaller than usual, and had such a genuineness about it that it softened his features and Harry smiled back.

"Well. Sirius always was incredibly reckless," Mr. Black said, rolling his eyes and taking another drink of water, before pointing Harry's way with the bottle, "You are very like him. Your cheek. You can certainly see his influence on you."

Harry smiled.

Mr. Black didn't quite though, eyes on the bottle he held; instead getting a little bit of a lost look about him, like he was going away into his own thoughts.

Thoughts about Sirius.

And, while Harry tentatively looked at him, he could see the tiniest flicker of regret again.

Harry knew how that was.

"It wasn't your fault you know," Harry said, quietly, while Mr. Black met his eyes, getting a bewildered frown, "What happened to him."

"Oh," Mr. Black immediately shook his head, glancing away – shutting down; "Harry –"

"I carried that for a long time," Harry said, quickly, interrupting him, "For the longest time I couldn't stop thinking about…well. I was just so convinced that, if I hadn't been there that night, Uncle Sirius would still be alive. He would've had a chance and…and maybe what happened would have went differently."

Mr. Black's gaze warmed, then, and he shook his head, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry. Sirius wouldn't have had it any other way. He died to protect you. He loved you."

Harry held his gaze, nodding slowly.

"I know that now. But…it's the same for you too, Mr. Black."

Mr. Black's eyes lowered, slightly – visibly touched – but he didn't concede the statement.

Just didn't deny it either.

Harry shook his head; "Besides, what sort of person would someone be if they weren't willing to die for the people they loved? I know if it had been me…I'd of done it. I'd do it. So, would you, right?"

Mr. Black met his eyes at that.

Harry stared back.

And then, he had a thought, as he finally looked into the blue-grey eyes that was similar, but not quite the same, as his Godfather's.

Harry knew he shouldn't. They weren't dueling. This wasn't combat.

But Harry could tell, just by the look in Mr. Black's eyes that his mind was far away.

Gone and lost with thoughts of Sirius.

Someone Harry missed so dreadfully much and, really, this was the only way he'd ever see him. In a memory, like Snape had shown him with his dad.

Sirius' laughter.

His smiling face.

It was too tempting a picture – a chance – to pass up.

That Harry _wouldn't_ take it wasn't a thought that even registered as he attempted to grasp at faded memories of his own, and he ever so carefully thought the incantation – _'legillimens_ ' – and brushed the surface of Mr. Black's mind.

Harry half-expected it not to work – though he willed it _so much_ – and, so, when it _did_ work, and a memory fluttered before him, Harry almost reacted.

But it wasn't Sirius' face before him, that he'd so longed to see.

No.

It was Snape.

And his far away voice spoke; _"Harry is a horcrux. I need your help to get it out –"_

Harry lost the memory – the briefest of flashes – when Mr. Black glanced away – entirely unaware of what Harry had just done – and lifted the bottle he held to his lips, taking another drink.

Before he capped it and gave Harry a warm smile, as he reached up and squeezed his shoulder.

"You really are growing up to be an _extraordinary_ young man, Harry. He'd have been very proud. But don't forget that right now –" he poked Harry in the chest with a grin that made Harry smile, " – you _are_ only a fifteen-year old boy – frustrating as that may be – and you leave that sort of thinking up to us _withered_ old warts, alright?"

Harry chuckled.

And then he opened his mouth, his question _– 'what's a horcrux?' –_ on the tip of his tongue but, before Harry could speak, the door to the training room burst open and Tonks was stood there, looking rattled.

"Uncle Reg."

"Dora, what is it?"

"It's…you need to come, now."

Mr. Black glanced back at Harry, "Oh. Well. Excuse me, Harry. We'll leave it here, alright?"

Harry had barely even nodded, before Mr. Black hurried from the room.

* * *

"They went right for him. Like they _knew_ it was Alastor," Lily told him, as Regulus paced the office – Tonks and Kingsley also present within it – trying to comprehend the devastating enough fact that Alastor Moody was _dead_ , without the added implications of what that meant.

"The Foundation is compromised," Kingsley said, needlessly – all within the room knew it – and went on; "Everyone to whom Alastor spoke the location is now able to pass on the information. Voldemort knows this now."

"Well, it's not like anyone we don't trust is going to fall into Death Eaters' hands, is it?" Tonks pointed out, optimistically, "It's only Order members who leave the walls."

"With hundreds of thousands of galleons available for the capture of those within said walls, it is inevitable that, soon, someone will attempt to leave and offer up the location in exchange for riches and their own personal safety," Kingsley said.

Tonks sighed, shrugging, "So, what do we do? Evacuate? Find another place?"

Regulus opened his mouth to speak.

"No," Lily said, first, shaking her head, "No one is going to try and leave to give up the location if they don't know that they _can_. Only a handful knew who the Secret Keeper was until –"

"Until Mad-Eye started speaking the words to the most recently recovered," Regulus pointed out.

"Then we don't announce it," Lily said, determinedly, "As far as people know, Alastor is still alive and well and out there bringing people in."

The four of them shared glances between them; uneasy, yes, but knowing that was the better of the two options, the best way to ensure the safety of those under their care.

"Can we still hold a service for him?" Tonks asked and – when she did – Regulus saw that look of grief in her eyes, again, that her mentor was lost; "Just Order members. Those who'd have to know, anyway?"

Regulus nodded; "Of course, Sweetheart."

Tonks smiled, nodding, before she indicated with her head at the door; "I'll go and…try and think up a little something."

"Want some help?" Lily offered.

Tonks smiled and nodded, the two of them heading from the room.

Kingsley turned to Regulus once the two of them left the room.

"There is only so far keeping hundreds of people in ignorance will go. Soon, people will begin to piece it together – that Alastor has not been seen for days, weeks – and, in the heat of the moment, one of us may speak the location to those who are incoming. And then stories will start to spread. The truth _will_ come out. The defences will fall and, when they do, there will be nowhere for any of us to run. . It is only a matter of time, Regulus."

Regulus nodded, slowly.

Before he glanced in the direction of the desk.

And then he drew in a breath – making the decision – and walking over to it.

He pulled open the bottom drawer and took out the box, flicking it open with his thumb and lifting the envelope with far more assurance than he had felt in some time.

"Well. We'll be ready for him when it does."

Regulus handed it over to Kingsley.

"What is this?"

"It's the location of someone who has answers that could help us."

Kingsley read it, slowly, before meeting Regulus' eyes.

"Eugene Hopkins."

"Yes."

Kingsley cleared his throat, looking entirely sceptical.

"And in what manner could this…man –" he said it with unconcealed revulsion, "- possibly help us?"

"He is no ally of Voldemort. And Eugene knows magic that Voldemort knows not."

Kingsley eyed him.

"And you believe that Eugene Hopkins would be willing to help _you_?"

"I do," Regulus said before he got a wry smile, rolling his eyes, "For a price, of course."

"Of course."

Kingsley's eyes remained on Regulus for a moment longer, seeming to contemplate the suggestion – the implication – but both knew that the safety of hundreds certainly trumped that of a single man, and so Kingsley nodded.

"Very well. Tonks and I shall –"

"No, not - not Dora."

Kingsley pursed his lips together, in realization – Andromeda – and gave a nod.

"I and another shall retrieve him – discreetly – so that you and he may _negotiate_."

Regulus nodded, "Thank you, Kingsley. Be safe out there."

"The States are not at war," Kingsley pointed out, before smiling, "I may, in fact, just enjoy it over there on this brief venture."

Regulus chuckled, nodding.

"You do that."

Kingsley became serious once more.

"Be safe, here, Regulus."

And then Kingsley tucked the envelope with Eugene Hopkins address into his robes and strode from the room.


	87. May 1996: Eugene Hopkins

"How come Mummy's not eating with us?" Grace asked with a frown, sitting opposite Harry in the Bistro, at a long table that had been transfigured – one of two which were filled with all the underage residents of the Foundation – that resembled those of the House tables at Hogwarts.

"Because kids eat first now," Harry reminded her, as he eagerly tucked in to the small plate in front of him – delighted to see meat, as well as potatoes and gravy upon it, today – as Grace eyed hers looking less than impressed.

"But if we eat now, we'll be hungry tonight," Grace pointed out, "And we don't get food again until the morning!"

"If you're not hungry, feel free to pass it round, Potter," Malfoy remarked from a few seats up.

Harry glowered at him, before nodding his chin at his sister, "Come on, Grace."

"Hey, there's a bit of bread, see," Malachi pointed out, lifting it from her plate and holding it to her, "Keep it in your pocket for before bed. That's what I do."

Grace did as Malachi said, giving him as smile, as she wrapped it in a napkin before tucking the small slice of baguette into the folds of her robes.

There was none of the excited chatter that filled the Great Hall of Hogwarts during these times – not that these tiny offerings were comparable to those feasts – as everyone at the table eagerly devoured the food on their plates in almost complete silence, most done within five minutes of sitting down.

"Alright, everyone coming back to the Learning Center, this way!" Mrs. Gillan called the younger kids away and, when they departed – Grace giving Harry a smile of farewell – it left just Malachi and Harry at the top end of their table.

"Did you bring it?" Malachi whispered.

Harry nodded, glancing around them, before he tugged out the end of the Invisibility Cloak from where it was stuffed into the satchel he'd brought with him.

Malachi grinned and the two of them got to their feet, making their way to the Research Center – tailed closely by their respective Security Personnel – to the Herbology workshop that they'd decided would be the perfect cover up for their planned afternoon pursuits.

They stepped through the door to the lab, stopping to quickly sign in their names, and were pleased to see there were a good number of other kids in there – so it would be easy to slip away – while the two men who followed, stopped and waited outside the door; each of them shaking out a newspaper and a magazine, respectively, clearly preparing to just settle down for the next couple of hours and enjoy the break.

Harry followed Malachi deeper into the room, mulling over what a dull job _that_ must be – just following a kid around an almost-totally safe place, waiting for someone to attack all day.

"You're sure you saw them in your dad's office?" Harry asked, quietly, when they reached the back of the room, "The stuff about horcruxes?"

Malachi nodded, "Yeah. I saw it a few days ago, there was a box with some stuff in it. I didn't really look – just caught it when I saw your mum go in for something – but there's definitely some stuff about them in there."

With a glance at the door – confirming the guards were happily engaged int their own extra-curricular reading - they slipped into the corner, and Harry quickly shook out the cloak and flung it over them both in one swift motion.

And then they headed from the room, the Security Personnel none the wiser.

"Okay, we have two hours," Harry said, once they were out of earshot of anyone and they found themselves nearing the offices.

"We're not gonna need two hours," Malachi rolled his eyes, stumbling a little when their ankles knocked.

They were at the door Mr. Black office within minutes, Malachi easily lifting the wards to get in with the password – his own name – and they quickly stumbled inside.

Malachi threw off the cloak when the door shut behind them, heading up to the cupboard at the back of the room.

Harry stepped up behind him, just as Malachi turned and raised an eyebrow; "It's warded."

"Well, obviously it's a secret or something. Whatever I – whatever a horcrux is," Harry said, even more certain about the fact now, in light of this recent event; "Come on, try some passwords; it'll be easy, right?"

Malachi sighed, giving a careful glance in the direction of the door before he lifted his wand and pointed it, trying first; "Julia."

Harry tugged on the door handle, knowing it wouldn't work, and shot Malachi a look; "It'd obviously be your name."

Malachi sighed, trying again.

"Malachi."

The wards held.

Malachi shared a look with Harry.

"Try Slytherin."

"Slytherin."

The cupboard door wouldn't budge and the two of them carried on trying, becoming more impatient and anxious as time went on – " _Foundation"; "Aurelius"; "Orion"; "Sirius_ " – until Malachi shook his head, stepping back and lowering his wand.

"This is mad, Harry, I'll just ask him."

"No, don't. I don't want him knowing I used legillimency against him –"

"He won't _care_ –"

"And the fact he's got this thing warded so tight just shows how big of a secret it is," Harry said, determinedly, before he looked at Malachi, imploringly; "There must be something else. What about the baby's name?"

"The baby doesn't have a name; it's not born."

"They must have _talked_ about it."

"Mostly my dad just calls it 'Little Sprout'."

Malachi looked thoughtful, then, before he lifted his wand.

"Beansprout."

The cupboard door clicked open.

There was a second of stillness, before the two of them shared a look, and then hurriedly pulled the doors open fully and looked inside.

"It was in one of these boxes," Malachi said, indicating the three along the bottom and they knelt down, reaching in to pull some things out.

Malachi hesitated on the first thing he pulled out of the box – a silver mask – and went still as he stared at the item in his hand.

Harry reached by him, pushing aside the folds of black cloths that he knew were old Death Eaters robes – the ones Mr. Black had worn the night they'd been attacked at the Foundation – and pulled out some parchments, turning to Malachi eagerly.

"Here –"

He leaned back, shaking them out a bit, and frowned.

"They're blank."

Malachi frowned, putting the mask aside, and looked into the box Harry had pulled them from – finding it the same for all beneath – that aside from the Death Eaters garments the box was just filled with piles of seemingly-blank parchment.

They looked into the other two boxes and – aside from finding some old sketches of a crown and a withered map of somewhere called Little Hangleton and a torn out page from a book about Inferi – everything else they came across were just blank pieces of parchment and empty journals.

"They've obviously been charmed or something," Malachi said, while Harry felt his shoulders drop in disappointment.

After raiding the shelves of the Research Centre for weeks for any titles that might mention them – horcruxes – without any luck, when Malachi had come to him with this he'd thought – finally – something was going his way for once and he'd finally have some answers.

"Oh, wait. Look," Malachi frowned, pulling out something.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Malachi shrugged, "Just…a sketch of a snake or something. But –"

Harry reached for it and Malachi handed it over. Harry stared at it, at the sketched image that so perfectly resembled the one that Harry had seen almost two years before, now; of the snake that slithered at Voldemort's feet.

Of the snake that – Harry was sure – he, himself, kept seeing through the eyes of.

There were voices outside the door then – far earlier than they'd expected Mr. Black to be back – and they quickly put the things back into the boxes, drawing back and closing the door to the cupboard, just managing to scramble back to their feet as the door to the office opened and Mr. Black came inside.

Malachi's dad stopped, getting a frown when he noticed them.

"Malachi."

Malachi smiled, easily; "Hey, Dad."

"What are you doing in here?"

"Snooping about. Obviously."

Mr. Black rolled his eyes, before glancing over his shoulder.

"Why isn't your assigned security outside?"

"Don't worry. We left them together; they've got each other for company."

"This isn't a joke, Son," Mr. Black said, seriously, looking entirely unimpressed with the both of them, before he lifted the Invisibility Cloak that Harry had chucked over the chair on his way up to the cupboard; "They've been assigned to you boys for a reason – reasons you both ought to be aware of by now – and we don't have the resources to be playing cat and mouse with you two, when there's very real threats to be dealing with right now."

Malachi lowered his eyes, looking suitably cowed – as Harry felt – by his dad's remarks.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Yes?" Mr. Black called, seeming to push down his irritation, and he turned in its direction.

As he did, Harry noticed a sheet of parchment at his feet – a blank one that must have fallen out of the cupboard – and he quicky snatched it up, stuffing it into his robes.

The door opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt – whom Harry hadn't seen in weeks – appeared, giving Mr. Black a nod; "Regulus."

Mr. Black's eyebrows lifted, before he nodded and headed back to the door, speaking to someone on the other side of it; "Wilbur."

The Security Supervisor – the one assigned to Mr. Black – appeared, eyebrows raised; "Yes, Sir?"

"You mind escorting these two back to their own assigned personnel? They're in the –"

"Aw, Dad, we can get back down to the labs by ourselves, it's fine –"

"The labs, apparently."

"Certainly, Sir," Wilbur Rankin nodded.

Mr. Black turned back to them, inclining his chin that they follow him, and Harry and Malachi reluctantly approached, making their way from the office.

"If we take your guy, who'll be protecting you?" Malachi pointed out as they reached him.

Mr. Black grinned and raised his eyebrow; "Not nice to worry, hm?" he gave a nod at Kingsley, "I'm in good hands, Son." He leaned a little closer; "We'll have a talk about this tonight."

Malachi looked exasperated already – the scolding having not even taken place yet – but nodded and headed out, while Harry waited, expectantly, with his eyes on the Invisibility Cloak Mr. Black was holding.

Mr. Black chuckled, glancing down at the now-neatly folded cloak in his arms; "I'll give this back to your mother, shall I?"

" _What_? No! It –"

"- spares you the temptation of using it unwisely," Mr. Black finished up for him – with a firmness in his stance that Harry wasn't used to – and Harry's hands curled in frustration but, when they did, he felt the little crinkle of the parchment that he had stolen – _borrowed_ – and was suddenly eager to just get away.

Harry headed out after Malachi, the door clicking shut behind them, before the two of them made their way back in the direction of the labs with Mr. Black's Security Supervisor close – much closer than the others had walked – on their heels.

* * *

"The Foundation's defences continue to hold, I see," Kingsley remarked, when they were alone.

Regulus nodded.

"As yet, all still remain in ignorance as to Alastor's passing. Did you find Eugene Hopkins?"

Kingsley gave a nod; "We did. He came far more willingly than one might expect, considering he was giving himself up to be apprehended. Needless to say, that man is no friend of yours, Regulus. I doubt you're going to have much success with him."

"Where is he?"

"In the prepared unit – as I said, he came willingly – and he is currently under guard by Dedalus and Emmeline."

Regulus nodded.

"Thank you, Kingsley," he said, as he put the cloak he held on the desk; "There's been in change in the dining schedule – adults eat at five – you're just in time."

Kingsley glanced at the timepiece; "So I am." He looked back at Regulus; "Good luck."

Regulus smiled, as Kingsley made his way from the office.

* * *

"As all within the school are entirely aware, Minerva, group meetings of more than three students at a time are strictly prohibited. I do hope that the Head of Gryffindor House is not so foolish as to _encourage_ the students within her own care to disobey these rules."

Minerva glowered at Severus where she stood opposite him in the Tapestry Corridor – Lupin at her side – with just as much loathing – if not more so – as she had demonstrated on his return to the Castle some months before.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Headmaster," the title was ground out, as she eyed him, "It would be a great injustice to them, if _I_ were to take credit for the demonstrations of determination and bravery that the students of my House are so eager to present in these times."

"Ah. Determination and bravery, you call it?"

"Traits that may just be entirely foreign to some – I dare say – _cowardly_ individuals who do not appreciate the value of acting with honesty and integrity."

Minerva's look was scathing – the intended slight not missed by either Severus or Lupin at her side – and Severus fought down the flicker – which threatened to become a surge – of hurt but he quickly found it easy to push down.

For Lupin, it seemed, had decided that now – _now –_ was the moment to intervene – eyeing Severus with a look of obvious pity, which made his blood boil – and opened his mouth, as if to say something that might dared have been a defence.

"Well, let us put that determination and bravery to the test, shall we?" Severus said, calmly, before Lupin could say anything foolish, touching his fingertips to his lips as if in thought; "I believe a _stroll_ around the Forbidden Forest after dark this evening just might teach those fearless students of yours a lesson; that, often, it is far better to rely upon – perhaps even take time to consider – ones wits, if they should be so blessed to have them, rather than rush into things foolheartedly and follow whatever imprudent impulses that may just take their fancy in any given moment."

Minerva's stance relaxed – ever so slightly – at the suggested punishment – for the Carrows' methods were become far more frequent and notorious within the walls of the Castle – as Severus turned his eyes upon Lupin.

"I trust one of you can make the arrangements with Hagrid?"

At Lupin's nod, Severus swept by him, and made his way back to his office.

Never lingering outside of it for any longer than he needed to.

Severus strode into the Headmaster's office upon reaching it, ignoring Dumbledore's portrait which immediately sprung awake – as it always did – upon his return when he noticed that the wooden box on his desk was aglow.

He touched the tip of his wand to his finger, drawing blood, before he touched it to the top of the box to open it.

He pulled out the piece of parchment inside, reading the small scribble upon it.

_Any night, as soon as you can._

Severus frowned, eyes going back to box, and he reached in, pulling out another item that he realised had been placed within it.

Severus grasped the fabric and shook it out.

Realising as he did what it was.

Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

The slightest sound was enough to jolt him awake.

Regulus' eyes flickered open – having not really been asleep, anyway, these past few nights since he'd sent the Invisibility Cloak through the blood box to Severus – and he wondered if he had been dreaming or just thinking, when those images of Eugene Hopkins, and Anchor Ridge, and Evelyn and Andromeda all passed through his mind.

He sighed, eyes glancing to the timepiece that read past three in the morning, before he curled in more closely to Julia who slept soundly in his arms, facing away from him.

He had never _truly_ thought deeply about what he would do or say when faced with Eugene Hopkins again – knowing what each of them had done to the other – far too wrapped up in thoughts – dreams, as Severus put it – of the great successes they could achieve if they could actually work together.

Perhaps, even, the defeat of Voldemort, himself.

A foolish wish, perhaps, born out of sentimentality; out of a longing for when things were far simpler. The future before them both unknown and entirely unthinkable to what it had become.

Their old mentor who had once guided them all – himself, and Severus and Andromeda – along with his own contributions to the Foundation, to accomplishment and prominence within the Wizarding World.

Now, though, with Eugene comfortably settled and easily within his clutches, Regulus faltered; Severus' warnings and assertions suddenly seeming far more prudent than they had done, before, when this all was merely a dream and an answer.

Because, now, whenever he lingered on the other side of the door to the quarters that had been prepared for him – determined to go in and just ask him everything he knew about blood magic – the thought came to him with a jolt, stilling his hand upon the doorknob.

This man had killed Andromeda – she, whom Eugene was so fond of – and Evelyn – Malachi, almost, along with her – all for the simple underlying motive that to do so would destroy Regulus.

Had attempted to wipe out the entire Black bloodline all in the name of vengeance; his loved ones – his son – the innocent, all to be killed for Regulus' crimes.

And then, shaking and furious and remorseful, he'd turn away.

Knowing that, in order to get anywhere with Hopkins, he'd need to be steady - thinking clearly - for with nerves as frayed and emotions as high as they were – the Foundation on the brink of _collapse –_ Regulus knew they had only one chance at this.

One chance to convince Eugene to help them and he couldn't – in all honesty – trust either himself or Eugene to react rationally when faced with one another once more.

Which – under the current circumstances and so many depending upon this being a success – simply would not do.

They couldn't blow this chance now.

A flash of light suddenly filled the room; a silvery doe floating up and suspending itself above the bed for a moment before vanishing without a word and plunging the room back into darkness.

Regulus almost leapt out of bed – at the signal of Severus' arrival – but, before he could move at all, Julia stirred, turning to face him with an endearingly bleary frown.

"Did you turn on the light?" she murmured.

Regulus smiled, cuddling in closer, his thumb gently stroking against the large bump of her stomach where his hand rested and whispered; "Sorry."

Regulus held her until she fell back asleep, hand remaining where it was, and he smiled again – warmed with a little flutter of love and longing – when he felt it; the tiny little thumps of the baby – their child – kicking against his palm.

The life they'd created, that would soon – just a few weeks from now – be born into this world.

Regulus became sombre, almost instantly, at the thought.

Of the reality that their baby would very soon be coming into and, with a gentle brush of his lips to Julia's temple – a quick peek to ensure she was asleep – he carefully pushed himself out of bed and made his way from the quarters.

* * *

"Albus was deluded if he actually thought this was sustainable," Regulus said, while Severus stood opposite him in the basement of the Foundation with his fingers pressed to his eyelids – as if he could press hard enough to erase Regulus' idiocy from existence; "This is not a school. These are grown men and women, fearing for their lives. They cannot be kept in line by threat of detentions and fear of howlers from angry parents!"

Severus scoffed, dropping his hands and shaking his head.

"You are the one who is deluded, Regulus, thinking that Eugene Hopkins will in any way help solve this problem."

"Why wouldn't he?" Regulus turned to face him, "He's here, now, he's not going to want Death Eaters raiding the place any more than we do."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Hopkins is no doubt more than aware of the Dark Lord's wish to have you skinned alive; I rather think he'd enjoy the show."

"Eugene is not a fool, Severus, far from it. And he's also one of the very few people on this planet who actually knows how to utilize Blood Magic. If there's any way of manipulating these blood wards to protect the Foundation, Eugene will know how to do it."

Severus glowered at him; "And that is the only reason you have summoned him, is it?"

Regulus glanced away.

"No," Severus smirked, "Of course not. I am no fool, either, Regulus; I know very well what you are up to. A _happy coincide_ that Hopkins just so happens to be in your clutches, after you were so adamant of the need to involve him only months ago in your ridiculous –"

"Ridiculous, is it, that I should want to exhaust every avenue available to us to eliminate Voldemort?"

"Ridiculous fantasies and delusions of grandeur; is it not enough for you, that you have taken up the mantle of leader of the Resistance? No. Of course not. Instead, you seek to orchestrate events so that you can _heroically_ sacrifice yourself in the name of a better world. Is that what it will take, Regulus, for you to finally find absolution?"

Regulus lifted his chin, eyeing him, not even bothering to hide that the comments stung.

" _Ancestral magic will not work_ ," Severus said, enunciating each word; "Aside from our previous _exhaustive_ endeavors to find a way to utilize it –" Severus ignored Regulus' unimpressed look, belying his scepticism that Severus had even looked into it at all, and went on " – with the soul fragment still residing inside of Harry –"

"Voldemort has fallen with horcruxes binding him to life before," Regulus finally snapped, interrupting him; "It could give us _years_ , Severus, the last time it gave us five –"

"It would give 'us' nothing, for the entire concept is contingent upon your own death!"

Regulus sighed then, glancing away, before he met Severus' eyes once more, speaking more calmly – with irritating assuredness; "Five years, Severus. And, even then, only if he has any followers left foolish enough to resurrect him. I rather imagine after this, support from his own Death Eaters is not quite as strong as it used to be."

"Well, I will play no part in another of your –"

"There is a price on your daughter's head, Severus!"

Severus eyed him at the unwelcome truth.

"There is a price on my son's, my baby's; and we have them in amongst people whom I no longer trust. I'm not having another member of my family – my _children_ – die for this war. After what happened with Harry –"

"What happened with Harry?"

Severus frowned.

Regulus hesitated, looking uncertain for a moment, before he cleared his throat; "Chesney. He attacked him; tried to ransom him a few weeks ago –"

"He _what?"_

Regulus said nothing, just stared back at him; with the unconcealed, grim truth of what was going on within the Foundation.

Severus flexed his jaw.

"Where is he?"

Regulus rolled his eyes and held up a hand.

"It doesn't matter where he is," he said, as if entirely aware of the various means by which Severus was planning to make him suffer for it; "Chesney is not the problem; we've got him under control. The problem is _Voldemort._ And so long as he continues to maintain his stronghold, incidents such as this are only going to keep happening. Eugene just might have the answers that we've been looking for."

Severus' lips twisted.

"And I suppose you summoned me here to put to use the great bond of friendship that Eugene Hopkins and I share?"

"Actually, I was hoping that you might be a little more intimating in your approach; warm and fuzzy as you always tend to be. Eugene would not negotiate with me."

"Ah," Severus raised an eyebrow, "And what is to be our terms of negotiation, Regulus?"

"You know well enough what. Otherwise we wouldn't be standing here wasting our time having this conversation. The Blood Wards. And if he just so happens to know a way to severe the bloodline –"

"Impossible –"

"Then, from there, we can work out how to utilize the ancestral magic that was successful implemented by the Longbottoms and defeat Voldemort."

"Subdue him."

"Fine. Subdue him. Either way, our children will eat for a few more years and not have to be tailed by bloody security escorts whenever they need to use the damn bathroom!"

Severus shook his head, storming past him towards the door.

"There are no words to convey what an utter fool you are, Regulus," Severus ground out as he stopped at the door, shaking out the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it over his head; not taking any chances of being spotted, even if it _was_ gone three in the morning by the time he'd come to meet Regulus here.

"Where is he?"

"Follow me."

Regulus pulled open the door and headed out, several paces ahead of him as he led Severus in the direction of the labs.

Despite it being the middle of the night, the corridors weren't entirely empty – and it was achingly familiar, to be walking through these hallways once again – with the odd few people he recognized scattered about, nodding and smiling Regulus' way with – what appeared to be – genuine ease and fondness, no false pretenses at all from what Severus could observe beneath the cloak of invisibility.

But, even then, with this news of the attempted capture of Harry – the reminded thought making his fists curl – Severus knew that Regulus' concerns were not entirely without merit.

Severus waited at the end of the corridor to the labs, when he noticed Regulus had now stopped before two guards at one of the doors, quickly engaging in jokes and conversation, before he dismissed them and the two men – looking a little bewildered – headed in Severus' direction; passing him and heading up the stairs, entirely unaware of his presence.

Severus approached where Regulus stood – saying nothing to him when he reached him – and, instead, just cleared his throat.

Regulus rolled his eyes – knowing Severus was glaring at him, even if he couldn't see him – and muttered a few incantations before the door clicked open.

Severus made to stride into the room but was stopped by Regulus holding out a thick roll of parchments just in front of him.

Severus reached out a hand from beneath the cloak, snatching them before anyone could see, and passed him, stepping across the threshold.

The room – which Severus was expecting to be a sparse prison-like cell – was nothing of the sort.

There was a comfortably made-up bed – the only complaint one might make that it was a narrow single – and a couch. A bookcase with several books. A table and chairs. Even a cooling unit, in the corner, beside a door that clearly led into a private bathroom.

Eugene Hopkins was sitting up in the bed, eyes upon where Severus stood, even if he couldn't see him – obviously having heard the open and close of the door upon his entrance – and Severus just stared back at him.

A surge of loathing came over him as his eyes lingered.

Severus reached up, tugging the cloak from his head, and revealed himself.

Hopkins stared back at him, eyes darkening as their eyes met.

"Hello Eugene."

Severus flicked his wand, lighting the room.

"Ah," Hopkins leaned back against the headboard – entirely unafraid – and smiled; "Severus, my boy. I _did_ wonder which of the two of you it would be. Though I must admit, I had always thought it would be Regulus. He is…softer."

"You really think yourself and Regulus could be in the same room without killing one another?"

"It is funny, isn't it? Everyone who knows either of us would not even dream of it, that either of us would be capable of such a crime," Hopkins lifted his eyebrows; "We, smiling foes? Oh, how wrong they would be."

Severus looked back at him, his loathing increasing with each second their eyes lingered upon one another's.

"You killed Andromeda."

"She was a casualty. Not an intended."

"She was a good woman."

"Yes. She was," Hopkins agreed, before he eyed Severus with disgust; "The same cannot be said of the men she walked with."

"Do you include yourself in that description, Eugene?"

"Certainly. You think I wanted this?"

"You dare to show _remorse_?"

"Do _you_ , Severus?" Hopkins leaned forward, slightly, with that same look of revulsion in his eyes that was becoming incredibly familiar to him now; "Do _you_ show remorse for your sins?"

"Perhaps."

"You are _scum_ ," Hopkins spat; "You are _both_ scum. Just like me, true. But at least I own that."

"Living it up in the States, drinking and dancing and being merry every night is 'owning it'?"

"It works for Regulus."

Severus crossed his arms.

"What, precisely, have you boys called me here for, hm? What is it that you could so _desperately_ want, to have possibly come and tracked me down after all these years?"

"What we all want. The Dark Lord gone."

"Ah. And I am key to this great feat, am I? The defeat of the almighty Voldemort?"

"Regulus believes that Blood Magic is the key to that."

Hopkins looked stunned speechless for a moment.

And then he laughed.

"Ha. Ha ha ha!"

"You find this amusing."

"Only because I know what you are going to say next."

"You always were astute. We need your help."

"I cannot help you," Hopkins said, smirking and shaking his head; "I _will not_ help you."

"You would not only be helping us two. You'd be helping us _all_. Yourself and your own family, included. Don't think just because you and your wife are living overseas that you will remain untouched. The Dark Lord's boundaries will not stop at the border; he will branch out. Soon, it will all be his."

"So certain of his ultimate conquest, are you?"

"It is inevitable if those who oppose him cannot pull together."

"I would sooner turn my own wand upon myself than stand with either of you."

"And yet, here you are, behind our very walls. Which brings us to our first matter of business," Severus said, tossing the parchments onto Hopkins bed.

Hopkins eyed them for a moment, not touching them as Severus made a slow pace of the room.

"The defences of the Foundation are currently compromised. We are aware of the existence of a blood charm that may be evoked – the Bonds of Blood – which, when implemented, protect a residence from those who would mean it – and those within it – harm."

"Ah," Hopkins lifted his chin, quickly catching on to the implications; "Then the Boy-Who-Lived is here as well, is he? I should dearly like to shake the hand of one of the single more honourable beings within these walls."

"The single? And what have the others here done that you now consider them so _beneath_ you, dare I ask?"

"They follow Regulus."

Severus' lips twisted.

"You are surely are aware that it is in your own interests, Eugene, to cooperate in this matter. You are, after all, a resident of the Foundation, yourself, now – with no chance of ever returning to your cosy little apartment on the coast with your wife, so long as the Dark Lord remains living – and what harm, truly, would it do you in this case? I dare say, you were fond of some of those within these walls, yourself, once upon a time; and do you really intend to allow them to be sacrificed in the name of bitterness and vengeance?"

"Do you think I can be so easily manipulated into doing your bidding, Severus? As if making me your prisoner in some way affiliates us with one another?"

"Manipulation you may call it; imploring upon the triumph of common sense is another."

Hopkins eyed him from where he remained sitting up in bed – still having not bothered to get out of it – before he reached for the parchments Regulus had handed over to Severus that were resting on his lap.

"It is not possible, Severus. I doubt a man such as yourself is capable of understanding what exactly happened the night Harry Potter lived, so, let me spell it out for you; the magic evoked by Sirius Black when he sacrificed his life for that child was brought about by an act of love. It was a profound, unconditional love that evoked a magic not seen for centuries – that of the Old – and while, yes, it is a magic that those who have a deep understanding of the branch of blood magic have attempted to manipulate, even those manipulations must remain true to the original evocation. Love. _That_ is the reason the place which the blood wards protect must be – irrevocably – considered as home."

Severus stared back at him. Despite knowing it was foolish to come here in the first place – that there was no way Eugene Hopkins, of all people, would be able to help – he found himself irritated at the confirmation of the fact.

That it was only a matter of time before the Fidelius protection crumbled and they were powerless to stop it.

Hopkins fingered through the parchments on his lap, with almost lazy disinterest for a moment, before he paused, going still for a moment.

"You could – as I see you have already come across – bind the life forces of the two in question, so that one might take the place of the other, should they find themselves in future instances of mortal peril; the door to future sacrifices protecting this child _was_ opened by the original."

Severus glanced away, as appalled at the suggestion as he had been when Regulus had implied the same, some months before.

"This is about more than the life of one."

Hopkins looked thoughtful, then, eyeing the text of the parchment in front of him. Before he turned to the next. And then the next.

The man got a slow smile, as he made his way through.

"Hm. It seems Regulus hopes to severe the bloodline between himself and his son, to spare his son the consequences of his father's sins –" Hopkins lifted his eyes to the side, "Well, this _one_ sin, granted. How touching."

"Indeed."

Hopkins smirked, eyes meeting his; "So, one might be led to believe. Regulus always did have a way of wiggling out of enduring the consequences of his actions under the guise of love and loyalty."

Severus rolled his eyes, becoming exasperated by – what he was now certain, more than ever – was a complete waste of his time.

He glanced at the timepiece, that read just before five, now, and close to the time he ought to be making his way back to Hogwarts, before he went on, not bothering to hide his impatience.

"Can it be done?"

"No. A severing of the bloodline is a penalty inflicted as retribution for the abuse of blood magic for one's own gain – and to call upon the collective force of one's ancestors for one's own increase in magical power is certainly that," Hopkins said, before he scoffed, shaking his head in disgust; "To severe the bloodline cannot be enacted, willingly, by those who are to be affected to protect themselves from the consequential curse. That defeats the entire purpose of the occurrence."

Severus nodded, turning on his heel and not even bothering to retrieve the parchments that he had brought with him – with any luck Hopkins would destroy them and put end to Regulus' foolishness once and for all – and made his way to the door.

"That is all I wished to know. Good day, Hopkins."

"Leaving so soon, Severus?" Hopkins called after him; "And there was me thinking you were here asking for my input on the matter."

Severus turned, his tone clipped with his impatience when he spoke; "You have a recommendation? So, give it."

"Praetereo. You are aware of the enchantment, I am sure?"

Severus eyed him; "In what manner could the ability to pass over be of benefit when calling upon Ancestral Magic? The clue is in the title, Eugene; the curse affects only the evokers own bloodline."

Hopkins leaned back, looking so _smug_ that Severus almost felt provoked into hexing the smirk from his face.

"It may not be possible to severe the bloodline between father and son. But it _is_ possible to redirect the curse that Regulus wishes to avoid inflicting upon Malachi Black further down the chain."

"The chain," Severus raised an eyebrow; "You mean the babe in the womb?"

"No indeed, Severus. That would solve nothing, I would imagine. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong, but there _is_ a mighty flaw in this plan of yours and your smiling friend."

Severus crossed his arms, already knowing what Hopkins was going to say.

"You see, Regulus – the _great_ man that he is – following this wished-for-severance of the bloodline to his son, intends to call upon and wield the magic of the Black ancestors to defeat your Great Lord."

Severus glowered at him.

"Need I point out the obvious?" Hopkins raised his eyebrows as he steepled his fingers.

Severus rolled his eyes; "The 'obvious' being that a Black life must be willingly sacrificed to channel the magic of the ancestors into the wielder."

"Ah. So, you _have_ done your homework, Severus. Indeed, two Blacks, as two Longbottoms were needed before, are required in order for your plan to work. Or, at least, two whom the Black ancestors are willing to protect and consider as one of their own."

"Get to the point," Severus snapped, "It is impossible, then?"

"Well, Severus, if Regulus were to be willing to sever the bloodline between himself and his children – then upon his _heroic_ sacrificial death – who, pray tell, will wield the magic?"

Severus simply stared at him. Furious with Regulus for sending him in here, as if this foolish scheme were actually one of his own proposals, before Hopkins went on.

"Might I make a suggestion?"

Severus frowned; confused there could even _be_ a suggestion.

Hopkins grinned; "Why; the Boy-Who Lived himself."

Severus' frown deepened.

"Impossible. Harry Potter is a half-blood. Not to mention entirely unrelated to the Black line. If one were able to redirect the curse onto those unrelated, there would be purebloods wreaking havoc, calling upon their ancestors for their own gains, and leaving whoever they so wished to deal with the consequential curse."

"Ah," Hopkins drummed his bottom lip with his fingers; "Good point. Good point. Hm. But I do believe you are missing something here, my boy. You see, Harry Potter is a rather _unique_ case, wouldn't you agree? Made so, by the sacrifice bestowed eight years ago by one Sirius Black to save the life of his Godson. All in the name of love. And whether it be Blood or Ancestral; _Old_ Magic supersedes _all_."

Hopkins lifted his chin.

"So, you see, Severus; when this blood was willingly spilled for him, Harry Potter became _bound_ to life by _Black_ _Blood_."

Severus stared at him.

"As such, the Black ancestors are already bound to recognise the boy as one of their own to protect. Mark my words, Regulus' plan _will_ work. You can redirect the ancestral magic and ensuing curse – channelled through Regulus – to bypass the first, even the second in the Black line, and onto your Boy-Who-Lived, so that _he_ may wield it _and save us all._ "

Severus stood still as stone, as he attempted to process what Hopkins was saying.

"As Frank Longbottom did before him, Harry Potter would then have the power to defeat your Dark Lord and bring peace and prosperity to all of the Wizarding World," Hopkins chuckled; "It almost sounds like a fairytale, don't you think?"

Severus' lips twisted, as he looked at him; "I can imagine why you would think that."

Hopkins laughed.

_Laughed_.

While Severus positively _reeled_ , furiously.

"And I can imagine why _you_ wouldn't, my boy."

Hopkins lifted his shoulders, in what appeared to be a shrug.

"That's the answer you came here for, Severus. In order to save the world; Regulus Black is going to have to die."

Hopkins was grinning.

Smiling as if he'd just won _big_.

And he had.

He had them.

Severus hated him.

With all of his bloody guts, with every single drop of blood in his veins, he _hated_ the smiling man before him. And he could feel his hands shaking as he leaned forward, lips lifting in a snarl.

"Go to hell."

Severus turned, swiftly, and made to leave.

"The longer you deny this newfound knowledge, Severus, the sooner we will all be writhing in it."

Severus hesitated, with his hand on the doorknob.

"By all means, save your friend. Drink wine and be merry and rest easy, tonight, knowing you let the world _burn_ to spare _yourself_ the pain of loss while the monsters and the murderers continue to wreak their havoc upon the entire wizarding world and make the rest of us _wish_ that we had been given the choice you are planning to keep from him.

Rest easy, Severus. Do.

Rest easy. And you – both of you – _burn in hell_ , right along with the rest of us."


	88. May 1996: The Fallen

The door to the basement burst open, making Regulus jump.

It slammed closed once more and it looked – for all appearances – as if no one had entered at all, though it was obviously Severus back from his encounter with Eugene, a thought that was immediately confirmed when the momentary silence was followed by the quick thud of steady footsteps heading in the direction of the door to the exit tunnels.

"Wow, hey!" Regulus quickly leapt up from where'd he been sitting, waiting on him – knowing Severus must have seen him upon his arrival – and hurried after the footsteps, "What happened?"

Severus rounded on him, suddenly visible – having yanked off the cloak – a picture of thunderous fury; "Exactly what you would expect to happen when dealing with the crazed ramblings of a lunatic, Regulus."

"What did he say?"

"What do you think?" Severus glowered at him, "There is only one thing in this world that Eugene Hopkins so dearly wishes and you – _you –_ the _fool_ that you are, would bring him here and leave the Foundation to deal with the continuing imprisonment and upkeep of a madman. Well. _Knock yourself out_ , Regulus."

Severus turned on his heel, yanking open the door to the tunnels before shaking open the cloak.

Regulus grabbed it before Severus could cover himself; "The bloodline severance. Could it work?"

He was certain he already knew the answer.

Still, Severus denied it – revealing nothing – and he yanked the cloak roughly back and – when Regulus didn't let go – pulled their faces in close, speaking lowly; "Get your head out of the clouds, Regulus."

Severus yanked the cloak free and flung it back over his head – almost knocking Regulus from his feet as he shoved by him as he vanished – the sound of his echoing footsteps fading as he stormed back down the tunnel.

* * *

"Well. Maybe he couldn't get close enough?" Malachi suggested from where he sat beside Harry on the couch in the entrance lobby, knees drawn up to lean his parchment on as he carried on writing at his side.

Harry glanced over at Malachi, giving a shrug at his suggestion, still trying to make sense of the fact that the Easter holidays had long since been and gone and yet Voldemort still remained as strong as ever – if anything, his stronghold was _increasing,_ going by the latest that Harry had managed to read in the newspapers that were managing to make it into the Foundation – when, surely, by now he ought to have been defeated.

For Snape _must have_ been able to get close enough to Voldemort during that period to make a move against him.

And yet, here they were, still, technically, at war. Even if, according to the Ministry propaganda, they had already lost, and were actually considered _rebels_ : enemies of the state, as Mr. Black called them.

Harry tore off a bit of the toast he'd been savoring since the breakfast packs had been released earlier that morning, as if eating it slowly might make it go a bit longer in staving off his hunger until the kids' dining slot came about in the afternoon.

The sound of Malachi's stomach grumbling sounded next to him but neither acknowledged it; the sound no longer providing the same amusement that it had done in the earlier days of the Foundation's rise.

Harry reluctantly finished up the last bite, leaning his head back against the couch with a sigh.

He perked up, abruptly, when he noticed Hermione approaching – with a look of intent as she looked his way – coming into the entrance lobby from the grounds.

Hermione gave him a lopsided smile – a warning that he was to be disappointed – before she took a seat on the couch beside him.

She handed over the – still blank – piece of parchment he'd given to her the night before; full of hope, when he did, that with time she just might be able to figure out what enchantment was being used to hide the contents from him.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I worked on it all night, but I couldn't even figure out what magic has been used to protect it. It's not a concealment charm I've ever come across before."

Harry's shoulders dropped, as he eyed the parchment, having been certain that – if anyone's could break the charm – it would be Hermione.

"Well. Thanks for trying, anyway."

"What is it you're expecting to find?" Hermione asked, curiously.

Harry looked at her, uncertainly; "Um. It's…" he glanced at Malachi who eyed him over the parchment.

Harry cleared his throat and shook his head, "It's nothing."

He looked back down at the parchment in his hand, intently, as if staring – as it seemed he'd been doing for _hours_ before originally handing it over – would in some way break its will and make it reveal itself.

"Look, Harry!" Grace appeared over his shoulder, leaning on the back of the couch. She held out a thorny twig with a yellow rose on the end of it; "The roses are blooming! Daddy used to say yellow was his favourite."

Harry looked at the rose with a smile; "It's pretty, Grace."

"Here, Malachi," Grace held it out to him.

Malachi glanced up from his parchment, giving her a smile, and reached to take it.

"Thanks."

Malachi grasped it – too quickly – the thorn nicking his thumb.

"Oh no! Sorry!" Grace blurted out, when she saw the blood, but Malachi just grinned at her, sticking the top of his thumb in his mouth to give it a sook as shook his head.

"It's cool, Grace," he said, around it; "Don't worry about it."

He tucked the rose into the fold of his robe – displaying it – which made Grace grin widely in turn, before she turned and hurried back to join the Learning Centre kids that were making their way into the ballroom.

"Maybe it's the same charm that protects the map?" Malachi suggested, when it was just the three of them again.

Harry shrugged, even more despondent at the thought; "Opening phrase could be anything, then. Especially since it would've been your dad who set it all up."

"Here –"

Malachi put aside the quill and parchment that was on his lap, and reached for it, Harry handing it over without objection.

Malachi made to lift his wand – swapping the hands which were holding the parchment – and, when he did, the blood that was still trickling a little from his thumb smeared the corner.

And, when it did, it immediately spread like a swirl of ink over the page – _becoming_ ink, even – and the charm protecting the parchment broke, revealing itself to them.

Harry stared at it.

Hermione's eyes were like saucers, as amazed as Harry felt, reading aloud the words that were suddenly revealed to them; "How to identify a sentient horcrux –"

Harry quickly snatched it back from Malachi, eager to read what was written.

Sentient horcruxes.

It took a moment for him to even digest the words before him, but when he finally did it confirmed what he had suspected – ever since seeing the sketch of the snake in Mr. Black's office – that whatever a horcrux was, it in some way connected him to Voldemort.

Harry's eyes darted over the words.

_Possessions…_

_Shared abilities…_

_Privy to one another's emotions…_

_A shared consciousness…_

_A connection that will only strengthen as time goes on._

"Horcruxes," Hermione said, the word almost experimental on her tongue – entirely unaware of the sinking feeling in Harry's gut, as he turned the parchment over, looking for more and finding nothing – before she turned to him; "I'm sure I overheard some of the Foundation researchers discussing them last week."

Harry looked at her, sharply.

"You know what a horcrux is?"

She shook her head.

"Well, no. I just overheard it. But…I'm sure it's a project your mum's working on. Project Gryffith."

Harry swallowed, feeling the twist in his gut intensifying at Hermione's words – that his mum was somehow involved, which really only confirmed how dire this must actually be if they were _all_ in on it – before he cleared his throat; "Oh. Right. I…I'll ask her about it, then."

Hermione smiled, though she looked a bit sceptical, and then she spotted Ron trying to get her attention, indicating at the timepiece as if they had somewhere to be.

"Oh. Ron and I have that workshop – I hope your mum can help you, Harry," she said, as Harry nodded – giving nothing away – before she got to her feet, leaving him and Malachi alone.

Harry turned when she was out of earshot, noticing Malachi reading through the information – with far more deliberation and calmness than Harry had done – before he met Harry's eyes.

"It – um – looks like it's something to do with him," Malachi said, with what Harry quickly realized was _forced_ calmness, rather than actual calmness, "Like you thought."

Harry nodded, eyes going back to the parchment, considering the fact of it for a minute.

That the mind-link he shared – the nightmares and the possessions, the parseltongue and the visions – they were all because of this connection, this horcrux; and, yet, Harry still didn't know enough to truly understand what it – what _he –_ was to Voldemort. Only, from the look on Snape's face as he'd spoken the words to Mr. Black, that it was bad.

Well.

Harry cleared his throat, steadying his unravelling nerves; determined, more than ever, to find out more.

_Now._

"You heard Hermione, right? My mum's project. We need to get down to the labs."

Malachi looked uneasy – just as uneasy as Harry felt – but he nodded, rolling up the parchment and handing it back to Harry before the two of them got to their feet.

* * *

"Would it work?"

Dumbledore's portrait stared back at him, with an expression as serene as ever.

"Severus, my boy, you forget, that I am but a portrait," the old Headmaster said, cryptically, making Severus roll his eyes; "I know only what Albus Dumbledore – myself, indeed – sought to imbed within the portrait charm prior to our demise. Blood magic is not a branch by which I am particularly familiar."

"Well, knowing what you know of Albus Dumbledore – _yourself_ –" Severus said, impatiently, " – and whatever knowledge he did leave you with, do you believe that Hopkins' solution is a plan that would work?"

Dumbledore's portrait regarded him with – almost – sympathy before the old man raised his eyebrows.

"I think you already know the answer, Severus. Otherwise you wouldn't be asking questions."

Severus swallowed, averting his eyes.

The statement both true and entirely unwelcome.

That Hopkins' solution made perfect sense.

That they could, indeed, evoke the ancestral magic that Regulus had always been so adamant be utilized – knowing that it would be successful – and rid the Wizarding World of the Dark Lord.

For a time, so long as Harry remained a horcrux.

For always, should they manage to eliminate it.

But then…

Severus turned, heading to his – the Headmaster's – desk and took a seat, as he considered the implications.

"If we were to evoke this magic…" Severus began, eyes on the desk; "- at the end of it; Regulus would be dead – sacrificed to enact it. And Harry would be cursed – unable to, ever again, practice magic."

There was a silence in the office.

The weight of the decision before them hanging heavy within the room.

"And the alternative, Severus?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

At the unspoken accusation in the old man's tone.

Everlasting war and endless suffering.

"It always was your weakness, my boy, though you do try to pretend that you have none."

Severus drew in a breath as he met Dumbledore's eyes once more.

"Love. And try as you might for those whom you love, it is a hard burden to bear when you realise that you cannot save everyone."

Severus shook his head, slowly.

"It is not an option."

Suddenly – entirely unexpectedly – the Dark Mark seared hot and deep in his arm, making him flinch at the intensity – a summons, a battle cry – that made Severus frown before he quickly got to his feet and headed from the office.

* * *

Lily crept along the boundaries of the Foundation – Kingsley leading the way, while Tonks took up the rear – and she heard the frightened voice of the little girl behind them.

"Will we be safe here, Mummy?"

"Yes, Honey," the woman – the muggleborn – whose family they'd managed to find while they were out gathering supplies assured her daughter.

"You said that last time," her son – a teenager, no older than Harry – spoke up, almost accusingly; "Now Dad's gone –"

"Shut up, Callum," the daughter – older than both of them – hissed.

"Alright, the tunnels over there," Lily turned to them, at Kingsley nod, "Can you see them?"

They all nodded, the small group they had managed to gather, the location having been spoken already, revealing the Foundation's whereabouts so that they could be brought to safety.

"All clear. Right. Let's go," Tonks said, as they crept out from the cover of the trees – ready to make the short distance to the tunnels – but, as they did, a spell fired out, halting them.

"Get back, get down!" Kingsley ordered the people they'd brought with them, as Death Eaters quickly engaged them.

* * *

"This is my mum's one; see," Harry said, as he nodded at the plaque upon the door; at the names that had been listed upon it.

_Project Gryffith._

_Cornelia Heart.  
Lily Potter.  
Mortimer Littlewood.  
Quinton Gold._

Malachi started to nod – to speak – but Harry put his hand on the door and pushed it open – their assigned security taking up their usual guarding stances at either side of the door without question – and he headed inside, Malachi close on his heels.

"There must be something – " Harry began.

"Oh! Hello there!" a cheerful voice greeted them, making them both turn abruptly in its direction.

Malachi immediately smiled; "Hi, Healer Heart."

"Ah, Mr. Black," she smiled, fondly, at him as she reached them, putting a hand on his shoulder; "What brings the boss' son down here, hm? Not sent down to have a good old spy on the employees I hope."

Malachi grinned.

"My dad would never do that to _you,_ Healer Heart. Can't say the same for everyone else, though."

Healer Heart laughed, giving a nod, before her eyes went to Harry; "You must be Lily's boy."

Harry nodded, smiling; "Yeah. Harry –" he held out a hand, "Potter."

She shook it; "It's a pleasure to meet you. So, if it wasn't your father, then what brings you two boys into my lab?"

"My mum," Harry said, smoothly, "She was telling me about this project – um – Gryffith? And I was interested. So, she said we could come down and read some of the stuff about it."

Malachi was clearly fighting both a frown and a smirk of amusement, at how easily Harry had mustered up the lie, while Healer Heart's eyebrows lifted in obvious surprise.

"Oh. Well. It is rather _advanced_ for youngsters such as yourselves…" she said, before her expression relaxed and she smiled, "Though I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. Your mother really is one of our most gifted researchers."

Harry smiled, feeling proud, all of a sudden; "Yeah. Yeah, she's the best."

"Well, if you're taking an interest in her field so young, the world just better prepare itself that her son may just be following in her footsteps," she laughed, heartily, before she nodded at one of the benches; "That's your mother's bench over there."

Harry grinned, delighted that his blabbing had actually worked, and shared a quick look with Malachi; "Thanks, Healer Heart."

She simply nodded, and the two of them headed over.

"That was easy," Malachi whispered in his ear when they were out of earshot, Healer Heart heading into one of the cupboards up at the front of the room.

Harry walked almost with a bounce – delighted and more than a little proud himself, impressed that he'd managed to lie so smoothly – and the two of them reached his mum's bench.

"Okay, so –" Harry shrugged.

He reached down, grabbing a tray and pulled it out first, putting it up on the top of the bench; unable to help but get a smile when he noticed that all of these were fully visible – no attempts to conceal the contents at all – and he pulled out the first roll of parchment, handing some over to Malachi.

"Okay," Harry said again, as he began reading the first one; "This one's about…stitching torn and damaged souls back together or something."

Harry frowned – that didn't sound good – and he shared a look with Malachi, who turned back to his own, reading it carefully before he told Harry what he had.

"Um…this says that – acts of great evil – like murder – are what cause the souls to be damaged," Malachi shrugged; "Inhumane acts."

Harry frowned, leaning closer; "Does it say anything about horcruxes?"

Malachi shook his head.

Harry reached for the next one in the pile – A Story of Souls – his frown deepening as he looked through it; "This one's about souls too. About how if the soul is so damaged it can…split off, accidentally, and bind to another which would tether a person to –" Harry met Malachi's eyes; "A fate worse than death; and prevent them moving on to the afterlife."

Harry started to feel uneasy then as his eyes skimmed the parchments in front of him – the word _'soul'_ seeming to be everywhere - and he felt a sinking feeling in his gut, as Malachi lifted another, carrying on reading.

Harry's eyes went back to the Story of Souls parchment, eyes frantically moving over the text – seeking the word horcrux – but finding none but, still, it didn't feel irrelevant. These words before him,

Tethered.

Snape had used that word, once. Well. _Un_ tethered; when they'd been talking about his nightmares.

When Harry had felt like _he_ had been moving back and forth – pulled this way and that between himself and Voldemort and the snake – untethered, himself, to his own body.

Harry drew in a breath as things slowly started to click into place; Harry's heart beating fast as it all came to him.

Shared consciousnesses and visions and mind links and abilities and _souls_ and –

"Here, horcruxes!" Malachi suddenly said, hand quickly reaching for some parchments that were still in the tray and he lifted it up, eyes quickly skimming it; "Look, it says here…"

Malachi's voice trailed off.

His friend's eyes narrowed in concentration – in consternation, even – as he took in each word before him.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

"What does it say?"

Malachi stared at the parchment – but his eyes weren't moving, now, no longer reading – and, when he didn't make a move to say anything, Harry reached and took the parchment from his hands and – only then – did Malachi meet his eyes.

With a look that told him that what he was thinking – dreading – was probably right.

Harry cleared his throat, reading the words before him with far more calmness than he felt.

"A being might _intentionally_ bind themselves to life by splitting their soul in organized ritual – during which they would imbed the fragment of their soul into a vessel – and, in doing so, anchor themselves to life until a full resurrect…" Harry hesitated, as flashes came back to him – flashes of his blood flowing from his palm and a Death Eater's hand falling into a cauldron and Voldemort rising and _Snape_ – before he read on; " – resurrection ritual can be performed. Returning the being to life. The vessel containing the fragment of soul better known by the term in Black Magic as…a horcrux."

Harry swallowed – tried to – but it caught a bit, and his voice became quieter, almost hoarse, as he finished reading.

"So long as the horcrux remains undamaged beyond magical repair…the being from where the soul originated may never perish."

A heavy silence fell upon them.

Harry's mind racing, now, in time with his heart as he tried to make sense of the words.

It didn't take long.

"Maybe…maybe you heard wrong," Malachi said, quietly – but with a desperation in his voice that Harry had never heard before – before he added, "It doesn't make any sense –"

Harry got a humourless smile, as he shook his head.

"It makes perfect sense," Harry murmured.

When Malachi said nothing, Harry met his eyes.

And he knew Malachi it knew it too.

Suddenly, _everything_ made sense.

The visions and the nightmares.

The fact that Snape hadn't made any move against Voldemort yet.

The prophecy that said one must die by the hand of the other…

Harry released a breath as he realized the truth; it coming heavy upon him.

What it truly meant. It had never meant what he'd thought it did – ridiculous as he'd always considered it, anyway – no.

Harry wasn't the one who was supposed to kill Voldemort.

How could he, after all.

No.

It was simple.

Easy.

For them to defeat Voldemort, Harry was supposed to die.

He had to die.

It took a second for him to come back to himself – to realise his hands were shaking as he held the parchment that had revealed the truth to him – and his vision blurred, then, as he still struggled to understand it.

Because that wasn't right.

He wasn't, really, supposed to _die;_ not when they'd all fought so hard for…

"Harry?"

Malachi stepped in closer to him and Harry met his eyes.

Malachi's eyes glimmered too, the same as Harry knew his own did, and there was an uncertainty in his friend's expression, like he had no idea what to say.

Harry got that.

He didn't know what to say, either.

Didn't know, even, what to _think_.

"Um."

His voice came out in a shudder – and he felt _afraid_ then and he closed his eyes – and then he felt Malachi's arms hug him tight.

Harry leaned on him, gratefully, releasing a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

"It's okay, Harry," Malachi said, quietly; "They're gonna fix it."

Harry shook his head, eyes closed.

Because, much as he _wanted_ to believe that; to follow dreams and chase bloody rainbows he knew, he _knew_ that that's all they'd be doing.

And he felt – for the first time in months – the prickle of a consciousness that wasn't his own in the back of his mind that he quickly slammed down on; pulling up his occlumency barriers, just as Snape had shown him to.

But, even then, as he did – keeping him out – Harry knew there was no escaping him.

Voldemort.

Not for anyone.

Not so long as he lived.

* * *

Regulus twirled the quill between his fingers, absentmindedly, as his head dropped back to lean against the headrest of the chair in his office.

His mind lost in memories and regrets of times long since passed – that, sometimes, felt only yesterday – as flashes of Andromeda and Narcissa and Sirius and Evelyn; Anchor Ridge and Voldemort and Eugene Hopkins passed by this mind.

He knew, now, not to linger too long in there.

To do so served no one.

Neither those who were lost, nor those who remained behind; who needed him to pull himself together on this – for Severus clearly was unwilling to be of any help – and he tossed the quill onto his desk, getting to his feet.

Fully intending to go down to the labs and speak with Hopkins himself, _now_ – he surely _knew_ something, judging by Severus' over-the-top exit that morning – but, as Regulus made his way around the desk, the door to his office opened – a hasty knock made as it moved inwards – and he immediately smiled at seeing who it was.

All the dark thoughts driven away by the sight of his wife, who waddled – well into her third trimester now – into the room with a grin.

"Ah. Well _this_ is a pleasant surprise," Regulus said, as he approached, immediately taking her into his arms.

"Oh really?" Julia raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips as she held up a slip of parchment – one he'd sent down earlier that afternoon – a request she come to him at her earliest convenience; "Expected me to ignore this, did you?"

Regulus chuckled, pressing his lips to hers, before saying; "I suppose I'm always just knocked off my feet to see you."

Julia rolled his eyes, laughing and shaking her head; "I don't have long. Malachi didn't come down this afternoon."

Regulus frowned, immediately concerned.

"Is he alright?"

She nodded; "Yes, he's fine. He sent a message, don't worry. Tied up with a project, or something, with Harry, he said."

Regulus glanced at the door, a frown still lingering on his brow, because shirking a responsibility to spend time with a friend wasn't his son, not at all. And he was immediately certain that – for Malachi to do so – something must be wrong.

"What?" Julia looked at him, carefully, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts.

Regulus cleared his throat, shaking his head and giving her a smile – making a mental note to catch up with Malachi at the next available opportunity – and focused on the _current_ problems at hand, the reason he'd asked Julia here in the first place.

The blood wards.

Or, rather, the lack of them.

"Now, dear," he began – with a pet name and a grin that made her chuckle and eye him, suspiciously – he tucked her hair behind her ear; "I know you're not going to like this."

"Ah."

"Yeah," he nodded; "I was wondering how you'd feel about going back to the house. With Malachi. Tonight."

"Hm. For the night?" she asked, her eyes already revealing she knew his answer.

He shook his head.

"No. No. For a while."

"And obviously you wouldn't be joining us."

Regulus' hand slipped from where it had been caressing her cheek, down to her shoulder, as she went on – not needing to wait for his answer, for she already knew.

"What about the Healing Unit?"

"We have other Healers –"

"Researchers –"

"Qualified –" Regulus tapped her on the nose with his finger, making her serious expression become a smile, " – healers, who, quite frankly, could do with brushing up on their skills at practicing healing, right now."

Regulus glanced down, his hand going to her stomach with an impish grin when he felt the baby move beneath it; "Besides, it won't be long until this little one makes their appearance and, when that happens, I would have insisted that you spend _at least_ the next month recovering in bed, as it is. This only brings forward the timetable a bit."

"Oh, really; and, speaking of which, is our baby supposed to be delivered into the world by their big brother? He and I hadn't quite reached that tutorial yet, I'm afraid."

Regulus grinned, shaking his head; "No. No, of course not. Malachi will have _assistants_ ; I was hoping Draco –"

Julia laughed.

" – of course, and Harry and Grace– assuming Lily can be convinced – would accompany you. You'd never be lonely in that tiny little house, I'll make sure of that."

"Oh, we certainly wouldn't be that," Julia conceded, with a nod.

A smile still played on her lips – but the sparkle in her eyes was gone – and he knew, then, that she would agree with him. That she'd do as he asked and go.

Regulus drew in a breath, arms going back around her to draw her closer – as close as he could with the baby between them – and said, more seriously; "Hopkins won't help us. I'm going to go down there in a little while but…I don't like our chances. And with the Fidelius situation as it is, the Foundation isn't safe anymore. Even with the wards in place, the price on the kids' heads are just –"

He didn't need to go on – the look in his wife's eyes enough to tell him that she understood – and she nodded.

Regulus smiled.

"We'll set up another communication box," he told her, before nodding at the box already on his desk; "Operated by blood, just like that one, so that you and I can contact one another whenever we need to and I'll send through food and information and anything else that you'd all need –"

"Yeah," Julia said, before she drew in a breath and nodded; "Yeah. It sounds perfect, Regulus. You deal with that and I will go finish up –"

"Julia," Regulus interrupted her – a heaviness settling upon him, now that she'd agreed to go – and he touched his forehead to hers; "I _will_ be there, when our baby makes their grand debut. I promise."

Julia smiled.

He raised an eyebrow, smiling in turn; "I wouldn't miss that for the world."

Julia's eyes flickered between eyes – brown eyes full of adoration – before she leaned in, kissing him soundly.

Regulus drew her closer, returning her affections.

It was, of course, not a goodbye kiss – they would see one another again before the day was through – but it certainly felt like one; she giving it all in that single moment and so he did too, making sure she knew it.

How much he loved her.

And he could have gone on and on, he was quite certain, right there in his office but it seemed not to be, for they were interrupted then.

A bright, silvery light filling the room that had been aglow with the dim light of dusk – almost making them flinch as they drew back from one another – as the familiar silver doe swept before them.

Regulus felt a jolt, immediately – but he wasn't certain if it were of gladness that Severus had returned, or of concern, for Severus would never send a Patronus before nightfall – and then it spoke with Severus' voice.

Something it rarely did, when entering the Foundation's boundaries.

One simple, dreadful word.

" _Run_."

There was a second of stillness – as if all hung on a moment – before, as if on cue, a thunderous roar sounded beyond the windows of his office.

And they turned, just in time to catch it.

The walls and windows of the Tonks Facility suddenly blasting out – hit by an explosion – as the sight of Death Eaters apparating into the grounds and dementors swooping down from the skies met their eyes.

* * *

The screech of sirens immediately filled the room.

Telling them what they could already see with their very own eyes.

Regulus spun around, grabbing Julia by the arm; "Come on."

He flicked his wand as he pulled her around the desk – sending the chair flying across the room – before he reached down, wasting no time this time, and threw aside the rug that covered the trapdoor that led down to the tunnels.

Too late.

The windows to his office smashed inwards – the intruding Death Eaters knowing exactly where he'd be – and two of them landed in the room; wands drawn and ready for combat.

Regulus flung up a shield charm as he and Julia stumbled back – barely in time to avoid a hit – before he was quickly engaged.

A dementor swept in through the broken window – a deathly cold falling upon all in the room – and he felt that familiar, sinking feeling of hopelessness shuddering through him, as he fired a spell at his opponent.

The door to the office burst open behind him – his heart skipping a beat at the sound, with the immediate, sinking dread that they were surrounded – before, suddenly, he found himself flanked by the two security personnel – his own and Julia's – who joined him where he stood, flashes of light firing forth from their wands at the Death Eaters.

Regulus recognized them from their masks.

Barty.

Yaxley.

A bright, silverly light suddenly filled the room, before a silver badger – Julia's – flew swiftly towards the dementor, chasing it and the heavy weight of hopelessness from the room.

A Death Eater fell – bound – while the other was pushed back but that wouldn't last long.

Regulus could see them – more of them – those that weren't flooding the ballroom and the entrance lobby, along with the aurors and dementors, striding towards the broken windows and the door of his office that led out onto the grounds.

Regulus fired another spell – pushing the last one back further – before he grabbed Julia by the arm – just as another two dementors swept into the office – blocking the exit tunnel he'd initially planned to go for – and he turned, instead, and ran, pulling her out into the corridor.

It was chaos.

The corridor was filled with the sounds of screams and thudding footsteps; that cold, bleak chill that filled the air as dementors swooped down, eager to suck the souls from whomever they could find within their clutches.

The bright flashes of spells – blue, and yellow, and orange, and purple – fired up and down the corridors, people ducking out of the way as they ran – in both directions – seeking cover.

Regulus turned to Julia, almost knocked from his feet by those still running by them when they stopped, as they security personnel stumbled out from his office some distance behind them – eyes seeking and coming to them.

"Malachi. Did he say where they are?"

"The labs."

* * *

The wail of the sirens filled the lab.

Harry and Malachi sprung apart.

Harry very nearly reached up to cover his ears at the unexpected screech – bewildered and still reeling at what they'd just discovered about the horcrux; about _him_ – while Malachi stumbled out from behind the bench, eyes on the door.

It burst open, suddenly, and they flinched – hands instinctively going to their wands – but it was just their security personnel who hurried up to them.

"Mr. Black; we need to evacuate at once –"

"What's happening?" Malachi said, as he stepped towards him, uncertainly – Harry on his heels – even though they both had a fairly good idea what was going on; "My dad –"

"Has us briefed on the evacuation procedures," the man said, gruffly, grasping Malachi by the arm and hauling him forward just as Healer Heart hurried out of the cupboard she had gone into on Harry and Malachi's arrival; "Come with us, Ma'am."

They walked, briskly, out into the corridors of the labs and – when they did – Harry could hear it, faintly, above them – the thudding footsteps and the screaming and the smashing and the sobbing; the obvious sounds of battle – and he faltered in his steps.

"Wait, my sister –"

"Will be evacuating with the others. If she can."

"If she _can_ ; she's _seven!"_

"Our orders are clear, Mr. Potter; we are each assigned to the safety of one."

"I'm _not_ leaving without my sister!"

It all felt eerily familiar – far too close to what happened before, the last time the Foundation had been attacked, except this time he _knew_ that Grace was here – and Harry started to step away – to just go and find her – only to feel his arm grabbed tightly by his own guard, the man continuing swiftly in his steps, in time with the others.

"Let go of me!"

Harry yanked back against him, but the footsteps carried on briskly, while Harry struggled – telling them over and over to _let him go_ – until, suddenly, he _was_ released just as a flash of yellow light flew towards them, only just deflected in time and hitting the wall a few meters away.

Another followed.

And then another.

"Boys, run!" Cornelia Heart's voice called, as she drew her wand, before, suddenly, three Death Eaters could be seen up ahead.

Harry quickly drew his wand – Malachi, too – as the Death Eaters quickly advanced on them.

* * *

Severus strode across the threshold of the main doors to the Foundation – flanked on either side by Amycus and Alecto Carrow – three of the last to arrive.

His eyes sought the ballroom – where he knew the children of the Learning Centre currently took their lessons – before he glanced in the direction of the grounds, knowing what the evacuation procedure would be for them.

That, under normal circumstances, they'd be ushered outdoors and disapparated to safety once reaching the perimeter.

But – with the wards torn down with the fall of the Ministry – the compromise of the Fidelius meant the grounds were, now, almost entirely inaccessible.

The anti-apparation enchantments cast over the building ineffective outwith it and, so, Death Eaters and aurors apparated in, preventing the escaping people within.

Severus swallowed at the thought, his mind on Grace – for Harry was far more able to protect himself, than his sister – as the Carrows stepped away from him, engaging in combat with the Order members who'd arrived, along with the Foundation staff, who were, surprisingly, putting up a good fight, Moody's prior insistence that they be trained proving beneficial.

Severus didn't engage them. Masked, his old colleagues had no idea who he was.

Instead, headed straight in the direction of the ballroom, parrying away any attempts at attack that were made his way.

A dementor swooped by him – two – and the air that was already heavy – unbearably cold – seemed to invade his chest, then, making it hard to breathe; but he pushed on by – fighting the instinct to cast a Patronus – and headed across the threshold into the ballroom.

There were more fighters in here – but many were simply running – and Severus caught sight of red hair, huddled in the corner, and he felt a surge of relief come over him when he noticed her – even if it seemed she had, somehow, become separated from the other children – and the sight of only her hair and knowing she was so within reach warmed the chill that had threatened to overwhelm him just moments before.

Severus advanced on her without hesitation, in what he hoped was as menacing a manner as possible, mustering up as much as he could.

Knowing, as he did, that he'd have to push it down, any instinctual desire he felt to protect and reassure her – at least out here, in the open – when he was faced with his daughter's terror and resistance.

Severus noticed, as he drew nearer, that she was not alone where she cowered behind the piano; a small group of four huddled behind it, together.

Draco Malfoy stood from the small huddle when he noticed him coming, wand held tight in his hand.

Severus ignored him – parried the pathetic attempt at combat with ease – and reached down as soon as he was close enough, seizing Grace by the arm and pulling her to her feet, roughly.

"No!" Daphne Greengrass sprung up, then, and Severus – aware of the eyes of his Death Eater comrades upon him – fired a spell, stunning her, and she immediately hit the ground once more, next to her sister.

"No, no!" Grace pulled away from him – the look on her face belying her expected terror – and his little girl twisted and turned, in her attempt to free herself, forcing him to hold on tighter; "Let me go! Help! Help! _Harry_!"

Her voice ended on a sob, calling for her brother.

Severus flung her up over his shoulder, eyes meeting Draco's through the slits of his mask that the boy would surely recognize.

And he _did_ , getting a look, then, of dawning understanding – far too dangerous an understanding for Severus to feel comfortable with – as Draco lowered his wand, slightly.

There was no way Severus could get away with taking all of them.

Severus quickly glanced in the direction of those engaged in combat, the other Death Eaters in the room – ensuring no eyes were upon them in that moment, as Grace continued to scream and beat against his back; " _Harry! Harry!" –_ and then he reached into his robe, pulling out the fabric he felt within them, and – in one swift movement, he tossed the Invisibility Cloak onto the floor as turned on his heel, striding away with his daughter still flung over his shoulder.

His little girl carried on screaming and scratching and biting at him – relentlessly – becoming more and more fierce with each step he took and drawing _far_ too much attention for either of their own good.

"Going somewhere, Severus?"

Severus pulled up short as he reached the doorway that led back out into the lobby, coming face to face with Lucius.

Lucius' smirked, looking at Grace in obvious amusement, where she still thrashed about when she was suspended over his shoulder.

"A rare prize for the Dark Lord, wouldn't you agree, Lucius?" Severus replied, smoothly – needlessly – while Lucius raised an eyebrow, before he glanced into the ballroom – his own eyes searching, no doubt for his own child – and when Severus followed his gaze, he could see that the group behind the piano were no longer visible.

Hidden, now, beneath the cloak.

"Let me go!" Grace screamed again, fists hammering and nails scratching at his back; " _Harry_!"

"Well, you certainly appear to have your hands full with that one," Lucius remarked, standing aside; "Good luck."

Severus eyed him – indulging himself for a moment that time was not of the essence – before he swept by him and out of the ballroom, while Grace continued to fight against him, furiously, as they departed.

* * *

"Down here," Regulus hurriedly pulled Julia along by the hand when they finally managed to get down the stairs into the labs – them running _down_ , while others ran _up_ – their Security Personnel still marching along at their sides.

Regulus nodded to them when they reached the doors of the basement; "Malachi, find him; he'll be with Harry Potter. I'll meet you both with them back here –"

He didn't wait on them affirming the statement, just quickly opened the door to the basement and pulled Julia inside.

"Regulus –"

"You'll go on ahead," Regulus insisted, before she could make any sort of protest, as he hurried them up to the door to the exit tunnels; "You'll be able to apparate once you're out the other side now that the Fidelius is broken; go back to the house and we'll come –"

Regulus was silence by the sound of low laughter behind them, just as he pulled open the door to the tunnels.

The two of them quickly looked in the direction of the laugh – the familiar, unwelcome timbre that he remembered from years long passed – and, even after all this time and all that had happened, despite the shadows and the hatred that was etched into the once warm and jovial face, Regulus recognized him.

Eugene Hopkins.

Somehow, out of his confines, in the chaos that had befallen.

Regulus swallowed, hand tightening on his wand; "Eugene."

Eugene stepped forward, out of the shadows, glinting eyes meeting his.

"Hello Regulus."

Eugene tilted his head to the side, getting a smile – that looked far too sinister – as he took in Julia at his side; "And you must be the wife. Hm. The muggleborn who took a Death Eater for a husband."

His tone dripped with a disgust – with a venomousness – that made Regulus immediately step in front of her.

Julia's chin lifted, staring his old mentor down.

"Eugene," Regulus said, in a tone he hoped would appeal to reason; "The defences of the Foundation have been breached. We need to leave."

Eugene eyed him, that eerie smile still on his face.

"I follow you nowhere, Regulus Black."

The older man twirled his wand, slowly, between his fingers.

"I must say the guards you instated at my door were somewhat of an easy fight –" his lips twitched, " – well; if that's the best that the _Order of the Phoenix_ can do…"

His statement tapered off; hanging in the air.

There was a second where nothing happened.

And then a spell fired forth – Regulus deflecting it – followed by another and then another – a foolish fight in the middle of a much bigger battle – and Regulus stepped forward, engaging him.

"Julia, _go_."

Regulus was certain she wouldn't – though he had no opportunity to check – for Eugene engaged him with the same ferocity, if not more so, that the Death Eaters had in his office and he could not afford to be distracted – to look away – even for a second, as spell after spell after spell fired forth between them.

Eugene kept him on the defensive – manic hatred and vengeance driving the other man on, while Regulus sought to protect – until Regulus stumbled back, almost floored by the force of the next that Eugene fired his way, and then another spell shot past him – intentionally – and Regulus heard a thud as something – someone – _Julia_ fell to the floor behind him.

Regulus spun around, losing all sense of self-preservation – of combat – at the realization that she'd been hit.

Julia lay on the floor on her back, brown eyes open – _seeing_ still, alive – but with a furrow on her brow and a tension in her expression, as she trembled and gasped for breath.

"NO!"

Regulus hurried to her, skidding to his knees at her side; "No. _No_. Julia –"

His hands shook as he reached for her, one hand to her stomach – to the baby he felt still moving – and to her face, the skin of which became colder and colder beneath his fingers with each second that passed.

Regulus glanced down, panic quickly setting in when he could see the veins of her wrist blacken – blackened lines following suit in a slow, steady creep up her arm – and he leaned closer to her.

"Julia."

Her eyes found his.

Still seeing him.

Still there.

But there was an agonized look in her eyes.

Regulus swallowed, his heart constricting, his voice a whisper; "What did you do to her?"

There was a low laugh behind him.

"Now, Regulus. You should be thanking me –"

Regulus kept his eyes on Julia – his back to Hopkins – with his hand on her face, upon the icy cold skin beneath his fingers, that he stroked, gently, helplessly; willing the pain – the curse – away.

" – After all, the last thing you need right now is something to _live_ for."

Regulus closed his eyes, leaning in closer, and touched his forehead to hers.

"Don't worry, Pet –" Eugene said, addressing Julia who twitched beneath Regulus' hands from where he stood over Regulus' shoulder, in a tone that made Regulus' blood suddenly boil, " – it won't last long."

Regulus' jaw clenched, the hand that had been upon her stomach reaching for his wand, but – just as he grasped it, knuckles white beneath his grip, a flash of light filled the basement – a spell shot forth from the opening of the tunnels – and Lily ran into the room, Dora close on her heels.

The two of them engaging Eugene, immediately, while Regulus, instead of attacking, quickly set about doing whatever he could – the little field healing he knew – in an attempt to stay whatever curse Eugene had placed upon his wife.

"Julia. Julia, hey –" Regulus implored her to look at him, as he cast a warming charm – futilely, for her cheek beneath his palm remained cold as ice – while the flashes of light and cries of combat sounded out behind him, Lily and Dora continuing to duel Eugene, two-to-one, in the basement.

With a ferociousness that would surely alert all above to their presence.

"Stay with me," Regulus said, desperately, when Julia's eyes glazed; "Hey."

There was a roar behind him – full of fierceness – and only then did Regulus turn to look – briefly – seeing Dora fighting Eugene, mercilessly – the man who'd killed her mother – with her face drawn in determination.

Regulus turned back to Julia, quickly casting the other charms he knew – to no avail – and he could feel his panic intensifying, then, as she started to shiver, uncontrollably.

"Regulus –" her voice was hoarse, barely heard.

Regulus leaned in closer, stroking her cheek; "Shh. Don't try to talk. Just breathe. Alright?"

He heard the grunts and cries and roars and zaps of combat intensifying, but his eyes were all for his wife, noticing the way her breathing shallowed, her eyes becoming more unfocused.

"Julia," he touched her forehead, his voice a murmur - choked - but no less fierce than the fight going on behind them; "Listen to me _. Do not_ stop breathing. Do you hear me? Just breathe."

There was a thud behind him.

And then, suddenly, Lily skidded to his side as Dora hurried from the room; "What happened?"

"I don't know," he moved aside, giving her room; "He hit her with something."

Lily quickly set about casting charms and healing enchantments – far beyond anything Regulus knew – and he felt a little surge of hope as he glanced at her, at the quick work she made of it, all that she knew that may help and he leaned in closer, stroking Julia's hair.

"Lily's here. You're gonna be fine, see."

"Regulus."

Her voice was quiet – still hoarse – and far too weak.

Suddenly, a glow emitted from the bump of her stomach, alarming him and making Regulus look at Lily, sharply.

"What is that?"

"It's protecting the baby," Lily said, leaning up and speaking to Julia; "Honey. I'm going to have to put you in stasis for this, alright?"

Julia's chin inclined ever-so-slightly – understanding what Lily was telling her, even if Regulus didn't – and then her eyes drifted closed, her breathing shallowing further.

"Julia –" he gripped her, gasping out her name.

"It's alright, Regulus," Lily put a hand on his arm, reassuring him; "I've slowed it down, whatever it was. She's under, until we can get her to St. Mungo's; but we need to get her there as soon as possible –"

"Malachi –" Regulus choked out, eyes going in the direction of the door; "He's with Harry –"

"You go," Lily told him, her eyes reflecting the same tormented panic as he felt; "I have to stay with her to maintain the charm."

Regulus nodded, eyes going back to Julia, before he drew in a breath and – after a brief touch of his lips to her icy-cold forehead – he sprung to his feet and hurried from the room.

Past the still, dead form of Eugene Hopkins that lay on the floor.

* * *

Grace screamed and screamed, kicked and punched and scratched – just as Harry and her mummy had told her to do, if anyone ever tried to take her – and there was a smash to the side of her – a vase – that she realized she'd done with magic as the man walked down the corridor with her still hanging upside down over his shoulder.

She willed it to happen again – to smash something with magic – but nothing happened, so she just started yelling again, instead, hoping someone – a friend – would hear her.

"Help me! Help me!" she screamed, while other people's footsteps walked by her – nothelping, or _caring_ that she was being taken away – and she sobbed, then, frightened when she caught sight of the scary masks of the people who'd passed them.

"Harry! Harry!" she called, pleadingly.

The man's steps got faster and she felt sick from behind upside down for so long – starting to feel dizzy – and then they burst into a small room – a cupboard, Grace realized, and the man closed the door before he put her back on her feet as he knelt down in front of her.

"Help! Help" she scratched at his face – at the hard, silver mask he wore – and punched at his throat and his shoulders and his chest, and then he reached up, swishing his wand – making her flinch in fright – and then she saw his face.

Grace stilled, staring at the man in front of her.

At a man she _knew_.

"Professor Snape?" she whispered, uncertainly; "You…you're here."

He nodded, giving her a small smile.

"I am. I'm here to protect you, Grace."

Grace eyed him, still unsure.

"Why are you dressed like the bad people?"

Professor Snape's eyes glanced down – as if just noticing his robes for the first time – before he met her gaze, with a look that was warm and gave her that same safe feeling she always got when she looked into his eyes before he said; "It's pretend. So that the bad people are unable to notice me."

Grace considered his words.

That seemed like a good plan.

"Where are you taking me?"

Grace felt his hand on her arm squeeze slightly and she felt a flutter of warmth in her tummy, even before he said the word.

"Home."

Grace swallowed, eyes flickering back and forth between his, searchingly.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow; "Do you trust me, Miss Potter?"

Grace hesitated.

But only for a second.

And then she nodded, slowly, knowing for sure that she did.

Professor Snape smiled, his hand caressing her cheek; "Good. Then I need you to do as I say. I need you to allow me to take you to the exit – and while I do, you must pretend that you don't want to come with me – but you also _must not_ run away. Do you understand?"

Grace smiled, before she nodded again, more surely this time.

"Alright," Professor Snape said.

He got back to his feet, before he reached out and took her by the top of the arm – gently this time – before he opened the door to the cupboard, pulling her back out.

And once outside, Professor Snape marched down the corridor, quickly.

So fast Grace struggled to keep up.

* * *

Harry stumbled out of the door that led to the side staircase leading to the tunnels, Malachi on his heels – but he wasn't the only one – Healer Heart and the two guards stumbling out, as well, still fighting off the Death Eaters that pursed them, having chasing them the length of the lab corridors below.

Harry faltered, as they hurried down the hallway of the office corridors, his eyes taken in the fallen that they passed.

People scattered here and there, unmoving – not breathing – and Harry felt his heart constrict at the sight and his breathing become unsteady, as they carried on.

At the reality of war and all that those coming into the Foundation had been saying about what had been happening beyond the wall.

Harry and Malachi stopped at the swinging doors that would lead out into the entrance lobby.

He looked through the small window of the door – Malachi, too – while they heard the guards and Healer Heart still fighting and there were _more_ out there; more dead on the ground and there were Death Eaters engaging those that hadn't yet fallen, while others fled out through the doors and the broken windows.

Harry could see some of them disapparating – escaping – while aurors, now, apparated in onto the grounds – joining the Death Eaters – and Harry saw a dementor swoop by the window of the door making he and Malachi stumble back in fright.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry spun round just in time to see Healer Heart fall to the ground.

Joining the fallen.

One of the Death Eaters advanced on them, the corridor wide open now that there were only two between them – the other engaged by the guards – and Harry felt Malachi grab his arm, pulling him, as if to make him run.

Instead, Malachi pulled him into one of the offices – one Harry didn't recognize – and the Death Eater followed.

Harry lifted up his wand, deflecting a spell, and then he and Malachi fought them two to one – the way they had at Hogwarts – but _better_ this time, now that Harry knew more about what he was doing.

" _Stupefy!"_

His spell was deflected, while Malachi tried for a body-bind – which also failed – and, while Malachi fought them off, Harry tried and succeeded in transfiguring some arrows out of the quills that were resting on the bookcase behind the Death Eater that fought them.

He flicked his wand – the Death Eater noticing just in time, ducking, and attempting to deflect them but getting nicked behind the ear – Malachi called out another spell – another body-bind – and this time the Death Eater went down.

Malachi hurried up to Harry, urging him back, and they burst through the adjourning door into what Harry recognized, now, was Mr. Black's office.

Malachi – hand still holding Harry by the arm – made to pull him up to the desk; Harry remembering, then, the means by which he'd escaped, briefly, the last time this had happened.

"Harry!"

Harry spun round at the voice – his little sister's – and he felt a jolt of shock come over him, then, when he unexpectedly coming face to face with _Snape_.

For a second, they just stood there – the four of them, Harry and Malachi; Snape and his sister, clutched by the arm at his side – as if unable to believe their luck that they'd encountered one another.

And it was enough to overcome even the overwhelming relief Harry felt at seeing his little sister safe and well and _here_.

That, after all these months, Snape was suddenly standing here _,_ too,in front of him again; as it all came rushing back.

The occlumency and the legillimency and the smiles and the teasing and _Dumbledore._

And then, the horcrux that Harry now knew lingered within him; rendering the fact he was trying to even escape now pointless.

Wrong, even.

Harry launched himself forward, not really thinking about what he was doing, and hugged Snape tight around the neck.

Snape stumbled back, letting go of Grace, and for a second, Harry thought he felt the man's hands on his arms – not quite hugging him back, but not pushing him away either – the tension leaving him, for just a second, as if in relief.

And then the man did draw back.

"We do not have much time –" Snape said, briskly, grasping Grace's arm once more and hurrying them up to the desk – where Malachi had been going – to the trap door that had already been pulled back, revealing the tunnels through which Harry and Mr. Black had almost escaped the last time Death Eaters had breached the Foundation's wards.

"You know where to go –"

"It's dark down there," Grace looked at the tunnel, in obvious fright, drawing back from where Snape was trying to push her; refusing to go down.

"Look, it's fine, Grace," Malachi said, as he jumped down, before he looked up, reaching a hand up to her.

Grace shook her head, her brow furrowing.

"We're gonna be right with you, Grace," Harry said, quietly, his hand on her arm; "It'll just be like nighttime, that's all. When we have all those adventures in the house."

Grace got a small smile then, meeting his eyes.

"And you'll do magic? With the lights? That mummy doesn't let us do."

Harry chuckled, nodding; "Yeah. Yeah. I'll do the lights."

Grace's fear seemed to leave her then, and Snape nudged her forward, towards the tunnel.

"Night-time. Okay," Grace nodded, before she looked over her shoulder at Snape, giving him a smile as she stood on the edge of the tunnel; "Night, Professor Snape."

Snape smiled – _smiled_ – with a warmth that Harry knew he'd never seen from him before.

Which seemed odd, considering the sound of battle still sounded just beyond the walls of the office, signaling the _direness_ of their current circumstances.

"Goodnight Grace."

Grace's smile faltered.

Her eyes glazing.

Her brow furrowed, ever-so-slightly.

In a way that had become familiar, sometimes, whenever one of them slipped up.

Whenever she got one of them back – a memory – and then Grace's expression cleared.

A look of dawning recognition suddenly coming upon her, her voice uncertain.

Barely above a whisper.

"Daddy."

Snape's smile left him then.

His eyes met Harry's, speaking briskly.

"Harry –" he indicated he go – with more sense of urgency now.

"Come on, Grace," Harry took her by the arm, trying to urge her down into the tunnel.

"No," Grace pulled back; "Daddy! Daddy –" Harry wrapped his arms around her, making to just jump down while holding her; "You have to come with us, too!"

"Harry. Go."

"Daddy!"

The door to the office burst open, then, and a Death Eater stepped into the room; quickly taking in the sight before him.

The three of them escaping, with the aide of one of their own comrades.

" _Daddy_!" Grace called, making the situation a hundred times _worse_ than it already was.

Snape blinked, slowly.

As if in concession.

Before he turned to face the person behind him – unmasked, unlike the other who'd entered – his face stoic, unyielding as it met the gaze of the person behind the mask.

"Daddy!"

Harry clamped a hand over her mouth – not that it would do much good now – as two others stepped into the room, taking in the scene.

The much worse scene.

Harry Potter standing, holding back his little sister, calling out to her _father;_ Severus Snape.

Snape's chin lifted, as the three of them stood there – seeming suspended in time – and then he drew.

A spell firing first from one of the Death Eaters.

Snape swiftly fired one back.

* * *

Regulus clutched his wand, tight, as he darted to each of the doorways – looking into each of the labs as he passed – unable to make up his mind if he ought to be panicking even more at the fact he still hadn't found his son or glad of it, for – maybe – Malachi had just managed to leave, already, as part of the procedure that the Security Personnel had already been briefed on.

Perhaps Harry and Malachi were already off the grounds.

Safe at home, even.

But that still left Grace. And –

Regulus rounded the corner, running into something with an _'omph'_ that was completely invisible.

His heart lurched a little, wondering – for a quick moment – if it were Severus but the invisibility cloak was immediately pulled from the person – or, rather, people – who he'd run into, revealing Draco and the Greengrass girls.

"Draco," Regulus sighed in relief, a hand going to his shoulder, he nodded back the way that he'd come; "The exit tunnels in the basement are clear –"

"Then why aren't you gone?" Draco stared at him.

"I'm looking for Malachi. Have you seen him?"

Draco shook his head.

"Harry?" the oldest of the Greengrass girls piped up, with obvious concern in her eyes.

"If they're still in here, I'll find them," Regulus assured her, "There's a good chance they've already left. Now – you three, off you go. Round this corner and straight down, you can't miss it."

"Snape took Potter's sister."

Regulus met Draco's eyes sharply.

Careful not to let the relief he immediately felt show; that Grace was with Severus.

"Ah," Regulus nodded; "I…I see. Well. I'll find her."

"Why?" Draco raised an eyebrow; "Not like he'd hurt her. Right?"

Regulus frowned, staring back at him, and it was only then that Regulus realized the oddity of the fact that Draco and these girls had the cloak that he'd sent through to Severus, some days before.

But, before Regulus could think further on it – a pointless waste of time, considering the current situation – the click of footsteps rounding the corner alerted them to the fact they were no longer alone and – before they could react – Lucius appeared around the corner, unmasked.

Draco stumbled back.

All bravado gone under the gaze of his father.

Lucius eyed Draco; his expression giving nothing away.

Regulus gripped his wand, tighter, his eyes on the two of them.

And then Lucius jerked his head to the side – indicating that his son leave – and Draco's stance relaxed, slightly, before he glanced at Regulus.

Regulus gave him a reassuring smile – one that was met with a look from his cousin that was _almost_ apologetic – before Draco reached for Astoria's hand and he scurried away, the two Greengrass girls following.

Disappearing once more beneath the invisibility cloak before they rounded the corner.

Lucius' lips twitched – not a smile, no, but almost a smirk – and then he lifted his chin, staring Regulus down.

For a moment, Regulus thought that was all it'd be.

And then Lucius' expression turned – becoming one of hate and of fury and of _grief,_ not entirely unlike Eugene's – and Regulus only just got a shield charm up in time to protect himself from Lucius' attack.

The next came faster – as swift and deadly, as Lucius always was when he dueled – and Regulus parried it, not entirely terrible anymore, as he had been the last time they'd dueled, now that he'd had some chances to practice.

They circled one another – but there no time for this, no – firing spells back and forth; each spell from Lucius increasing with ferocity – but, also, an alarming, deadly composure, as if he were holding back a bit, until the right moment to strike – while Regulus did as he always did, kept up his footwork and avoid all eye contact.

He knew Lucius would not want to see anything that passed through his mind in that moment.

To do so would only enrage him, further.

For they were both surely thinking about the same thing; the same _someone_.

And that was all it took – one lingering thought on his cousin as she'd knelt on the grass before him, the last person she'd set eyes upon – for Lucius to strike him, find a weak point, and his wand flew across the corridor, the _tap, tap, tap_ of it echoing even over the sound of the battle that still raged overhead.

Regulus was hit, falling onto his back – but still breathing, not even bound – and then Lucius was standing above him.

A tortured look in his eyes – the familiar calm composure gone – as he glared down at him from where he stood above him, jaw clenched and lip twitching.

Regulus stared back at him.

He knew better than to say he was sorry.

Feeling himself shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in Narcissa's husband's eyes.

And then Lucius stepped away.

Turned and left him there, lying on the floor.

Alive.

Regulus closed his eyes, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Lucius turned the corner, now out of sight.

But Regulus couldn't linger there.

He got back to his feet – summoning his wand – and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Harry deflected the spell that was fired his way.

Fired another one right on the heels of it, as he'd learned to do.

Wasting no opportunity to attack.

There were four of them now – the Death Eaters – four to three; though two of the three were he and Malachi, so Harry didn't quite like their chances as he made sure not to venture too far from where he was standing – protecting Grace who was now taking cover in the tunnel behind him – while Malachi stepped up to his side.

The two of them fought as they had before – two to one – while Snape dealt with the others – not without difficultly, Harry could tell – and Harry stepped forward, shooting a glance at Malachi that he'd understand to protect Grace.

Malachi nodded, as Harry stepped up in line with Snape, fighting the three of engaged him back, and he noticed Snape's eyes dart to the side, meeting his glance, briefly.

A spell came at him – faster than before – and there was a cackle behind the mask of the person who'd cast it – one Harry recognized, instantly – and, just as he thought it, the woman – Bellatrix Lestrange, he remembered her name – turned her attention to Malachi, now that Harry had left his side.

Harry deflect another spell in a panic, now, and immediately sent a returning jinx – hoping that'd be enough time for him to move a few paces back, feeling foolish for going to help Snape when he should have stayed beside Malachi – and he was engaged, again, ferociously, one of the two left dueling Snape now advancing on Harry.

One on one.

Harry heard Malachi's voice call out spells – fighting his aunt off – and then he heard an ' _omph'_ , before there was another zap of spells, and then he heard Grace yelp in fear and Snape turned, then, momentarily, and – when he did – he was hit with something and Harry was sprayed with blood from a wound that appeared across Snape's shoulder.

Snape didn't even flinch.

Instead, the man stepped in closer to his opponent, his eyes flashing.

But Harry could see no more than that, his attention quickly drawn back to his own – at the Death Eater who flicked his wand in quick succession, firing two spells Harry's way – and Harry parried them, calling on all he'd learnt from his duels with Mr. Black – disappointed that the legillimency he'd been keen to utilize would do no good against Death Eater, due to the masks.

Harry struck his opponent – surprising himself just as much as the Death Eater – with a ' _Petrificus Totalus_!', flooring him.

Harry had no time to rejoice – to be glad of the fact – for the room was suddenly filled with the sounds of agonized screaming and manic laughter and Harry whirled around, just in time to see Malachi writhing on the floor, beneath the curse of his aunt, and Harry quickly fired a spell her way.

Bellatrix Lestrange turned her attention on Harrythen, the spell she'd been casting lifting, leaving Malachi twitching on the floor – still under the lingering effects of the Cruciatus – and Harry heard Grace whimper, calling out to him.

"Harry!"

The voice made the mad woman hesitate, and she turned, slightly, as if to go to his sister instead.

Harry immediately stepped towards her, not allowing her the chance.

" _Confringo!"_

Harry blew up the desk behind her, forcing her to take cover, and then he fired another spell her way as Malachi pushed himself up to his feet.

" _Impedimenta!"_ Malachi tried from behind – almost succeeding – but she deflected it before she swished her wand and the debris of the desk around her swirled upwards in a whirlwind, forcing _them_ to take cover then as it whirled through the room.

"Time to say bye-bye, Baby Black."

She advanced towards Malachi, then, as her eyes glinted, and Harry knew – even as he quicky hurried back to Malachi's side that – family or not – this woman was going in for the kill.

A dementor swept into the room – chilling Harry to the bone and making it difficult to breath – and he clutched his wand, making to cast a Patronus but he didn't get the chance; forced, instead, to deflect a flash of green light Malachi's aunt shot their way.

Another.

Another.

Harry barely registered Mr. Black running into the room.

The shock in his voice when he spoke, realizing what had happened - " _Severus_ " – and Snape glanced at him, briefly, out the corner of his eye, still continuing to fight the Death Eater before him.

Mr. Black hurriedly engaged Bellatrix – a flash of yellow light cast her way – and then it was three to one and the odds were much better now, while Snape continued to duel the other by the door.

Grace screamed.

Harry spun round at the sound – his heart leaping at the terror in his little sister's voice – and he saw the dementor descending towards her – barely a meter away – and his Patronus – the bright silver dog – flew from his wand, chasing the creature away from her and out of the room, back onto the grounds.

Mr. Black and Malachi continued to fight Bellatrix, Harry rejoining them.

Spells firing back and forth.

The woman's eyes glinted – with far more intent in her gaze now that Malachi's dad fought alongside them – and she lifted her hand – while still wielding her wand with the other – and the bookcase in the corner ignited in a fierce inferno.

Balls of flames conjured up from it and were suddenly flying their way, forcing Harry and Malachi to stop dueling in order to deflect them, while Mr. Black continued to fight.

The Death Eater that Snape was dueling hit the ground.

And then – wasting no time – he turned on his heel and fired a spell at Bellatrix.

There was a snarl – and then a cackle behind the mask – as Snape and Mr. Black joined forces, fighting her; Harry and Malachi making to join them.

Even then she was still good; Malachi disarmed, first, and his wand flew across the room while Harry had to duck almost immediately after, as a picture on the wall was transfigured into a fiery lasso – spinning in the air above her – before launching in Harry's direction.

Snape's attack increased in ferocity at the attempt – though there was still a cool collectedness about him as he met and matched and then, _exceeded_ her attack – forcing her back on the defensive for the first time.

Mr. Black shot a spell at her – once, twice – and Harry was certain, then, that there was an opening.

That he could _finish_ her.

Mr. Black hesitated.

Snape cast it instead; " _Avada Kedavra_."

Bellatrix Lestrange landed on the floor of Mr. Black's office with a thud.

Dead.

Harry was suddenly seized by the arm, barely able to even process the fact she'd fallen.

"Go," Snape said as he pushed him in the direction of the window; "We can apparate from the grounds –"

"Lily and Julia are still in the basement," Mr. Black said, not looking at his cousin as he stepped around where she now lay on the floor, drawing Malachi by the arm in the direction of the door, instead, and Snape hurried over, lifting Grace from where she'd been hiding in the tunnel, carrying her on his hip as the three of them followed.

The clash of combat still rung out behind them in the ballroom and the lobby, out on the grounds, as the people still remaining sought to fight and flee from the Foundation.

It passed in a flash, the moments between leaving the office and them hurrying into the basement, and, when they did, they found no one there.

Just emptiness.

Mr. Black stumbled forward, his voice unnerved; "Lily?"

His mum suddenly appeared on the floor – visible, after pulling the invisibility cloak from her head – and Harry realized, then, that Julia was hurt.

Mr. Black hurried over, scooping her into his arms, and they filed out of the basement through the tunnels, making their escape.

"Where are we going, Daddy?"

Harry heard Grace's voice behind him, as they hurried one-by-one through the dark.

"Somewhere safe."

The change in the tunnel systems had them stepping out of the grounds to the west of the building; each of them stumbling out, one after the other, and hurrying up the grass.

Harry risked a glance back over his shoulder as he stepped up the incline, as they made their way hurriedly the direction of the woods.

All of their steps slowed, at the sight behind them, when they realized they'd made it to safety.

Almost.

There were just the odd flashes of light that still shot between the windows and the archways, now.

Faint screams carried on the wind.

The sight of people fleeing from all the blasted open holes in the walls; disapparating as soon as they could.

"You cannot be serious," Harry could hear Snape saying, while he still kept his eyes on the Foundation; "There will be aurors all over St. Mungo's, Regulus; you'll be arrested on sight."

"I don't care," Mr. Black's voice shook, and Harry looked then, hearing a sob escape him as Mr. Black – Julia still in his arms – turned to Malachi; "Go with Severus."

"Dad."

Mr. Black leaned his forehead to Malachi's temple, just for a second, before stepping back and disapparating with Julia.

Harry stepped in closer to Malachi – noticing his friend's distress – as they looked back at the chaos behind. They two and his mum and Snape, Grace still perched on his hip, her head tucked into his shoulder.

The Dark Mark suddenly appeared, cast high in the sky above the Foundation.

The resistance having fallen.

The war well and truly lost.


	89. May 1996: Enemies of the State

Regulus stood in the corner of the room, watching as the two healers hurried around Julia where she lay – entirely still, pale with a tinge of blue to her lips and eyelids – upon the bed in the private room at St. Mungo's.

A private room which, Regulus was sure by the shelves of potions and bandages and dressings within it, was actually a cupboard; the bed transfigured out of something within it, to conceal the fact that they'd come.

Regulus had snuck in and up to Julia's ward – his limp wife in his arms – just as night began to fall, hoping that those who knew her would be willing to help.

They'd been bustled out of sight as soon as one of the attending Healers had set their eyes upon them, quickly setting to work.

Regulus could vaguely hear them, past his own dazed thoughts, unable to process what was happening.

"… _need a curse breaker…"; "…doesn't have much time…"; "…baby's distressed…"; "…needs to come out first…"_

It couldn't end like this.

She couldn't be dying.

"Mr. Black," a matron said, softly, as she suddenly appeared in front of him, forcing him to tear his eyes from his wife.

The eyes were kind.

So much so, that Regulus could almost trust her.

"How far along is she?" she asked.

He stared at her.

Stupidly.

All rational thought leaving him – unable to access anything in his mind past the fact that Julia might be dying – and he frowned.

The woman – barely more than a girl – touched a hand to his arm, asking more gently; "When is the baby due?"

Regulus swallowed – that was easier – before choking out the information.

The day he'd been dreaming of for months now.

"June fifth."

The girl turned, giving a nod to one of the Healers, and the two of them up by the bed began moving around, with more haste than before, as the matron turned back to him.

"Mr. Black," she said, drawing his gaze back to her; "We're going to deliver the baby. Julia won't be awake. But you can stay, if you'd like to."

That wasn't right.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Just him and the baby.

Still, he nodded and followed the matron – who smiled, kindly, once more – almost in a daze, to Julia, taking a seat on the stool he realized they'd put there for him up at the top of the bed, behind her.

Regulus leaned in close, his hands tentatively going to her shoulders – looking at the Healers, uncertainly, and only touching her when one gave him a nod, an assurance that to do so wouldn't hurt her – and then he buried his nose in her hair and held her – tried to ignore how cold she was within his arms – and waited.

It took only minutes before the not-unfamiliar cries of a newborn baby – their baby – filled the room.

Regulus closed his eyes, face still buried close into Julia's hair – his heart clenching that she was missing this – and didn't move until the matron walked up to him – the cries having stopped – with the wrapped-up bundle in her arms, while the Healers went back to tending to Julia.

Regulus lifted his head.

"Congratulations. It's a boy."

Regulus sat up, straighter, unable to help his frown of bewilderment – having been certain it would be a girl – and she placed the baby into his arms.

Regulus gazed down at him where he lay.

His son.

He was perfect.

Tiny – coming earlier than he should have done – but perfect.

He looked exactly like Malachi had.

Though, even with them closed, Regulus knew his eyes would be brown.

His own were grey.

He'd have the eyes of his mother.

Both his sons with the eyes of their mothers; and their mothers, both, lost to them.

Torn from their lives for their wretch of a father.

The little eyelids opened, then; bleary eyes, blinking, innocently looking back at him.

Still baby blue, not yet changed.

The spitting image of his brother.

Flashes of his first born – his innocent boy – and all Malachi had lost and lived through coming back to him in that moment.

Regulus couldn't breathe.

He saw a tear splash onto the little face of his new son.

And he hated himself, more than ever, in that moment, that the first sight his baby would see was his father's tears.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

He was supposed to do better, this time.

The baby – his baby – started to cry.

Regulus did, too, unable to help it.

But he drew his son close, rather than pushing him away, murmuring softly against his tiny head where he held him against his chest.

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

Harry heard a sniff come from the other side of the room.

Malachi's room.

The five of them having come to the Blacks' for cover – following their escape from the Foundation – Mr. Black being their Secret Keeper rendering their own home almost as unstable as the Foundation had become, should Mr. Black actually be captured.

With a glance, Harry could see Grace was fast asleep – facing him – from where her transfigured bed was set up in the corner of the room.

Harry glanced upwards, to Malachi, who lay with his back to him in his own.

"Malachi?" Harry whispered.

Malachi didn't answer him – but his friend held his breath, enough of a signal that he'd heard him, futilely trying to pretend he was asleep – and Harry sighed, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling.

He knew Malachi didn't like to talk when he was upset.

When he was afraid.

Mr. Black still hadn't come back.

Snape said that was good. That they must be doing something for them.

But Malachi didn't think so, sitting huddled by the radio all night waiting for word of his dad's arrest – or, more likely, execution – until Snape had told him enough and sent them to bed after he'd finally managed to settle down Grace, who bounded the walls, delighted by the fact her father was there despite the terrible circumstances.

Of course, they wouldn't sleep.

How could they, after all they'd seen and after all they now knew – not that Harry had said anything to either Snape or his mum about it yet – for it was all Harry could do just to keep his mind from racing at it all.

At how this one single day had changed everything.

His mind lingered on the Foundation, and Daphne who was lost to him, now, and the fallen – the dead – who, soon, he'd be joining – for there was no way he could let anything like that happen again, if it were in his power to stop it – and then his mind would go to the horcrux – to what he was – and how Snape had known and how his _mum_ must have known, too.

He wanted answers.

But he lay there, in the dark, eyes on the ceiling.

Unable to go downstairs and ask the questions.

He heard the sound of the door open and shut downstairs – Malachi immediately springing to his feet and hurrying from the room – and Harry pushed himself up, slowly.

Marvelling at Grace's ability to sleep through anything.

There was almost complete silence from the story below – enough of a sign that Mr. Black hadn't come back – and Harry got to his feet, grabbing and putting on his glasses, as he went, instead, to the window.

It took a few seconds for him to notice them.

A figure standing in the darkness – a long way away from the house, near the edge of the woodland – and Harry squinted, trying to make out who it was.

And then he saw another figure – his mum, he realised – making her way towards them in the dark.

* * *

"Remus."

Remus hugged her as soon as Lily stepped beyond the boundaries of the Fidelius.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, urgently; "The kids?"

Lily nodded, slowly drawing back; "Yes. We made it out, all of us. But Julia…Regulus had to take her to St. Mungo's. He sent word a few minutes ago. A curse breaker was able to lift the curse. But it's just a matter of time, now, to see how she was affected. Whether or not she'll…"

Lily's voice trailed off.

Remus nodded, grimly, taking in the news, before he reached down, lifting up a bag that was at his feet – reduced in size, Lily realised right away, feeling the weight of it when he handed it over.

"This is all Severus asked for. What I could get my hands on before any newly instated Death Eaters could arrive."

"Has he assigned a new Headmaster?"

"Not yet. From what I've heard, the spring term is to be suspended, with the students sent home early for the summer. But we should know more tomorrow. I imagine Hogwarts is not the first thing on Voldemort's mind right now; what with the rumours currently circulating."

Lily nodded, glancing down.

"What happened, Lily?"

"Most likely whatever the rumours say happened," Lily said, with a wry look; "Grace. And now Severus is…no longer able to maintain his place by Voldemort's side."

Remus nodded; "I can imagine. What's being said has caused quite the stir within Hogwarts, alone."

Lily lifted her eyebrows, nodding, well believing the fact.

"Dora sent a message," Remus went on, "I was able to go to her, first. She's with Hermione and the Weasleys. They made it out. They'd heard from a few other groups, too; Daphne Greengrass and the kids she was with, Kingsley came across them just outside the boundaries. They're all taking cover in whatever safe houses they can find. Until it's safe to regroup."

Lily sighed; glad of some good news – that others had made it out – in light of all that had just transpired.

Harry would be happy to hear of it.

Remus reached out, squeezing her shoulder; "I better get back. Eyes everywhere now; they're expecting the teachers to offer aide – of course we would – but they're still none-the-wiser to the Hogs Head entrance for now. If you need anything else…"

"Thank you, Remus."

He smiled, nodding.

"Give the kids my love."

Lily smiled in turn, nodding that she would, before she lifted the bag up over her shoulder and headed back to the house.

"Then, they're okay?" Malachi was saying, his eyes bright with both surprise and hope, when Lily stepped into the kitchen, finding him standing opposite where Severus was brewing at the counter; "They didn't get caught?"

"As far as can be gathered from your father's message; all is as well as can be expected, Malachi."

Malachi released a breath, his relief palpable as he smiled; "Um…"

Severus inclined his chin, nodding back at the staircase; "I trust you might sleep somewhat easier, now?"

Malachi's smile warmed – gratefully, as if Severus himself had been the one to save them – and then he nodded.

Before he turned and headed back upstairs.

Lily approached where Severus stood – him giving her a warm look as she did, while he added another ingredient to the cauldron – the air between them heavy with the reality of all that had just happened.

Barely able to find the joy they ought to, at being in one another's company again for so long.

Both of them aware of the gravity of the situation and that _this,_ now,could very well be as good at it gets for them.

The voice from the radio spoke softly, Severus opting to keep it on after the boys had been sent to bed.

"… _in light of recent events, a new – extremely enticing – reward has been placed upon another head. None other than that of former Hogwarts Headmaster, Severus Snape – the man responsible for the cowardly murder of one Albus Dumbledore – who has demonstrated, once again, that loyalty is a rather fickle thing, indeed. A hundred thousands galleons upon his head, as was announced…"_

"How's it coming?" Lily asked, as she reached his side, peering into the cauldron as she placed the bag onto counter.

"It should be complete within the next couple of hours," Severus assured her; "This should counter any lingering side effects and accelerate the recovery process; preferably, the course of potions should begin immediately upon the lifting of the curse –"

"They've only just lifted it," Lily pointed out; "Maybe we could get it to them –"

"No. Regulus and the two of them need to be extracted from St. Mungo's, at the next available opportunity," Severus said, glancing at her while he carried on brewing; "It will not be long until they are discovered there. No matter how many of your friend's colleagues remain loyal and willing to assist; it takes only one. As the incident at the Foundation has just demonstrated."

Lily nodded, knowing it were true. That they were no means out of the woods, having initially been met with kindness.

"As soon as the concoction is complete, I shall go and retrieve them," Severus told her; "With it being the middle of the night, their cover is likely to remain in tact a little while longer –"

"I'll go."

"Lily –"

"I've been out there for months, Severus, I know how to move around without being noticed. And, after what happened, everyone's eyes are going to be looking out for you."

"The point is mute, considering Lupin just delivered my stores of Polyjuice Potion along with the other items I requested."

"Well," Lily raised her eyebrows; "Then the point _is_ mute, indeed."

She flicked her wand, returning the bag to its rightful size and opened it, rummaging inside for the Polyjuice.

"Lily –"

She found it, pulling it out and set about looking for a flask; "Severus, you just said time is of the essence and you need to be here brewing the potions. I'll go and get them. There's no way Regulus would manage to get Julia out, along with the baby, while she's still unconscious and we've only got a few hours of dark left."

Lily filled the flask she'd found with the Polyjuice, capping it and tucking it into the pocket of the cloak she still wore, while Severus – still working – eyed her, warily.

Lily smiled, before stepping towards him and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder; "I'll be back soon."

Severus looked at her – not entirely sceptically, but still not at all pleased – and she leaned up, pressing her lips to his.

Severus remained close when she drew back, his voice soft when he spoke.

"Be safe, Lily."

She smiled, nudging his nose with hers, playfully – eliciting a small smile from him in turn - before she turned and headed out, snatching up Harry's Invisibility Cloak that lay on the counter as she passed.

* * *

It took a couple of hours before Lily – now blonde haired and blue-eyed – finally came across them; Regulus, Julia and the baby, where they were set up in a closet down the end of the restricted ward that Lily, herself, had spent far too much time in the year before.

Regulus was the only one awake, sitting on a chair by Julia's bed, eyes all for the baby in his arms that rested upon his knees, not noticing Lily's quiet arrival.

Lily stepped into the room; "Hey."

Regulus started and turned away, slightly, and it was then that Lily noticed his reddened eyes before he looked back at her and forced a smile and a nod.

"Shift changeover, is it?"

Lily gave him a small smile – which she was sure conveyed the sadness of the entire room – and shook her head; "It's me, Regulus. Lily."

Regulus' smile faded away then, as he looked at her, consideringly, before he looked back at the baby.

Not even asking the security questions they'd established to check.

Lily sat down on one of the boxes – a supply box, she guessed – next to him and she turned her gaze to the sleeping baby.

"Is it –"

"A little boy," Regulus said, quietly.

Lily smiled, then, unable to help herself at the sight of him.

"He's beautiful."

Regulus nodded, his voice quiet; "Yes."

Both their eyes lingered upon the sleeping babe, the picture of innocence. Sleeping peacefully, entirely unaware of the darkness that he'd been born into.

Regulus drew in a breath, his voice barely more than a murmur as he kept his eyes on his son.

"I wanted him to have everything. But really…the only thing he _needs_ is his mother."

Regulus dipped his head.

His voice low, harsh and ashamed when he went on.

"I can't do this again."

Lily turned more fully to face him, her hand going to his arm.

She waited until he met her eyes – albeit briefly – before she said, with certainty.

"Yes, you can," she assured him, before she shook her head; "But you won't have to."

Regulus rubbed a hand across his eyes, before looking at Julia; "The Healers said there's only a forty percent chance, Lily. And that's only if she wakes within the next forty eight hours –"

"Severus has something."

Regulus looked back at her.

"It's…experimental. But with the baby being here now, the advantages far outweigh the risks. It might just accelerate the recovery enough, now the curse has been lifted, to avoid any lasting damage. The sooner we can –"

There was a knock at the door to the room – the cupboard – before it pushed open and one of the matrons – one Lily recognised from her own time as a patient – walked into the room.

"Oh," she said, coming to a stop with surprise in her voice when she noticed Lily-in-disguise.

Regulus carefully placed the baby in Lily's arms – she marvelling at the lightness of him – before he got to his feet and went to the woman who'd entered.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"There's a shift changeover an hour from now. We'd stay, of course, but there's rules against –"

Regulus nodded, stopping her; "No. No, I understand."

"It's up to you if you'd like to stay here," the matron told him, "But Julia worked the nights. So…we can't be sure that the staff coming in this morning –"

Regulus held up a hand, giving the young matron a smile; "You don't have to explain. And thank you – tell the others – for this. Thank you."

"Course. Julia's one of us, Mr. Black."

The woman gave him another smile, before she turned, heading from the room, and, when she did, Lily got to her feet – carefully moving the baby into the crook of one arm before she reached into her cloak, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak and handing it over to Regulus.

"Let's go."

* * *

Malachi stood off to the side of the door to his dad's bedroom, uncertainly, as he watched his dad and Severus and Mrs. Potter bustle around the room, getting Julia – still unconscious – settled on the bed, having been woken by the sound of their voices when they'd come up the stairs.

Severus gave a nod to his dad when Julia was lying down, and his dad stepped away – allowing Severus to take a seat on the bed next to her – before his Godfather proceed to administer various potions and spells and whatever else needed to be done to make sure she'd be alright.

Malachi drew in a shaking breath, hoping she would be.

Tried – hard as he could – not to think about his mum.

His dad noticed him, then, and he headed over, giving him a smile as he approached. Malachi's smile came easily in turn at seeing his dad fine, at least, after all he'd been imagining since he'd disappeared with Julia the night before.

"Dad."

His dad hugged him tight and Malachi just let him, neither of them saying anything until he finally drew back.

"Is she gonna be alright?"

His dad swallowed, glancing at her, before he met Malachi's eyes and nodded; "Yes."

Malachi wasn't sure if it was true – if his dad was trying to convince himself, as much as he was Malachi – but he didn't counter the statement.

Things were hopeless enough, right now, as it was.

A soft cry sounded, then, from Mrs. Potter's arms.

And it was only then that Malachi remembered with a start…

His dad smiled, even more warmly that time, and he quickly went over to Harry's mum, lifting the wrapped-up bundle in her arms – that wiggled a little, making snuffling noises – before coming back to him.

Malachi swallowed – feeling strangely nervous with anticipation – as his dad reached him.

"So, um…" his dad lifted his eyebrows, before he said, with that little proud smile of his; " _This_ is your little brother."

Malachi stared at him.

He was so small – much smaller than Malachi had imagined he'd be – and he looked _so much_ like his dad.

The little eyes blinked up at him.

Malachi tentatively reached up – not really sure what to do – as if to touch his familiar little face and, when he did, his finger was captured by the grasp of a tiny – unbelievably soft – hand, that squeezed him tight.

Malachi released a breath, smiling then.

"Hi."

A little noise – an odd gargle of a sound – came from the baby, his brother, as if answering him. And Malachi laughed a little bit, not really able to believe what was happening.

He met his dad's eyes, then, and Malachi noticed they glimmered.

But his dad didn't look sad.

Instead, he chuckled a little bit, too, and he reached out an arm, drawing Malachi into his side and pressed a kissed to his head.

The two of them staring down at the new life of the little Black that had come into the world.

Malachi started to reach for him, nervously but no less eager.

"Grace –" Mrs. Potter's voice sounded behind him, and Malachi saw her trying to grasp Harry's sister by the arm – to no avail – to stop her approach.

"Aw! He's so cute, Mr. Black!" Grace declared, rushing up to his dad's side, disheveled from sleep but eyes bright with delighted approval; "Can I hold him?"

Mr. Black chuckled – casting an apologetic look Malachi's way – and nodded; "Have a seat at the window, I'll bring him over."

Grace grinned and hurried to do as he said, his dad giving Malachi's shoulder a squeeze, before following her across the room.

* * *

"That's not a bear, Daddy; it's a _dog_!"

"It looks rather intimidating to be merely a dog, don't you think?"

"Just because dogs can be cute and friendly, that doesn't mean they can't be _fierce,"_ Grace grinned, before baring her teeth with a growl, playfully.

Snape made a sound – it took a second for Harry to realise it was a _laugh_ – and chuckled Grace's chin, with obvious affection, the two of them sitting cuddled together on the couch with a book on Snape's lap.

Harry stood by the staircase, just watching them.

Grace snuggled back into Snape's side, a contented smile on her face – delighted and completely at ease by her father's unexpected reappearance in her life – as Snape returned to reading the story; an arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

His mum stepped in behind them, leaning down and saying something over Snape's shoulder into his ear.

Snape _smiled_ at whatever she said, before his mum pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment. The man as entirely at ease by it all as his sister.

The picture perfect family.

As if this was just their normality; something they'd done a hundred times before.

Which it was.

And something they'd do a hundred times, thereafter, once Harry was long gone.

It didn't feel real.

None of this.

When Harry had pictured it, knowing – thinking – that it was coming, the four of them finally together – without all of the secrets and the lies that had kept them apart – Harry had expected to be gleeful.

Content in the knowledge that all they had been through and done had been worth it.

He thought he'd be happy.

Instead, Harry felt empty.

Because, looking at Snape and Grace together, now, all he could see was lies.

Secrets and lies and hollow dreams that had come to nothing.

Harry swallowed, glancing down.

He didn't _feel_ different. Being a horcrux.

Except for the fact that he now couldn't stop thinking about how he had to die.

How he had to die and how his family were going to be just fine without him.

Harry pushed the thought aside. A petty, stupid thought; for it wasn't as if he'd rather they be _suffering_ in their future, without him.

If anything, that'd make it worse.

Especially Grace.

The more the secrets came out – secrets he could barely even comprehend, one piled on top of another, never stopping, never _done_ – the more Harry was sure of it; that his baby sister was the only _good_ thing to come out of this whole mess that was their life.

But maybe his mum and Snape had had the right of it.

Maybe it _would_ have been better if Harry had never known.

If they'd just kept lying to him – right to the end – then he wouldn't have wasted so much bloody _time_ asking questions and being angry and thinking he hated them.

He would have just lived and laughed and believed that he and his mum and Grace were it and that _they_ were what had made his mum happy and that they were the family.

It would hurt just the same, obviously – not being there for their future – but at least he could have pretended then – like Grace would scold him for – that it had all been worth it.

That it hadn't all been a lie.

Harry railed against the thought.

He was over it.

He was _over_ it.

He said it over and over in his mind, just as he'd been doing all year, ever since he'd almost gotten his mum killed. Telling himself that it didn't matter. Telling himself that life and love and family were what mattered, and they needed to be together on this.

Together or they'd never win, just like Snape had insisted.

The illusion shattered, then – his entire reason for burying the hurt – because to _win_ he would have to die.

And to _not_ win wasn't an option.

He was never going to be there for the future they promised they were fighting for.

The future they'd put him and his sister through hell for.

"Hey."

Harry started, drawn from his thoughts at the sound of his mum's voice, only noticing then that she'd approached and was standing by his side.

She smiled at him, before looking in the direction of Snape and Grace where they sat on the couch – with a look that told Harry it was the most precious sight in the world to her; the man she loved with their child – and Harry mustered up a smile in turn when she met his eyes.

It wasn't real, the smile.

It was pretending, just like Grace had said.

But his mum didn't even notice. Just squeezed his arm and headed on by up to the kitchen.

Harry watched after her.

And the thought came upon him, suddenly, as if he were a child.

He wanted his mum.

It was so juvenile, so childish, but he did.

Just like the little boy he had been, years and years before, when he'd stood at the doorway to the house every Monday morning and would bid her farewell – with than sinking feeling in his tummy – wondering when he'd see her again.

Knowing, even then, that it most likely wouldn't be until the weekend. A lifetime away, it had seemed, when he was three, four, five years old.

And that, until then, it'd just be him and Sirius; which was never _bad,_ no, but Harry was always left longing for his mum.

Wondering why she was never there.

Harry swallowed, reaching up to wipe at a tear that managed to fall; knowing it was pointless to be angry about it now.

Harry knew what he had to do.

There was no point in denying it and they – his mum and Snape – were obviously just too upset to tell him, themselves, and his mum was _here_ this time.

She was here now.

Harry sighed and made his way across the room to where she stood, pouring glasses of pumpkin juice, that Harry declined when she raised an eyebrow, in enquiry.

His mum frowned, seeming to pick up on his mood – his brooding – that time, and put down the bottle she held.

"Harry?"

"I know what I have to do."

She just looked at him, not saying anything for a second. Giving nothing away, even when she finally did.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Harry said; "The horcrux."

His mum's eyes drifted then, from Harry to Snape, over his shoulder and Harry felt a surge of annoyance that, even now, she wouldn't have it be just about them.

"Harry."

"He'll never die as long as I live. It's the prophecy, it foretold it," Harry tried for bravery, for strength; "I'm gonna have to die."

"No. No, you are not," his mum said, fiercely, making Harry frown in confusion; "We'll find another way."

"What other way?"

"We'll find one," his mum said, with such certainty that Harry's sadness and his anger and his annoyance was suddenly replaced with hope.

That maybe he'd got it wrong.

"I've been looking – searching – for months –"

"And did you find anything?" Harry asked, eyes upon hers and daring to feel that flicker of hope.

"Not yet. But – we just need time."

Harry's eyes lowered when he realised that it was just another one of them.

More of his mum's empty promises.

He did have it wrong.

They didn't expect him to die.

But, suddenly, it all felt _worse._ That they wanted him to go on _living_ , in spite of the fact.

Another lie except, this time, he'd be a part of it.

Anchoring Voldemort to life – letting him kill and tear apart _who knows_ how many more people – while they played happy families, pretending that was fine because they were all that mattered.

No.

"We don't have time, Mum," he whispered.

He felt a tear slip down his cheek when his eyes closed, and he allowed himself, this time, to really think about the life he'd thought they'd been fighting for. And how happy he'd felt when Daphne had come to the Foundation. And how happy he'd felt when Snape had come for them.

How much he _wanted_ more time.

He wanted to make all those silly promises that fifteen-year olds make to their girlfriends – to Daphne – and give her a promise ring that he'd never seen the point of until now and tell her that they were forever and mean it.

He wanted more time with this stupid, messed up family, with Snape – finally – as his father.

He wanted to watch, proudly, as Grace, his baby sister, started Hogwarts and he wanted to chase off any of the boys that dared go near her.

He wanted to see her grow up.

_He_ wanted to grow up.

"Harry."

"We don't have time, Mum," Harry bit out, again, angrily now, "Every extra day I go on living, is an extra day _he_ goes on living, and more and more people die. How long did you want, huh? How long did you want me to live my life lying this time? A month? A year? Another _seven_?"

" _Stop_. "

"As if you haven't already wasted _my whole life_ chasing your stupid fantasies."

His mum looked stricken then.

Knowing it was true. Even if she didn't admit it. Didn't say she was wrong. Or, even, that she was sorry.

She didn't say anything.

And her silence only enraged him even more.

"Bet it was easy for you lying to me about this, actually," Harry glanced away, feeling it all now.

All the hurt, the betrayal, everything he'd buried and told himself didn't matter.

"Not like you haven't had enough practice. Telling me that you not being _with me_ is worth it for whatever stupid rainbow you're chasing next," Harry got a wry smile, lifting his shoulders; "Well, you know what mum. It wasn't worth it. _This wasn't worth it_!""

"Stop it," his mum snapped; "You're my son. I did it for you. To protect you."

"Don't."

"Harry."

"Don't, Mum. Do not stand there and say that you did all of this for _me_. That you _passing me off_ on Sirius and Remus all those years was for me. That you _lying_ to me for _seven years_ about Grace and having a whole other _life_ without me, was for me. Don't stand there and tell me that you are willing to let a _war_ go on, as if that's something I'm supposed to just go along with and be _grateful_ for."

"That's not fair. This is our family _._ Our life, together, the four of us. It's everything that we have been fighting for."

Snape stepped up beside him, then, but Harry only vaguely registered it.

"How could we tell you, Harry?" her eyes went to Snape; "We knew what you'd want to do. And after all that we've been through, how could we live without you there with us at the end of all of this?"

"You knew what I'd want to do?" Harry repeated in disbelief; "You have _never_ thought about what I want. It's always - _always_ \- been about you and what _you_ want our life to look like. Mum. All I ever wanted was you. I wanted you to see me."

"I've always seen you, Harry."

"No. No, you haven't. Because if you did, you'd know that _I_ could never live with _myself_ if I let any more people die for me," Harry released a breath; "I'm not lying and hiding from the truth. That's all our life has ever been, Mum. Just you _dragging_ me from one lie to the next and calling it love. I'm not doing it anymore. I know what I have to do. And the only way you can stop me is if you kill me yourself."

Harry pushed by Snape then – shaking off the hand that attempted to grab him – and burst out the door to the kitchen.

A silly, dramatic exit that even Harry knew would never go anywhere because Malachi lived in the middle of the _sea_ and he was an underage wizard who couldn't apparate yet, so he just stalked up to the edge of the lake and waited.

Waited for who he knew would be coming next.

Snape stepped up beside him a moment later.

"How could you do that?" Harry rounded on him, furiously, "You've been out there, you've seen everything. How could you let them fight knowing that you were just going to keep on protecting me? What was the point of you even _being_ there if you knew we could never win?"

Snape met his eyes.

"Because you're mine."

Harry stared back at him.

He'd wanted to hear it for so long – that Snape cared for him, and that he was his – but not like _this_. Not _for_ this and Harry shook his head, looking away.

Angrier, now, that Snape had ruined this moment.

Tainted, forever – not that Harry's forever was much longer – with lies and deceit and betrayal and whatever the hell else this was.

But Snape didn't stop there.

"Everything that I have ever done has been for the people that I love."

Harry closed his eyes.

He said nothing to that – nor did Snape say anything more, as if he were waiting for Harry to speak – and Harry wondered if Snape was actually expecting him to say it back.

As if Snape saying he loved him enough to turn a blind eye to the whole world's suffering on his behalf was something that should be rewarded with a declaration of Harry's own love for him in return, rather than the _actual_ feelings Harry had of _immeasurable_ disappointment.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Family first," he finally said, bitterly, when the silence stretched.

"That's right," Snape said, unapologetically.

"Sounds nice, huh. Family first and screw every else."

"It wasn't that long ago you laid the opposite crime at my feet," Snape pointed out, making Harry glare at him at the recollection; "Or have you forgotten your accusation? That I allowed yourself and your sister to suffer on behalf of the rest of the world."

"That's not the same," Harry scoffed; "I wanted you to stop lying – which you _didn't -_ and I would never have asked you to do this for me. You know I wouldn't. You just let me go on thinking that all you promised we'd have was still going to happen, so I'd stop being mad over what happened with you and mum."

"No. The information is recent to us, also."

"How recent?"

"Very."

"Mum said you've known for months."

Snape said nothing to that.

Just eyed Harry, as if _he_ were the one who had a right to be disappointed right now. As if Harry was the one incapable of understanding family and what it _should_ be.

But Harry wouldn't let that shake him. Because he did know what it should be.

It should be light and laughter and love and _true_.

It wasn't _this_.

It could never be this.

Harry sighed, finally turning to face Snape, and just _saying_ it for the first time.

"You know, I've wanted this for so long. For us to be a family. For you to _look at me_ like I'm really family. And now –" Harry broke off, drawing in a breath not quite steady; "Now I don't really like it much. What family means to you and mum. Secrets and lies and _poison_ to everyone else around us."

Snape lifted his chin, eyeing him; continuing that stoic, infuriating silence of his, but Harry was beyond caring, now.

"I'm not going to live my life feeling guilty just for being alive; sucking it up - all this _crap_ \- just so you and mum can have this life that you two dreamed up to tell yourselves that all you've done has been okay. It's _not_ okay. And I'm not going to run away and _hide_ and leave everyone else at bloody _war_ so I can keep living this crappy life you two made for me."

"Harry."

"I'm going to die," Harry said it, with certainty now, knowing that if _they_ weren't going to face up to it – if they were going to make him do this by himself – then he would just have to.

"I was always supposed to die. Pity it didn't happen sooner, right? All that time you've missed –"

Harry broke off and pushed by him, heading back to the house.

No choice for now.

But he could feel the hurt and the hopelessness and the _anger_ roiling off of him, now, that _he_ was the one who was pushing for it – his own death – because they wouldn't face up to reality and _truth_ for once, and he was _always_ the one that had to suffer for it when they wouldn't.

Always.

He turned back around, noticing Snape still standing there, his eyes upon him.

And he didn't know why he turned around or what he wanted or why he said it, but it blurted from him, anyway, and Harry thought, maybe, he just wanted Snape to _say something_.

"Don't worry though. If you just forget the last year ever happened, maybe you and mum might be able to convince yourselves that it really was all worth it. When I'm finally gone and you two can go and have that life you had with Grace without me," Harry shrugged; "The happiest days of your life, right?"

Snape kept his eyes upon him. And there was hurt in them.

Hurt, yes, but – Harry realised – it wasn't for himself.

It was for Harry.

Snape drew in a breath before he made the short distance towards him.

He came to a halt in from of him, looking at him consideringly – silent – for a moment while Harry just stared back at him.

Snape sighed, before he nodded.

"Alright."

Harry frowned.

"If that is your decision."

Harry drew in a breath. Uncertainty coming upon him, at Snape's concession – his permission to die - like the child he was, facing death.

Snape's hands went to his shoulders then, surprising him, and Harry looked up at him, searchingly.

Not entirely sure what Snape meant by it, at first.

Snape's gaze warmed and, rather than looking disappointed, now, Harry was sure he could see the tiniest flicker of pride.

"But you are _not_ doing this alone."

Harry's lip trembled, then, his eyes lowering.

Realising, only in that moment when the words were spoken, that that's all he'd wanted to hear.

That he wasn't facing this alone.

And then he felt Snape pull, only ever so slightly, but it was enough.

Enough for Harry to step forward and find it – comfort and strength and understanding – as Snape held him tight in his arms.

* * *

Regulus sat on the chair, staring out the window of his and Julia's bedroom, with the baby curled up asleep on his chest and Julia asleep – still having not regained consciousness – on the bed behind him.

A quiet knock on the open door had him glance in its direction; seeing Severus.

Regulus inclined his chin.

Severus stepped into the room, his glance going to Julia for a moment, and his tone was soft – softer than it would normally be – as he asked; "Has there been any change since I administered the potions?"

Regulus glanced at her.

"She's not so cold."

Still too cold for the baby not to cry when Regulus had tried to place him beside her, to see if his son might find comfort in the feel of his mother beside him.

Regulus didn't say that, elaborating no further – in no mood for conversing – and, instead, turned his glance back out the window.

Severus came over, taking the seat opposite – a sure sign that he planned on staying – and Regulus noticed his eyes on the baby when he looked back at him.

"Want to hold your new Godson?"

Severus met his eyes, his lips twitching; "I would not want to disturb him. Not when he is so content."

"Hm. Same couldn't be said for me, I'm assuming?"

Severus did smirk, then.

"Forgive the intrusion. You look anything but content, Regulus. _Brooding_ has never suited you."

Regulus fought a smile as he raised an eyebrow.

"Come to put me out of my misery then?"

Severus just stared at him – not smirking or fighting a smile this time – and Regulus nodded, knowing he'd guessed it right.

"The blood magic will work," Regulus said, assuredly, already knowing the answer. The reason Eugene had not struck him down, while he'd huddled over Julia's form; taunting him about reasons to live.

Severus glanced away.

Enough of a confirmation as any.

"Eugene said as much," Regulus told him; "After…"

Severus met his eyes.

Regulus looked back at him, expectantly.

Severus drew in a breath, before he nodded, confirming the truth.

Regulus stared at him; wondering why he didn't feel it.

There was no sense of triumph or success or gladness whatsoever that he'd been right. That he finally had the answers he'd been searching for, all these years.

It just was.

Regulus lowered his eyes as he touched his lips to the crown of his baby son's head, where he still slept soundly upon him – breathing him in for a moment – before he glanced over his shoulder at Julia.

She was no longer so pale, the blue tint of her features finally changing, back to that healthy pink they ought to be.

"Julia will live?"

Severus nodded.

"Yes."

Regulus tried for a smile.

It faltered but it was no means a reflection of disappointment – for Julia and his boys alive and happy and healthy was the most he could ever ask for – and he drew in a breath, before turning back to him.

"What did Eugene tell you?"

Severus held his look for a moment.

Before – with a flick of his wand – he closed the door.


	90. May 1996: Victory of the People

Regulus signed off the bottom of the parchment – adding a little PS. note with a small smile, despite what this was – before he folded the short letter in two – having written all that needed to be said, anything more than that just rambling things that Julia already _knew_ – and then he wrote her name across the front of it.

Regulus lifted his wand and charmed it with the same enchantment that he had done with Malachi's letter, some years before, when he'd written those final words to his son.

He pulled open the drawer of the bureau – seeing Malachi's letter where it still lay hidden beneath some parchment – and tucked Julia's in behind it, along with the one he'd written to his new – as yet, nameless – son who would never know him.

Regulus' fingertips lingered upon them; the letters that would be delivered, tomorrow, assuming Severus' plan worked.

And then his eyes went to his wife where she still lay, soundly, upon the bed behind him, having not yet woken.

A coo and a little cry sounded, from the bassinet that Regulus had set up beside her, summoning his father.

Regulus chuckled, closing the drawer of the bureau and headed over, immediately met with the wide, curious eyes of their newborn.

"Hey, Little Sprout," Regulus greeted him, before he reached down, and lifted him up into his arms.

* * *

"I mean…you'd do it too, right?"

Malachi stared back at Harry.

"Um…"

Sure, Malachi liked to _think_ he'd do it – though, most likely, he'd just die from fright before Voldemort could get anywhere near him – but that didn't make it any _better,_ hearing that Harry was going to actually die.

Malachi fought back the urge to protest – to ask why their parents weren't actually _doing_ _something_ about this – but he could tell, just by looking at Harry, now, that it'd be the wrong thing to say.

Malachi gave a slight shrug, as close to an agreement as he could, before drawing in a breath; "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow," Harry said, calmly, as if he were just heading off to run some silly errands or something; "Dunno why we can't just do it now but..."

"Oh."

Malachi knew he wasn't being helpful _._

He just had no idea what to say.

Malachi scrambled for something – anything – that might make this a tiny bit better – a little bit okay – but he knew that he couldn't.

He knew that, from tomorrow, life was going to be –

Malachi pushed that thought aside, remembering his dad's words – what he'd always taught him – to live for now, not for the future, and reached for something else instead.

"My dad got a boat when he bought this place, mind," Malachi told him, before nodding at the window of his room that looked out over the lake; "For us, so he could take us fishing. I could ask him to. Before you go?"

Harry glanced to the side, out the window – a longing look in his eyes, then, as he was reminded of his own dad – before back at Malachi, speaking softly; "You wouldn't mind?"

Malachi tried to smile – but it struggled to come, not really convincing when it eventually did, being reminded of Emma, especially after what Harry had just told him – and he shook his head; "Nah."

Harry smiled – just as sadly as Malachi knew his was – before he nodded; "Yeah. Let's go fishing. But – um – first I've gotta help Grace with something."

Malachi hesitated, knowing – wanting – to hug him, but he could tell Harry – like him – was barely holding it together as it was, so he didn't – he'd wait until tomorrow – and nodded, before the two of them headed out of his bedroom.

Harry went to the stairs, heading down, while Malachi lingered, watching him leave, before he went to the threshold of his dad and Julia's room.

Julia remained unconscious upon the bed, despite all the potions and spells Severus had been working on her with the day before.

But she looked better – her breathing stronger and her skin pinker and there was none of that horrible blueness about her lips and her eyes, anymore – and his dad and Severus both seemed convinced that she was going to be fine.

Evident, by his dad's gradually improving mood.

Malachi smiled, when his eyes went to his dad, who was sat in the chair by the window with the baby lying on his knees – awake – while his dad spoke in a hushed, animated voice to him, a quiet sing-song of a tune coming, after a moment, as his dad playfully patted up his chest to his chin with a finger.

Malachi stepped into the room, making his way over, and his dad stopped humming and looked up at his footsteps; smiling as soon as he saw it was him.

"Aha, look here, Son. If it isn't your big brother."

Malachi smiled, while his dad flicked his wand, transfiguring the table in front of the window into a chair, and Malachi sat down upon it, facing him.

His eyes went to the baby – his brother – his smile warming even more when he looked at him.

"Did you and Julia pick a name? Before?"

"Marceline."

Malachi chuckled, while his dad nodded, grinning as he glanced back down at the baby.

"I was entirely convinced you were getting a sister."

"You disappointed?"

His dad shot him a look.

"No," he said, before stroking the baby's cheek with a finger; "No. I could never be disappointed. Not in either of you."

Malachi smiled, rolling his eyes; "So, he's just gonna stay 'Little Sprout', then?"

His dad lifted the baby up, cradling him to his chest, as he leaned back in the chair, "Well, did his big brother happen to have a suggestion?"

Malachi grinned, shrugging.

"Maybe."

His dad raised his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips, before lifting his chin, indicating he go on.

"Um…"

"Um?"

Malachi shrugged, chuckling a bit; "Nicholas."

His dad didn't look entirely convinced, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Nicholas? Like Flamel?" his dad grinned, then, before leaning forward towards him, while still cradling his brother close; "Now, Son, is immortality _really_ something we ought to aspire to?"

Malachi rolled his eyes, before leaning forward, himself, going nose to nose with his dad.

"It _means_ Victory of the People."

His dad stared back at him, his grin fading, so that it became just the ghost of a smile, as he looked back at him, consideringly.

"Huh," his dad finally said, before lowering the baby in his arms slightly to look at him. His dad's smile turned cheeky, then, as he spoke to him; "Well. _That_ is almost as heavy a burden to bear as immortality."

The baby cooed, wiggling a little in his dad's hands.

His dad chuckled, nodding – "Nicholas"– before he pressed a kiss to the baby's forehead, whispering against it; "Pending Mummy's approval."

His dad carefully got to his feet, smiling at Malachi and giving a nod.

Malachi straightened up, eagerly, and his dad carefully placed his brother into his arms.

Malachi looked down at him – amazed at how he didn't seem to weigh anything at all – before he looked up at his dad, nervously.

"Am I doing it right?"

His dad smiled, nodding slowly – looking fond and proud and sure – before he said, as he gazed at the two of them; "Perfect."

His dad leaned down, pressing a kiss to Malachi's forehead, before he stepped away and headed from the room.

* * *

Lily could scarcely hold back her disbelief at what Severus was telling her.

" _Eugene Hopkins!_ I can't believe you're actually going along with this. What if it doesn't work – what if Dumbledore was wrong and Harry actually – what if it _does_ work? Did the two of you even think about what I'm supposed to tell Julia when she wakes up? Or _Malachi?"_

"Do you think I want this, Lily?"

She stared back at Severus – the edge taken, somewhat, off of her outburst by the look in his eyes – before he went on.

"He's my brother."

Lily released a breath, her eyes closing, when she realized, then, what Severus must be going through – and she tried not to think, with a sting, about Harry's accusations a few days before – before she met his eyes.

"And Harry? He'll lose his magic. We'd be taking it from him."

Severus reached out, a hand squeezing her shoulder.

"Better than his life. He will _live_ , Lily. That is what matters. That he will live and see the end of this war. Dumbledore's plan _will_ work."

Before she could say anything further – to protest, because _that_ was certainly something to be debated – Regulus stepped into the room, giving them a nod – the three of them having arranged that they'd discuss this, once they'd gotten the kids distracted – and Lily reluctantly followed Severus to join Regulus at the table.

She uttered the charm under her breath – ' _muffliato'_ – just incase any of them should decide to eavesdrop, as Severus explained – again – how this absurd plan was supposed to work.

She and Regulus sat at the table, silently, as he ran it all down.

"With the students at Hogwarts returning home, early, today for the summer, we should be able to proceed as planned tomorrow. You've alerted Lupin?"

Lily gave a reluctant nod, conceding that he – along with the other Hogwarts professors – would be expecting them, while Severus carried on.

Lily remained silent, until she could do so, no longer.

"It has to be the Dark Lord. That is the only way that Harry will survive –"

"If he survives at all," Lily bit out; "If Albus is to be believed –"

"You saw how he protected Harry the night Hogwarts fell," Severus said, calmly – reassuringly, even – as if Lily were being unreasonable, but it failed in his intentions; "He would not have him die by the hand of anyone other than the Dark Lord – for, should he fall by his hand – he will live."

"Severus…that's not a chance I'm willing to take –"

"You heard Harry, Lily –"

"I certainly did –"

"If we don't allow him to do this – if we do not guide him into the _correct_ way of doing so – the chances of him being truly lost to us only increases."

Lily shook her head.

"We have been through too much, Severus – we have _put him_ through too much – to even take the chance that he won't survive. And Dumbledore's _belief_ is based on circumstances that have not once – not even _once –_ occurred, in the course of magical history –"

"We could bind the life forces," Regulus suggested, interrupting them, making Severus' eyes darken in annoyance as he turned to him.

"We already discussed this at Christmas, Regulus."

"We did, but what difference does it make now? In order to enact the Ancestral Call, I'd have to die, anyway – willingly – and doing this is as _willing_ as it gets. We already know it would work; the Bonds of Blood charm has been utilized for centuries – protecting a person, rather than just property. It's the obvious strategy," he broke off, before adding, lightly; "Not to mention it beats poison."

Severus looked at Regulus for a moment, consideringly, before meeting Lily's eyes – a question in his gaze when he did – and she drew in a breath – knowing that solution was certainly far more fool-proof than relying on Dumbledore's unproven deductions – before she met Regulus' eyes, inclining her chin, gratefully.

Severus cleared his throat, lifting his eyebrows, not looking at either of them when he went on.

"Then it's settled. The life forces will be bound between Harry and Regulus – enacted through the bonds of blood charm – so that upon the Dark Lord's casting of the Killing Curse, Regulus will take the place of Harry in the afterlife, in a mirror of what happened with his brother –"

Severus recited it, as if he were simply reading it all from a textbook, while Lily met Regulus' eyes, uncertainly.

He gave her a smile – an assurance that he was actually on board with this – before turning his full attention back to Severus.

"Harry will still go before the Dark Lord –"

"Why –"

"Because two chances at survival are better than one," Severus pointed out; "And, with the Dark Lord believing in the moment that Harry rises that he has fallen, Harry will gain the upper hand of surprise – along with the Black Ancestral Magic – which he will need in order to be successful in eliminating him."

Lily pressed a hand to her forehead.

It wasn't the first time she'd heard it – the plan – and, yet, it was still as horrifying now, as it had been then.

"Upon the Dark Lord's arrival, we can expect that he will attempt to eliminate Harry with haste and – with Harry not making any attempt to survive - the Killing Curse will be cast. At which point, Regulus will die –" he said it bluntly, swiftly, a continuing recitation; " – and the Blood Magic will be evoked – the call of the Black Ancestral Magic will be channeled through Regulus, with his sacrifice, and Harry will then have the ability to wield the collective power of the Black Ancestors and he – along with the gathered Order members we have contacted, and our other allies and Hogwarts professors – will eliminate the Dark Lord and any Death Eaters who refuse to denounce him when we do."

Regulus nodded; "Voldemort isn't going to be coming to Hogwarts expecting a full-scale battle. He'll think he's just coming for Harry; he might not even bring them all."

Severus inclined his chin; "So long as he brings _himself_ , that is all that matters."

Lily pressed her fingers to her eyelids – eyes squeezed shut – _hating_ this and was just about to turn to Regulus this time – to mention Julia and his own family – when Malachi's voice called down the stairs; "Dad!"

Regulus got to his feet and headed swiftly to the stairs, disappearing out of sight.

Lily sighed, getting to her feet, and stepped away from the table, going to the counter.

Severus followed.

"Lily."

She drew in a breath, before she turned to face him.

Severus reached up – his stoicism leaving along with Regulus, it seemed – and he looked just as apprehensive as she felt. Which, in all honesty, didn't exactly make her feel any _better_ about all of this and only highlighted the gravity of what was coming their way tomorrow.

"Harry was right, Severus," Lily said, lifting her shoulders; "I've put him through so much – we have put our family through _so much –_ for this war and for a future that we never even really knew we'd be able to give them. It was cruel. I always wondered if it was but…"

She didn't say the rest of it – the thought – that, maybe, they _had_ been wrong and everyone else who'd told them otherwise – Harry, Remus, Sirius, even Severus, himself, in the beginning – had been right.

That the pain and the lies and the deception wouldn't be worth it.

That she'd lose her son for it.

She'd never, of course, believed that would be literal– that Harry would die – always convinced that, so long as her children were safe and happy and _alive,_ that it _would_ be worth it.

That she'd fight for it.

But now, at the end of the road she'd drawn him down, Harry was anything but those things.

And she couldn't – in good faith – say that her son's declaration that it hadn't been worth it was wrong.

Not if he didn't come back to them, tomorrow.

Lily pressed a hand to her eyes, feeling the tears that threatened to fall, when she finally allowed herself to wonder – to doubt – and Severus stepped in closer, his hands going to her arms and his lips pressing to her hair.

"Lily."

They lingered, there, just as they stood. Her leaning on him, plagued with doubt and grief at what was to come and regret for all that had passed.

Knowing that, even if Harry did – as he must – survive what was to happen tomorrow; her son had been long ago lost to her.

Losing him all along, just as Sirius and Remus had warned her she was, and she had been too stubborn to even realize it.

"Daddy!"

They drew apart as Grace ran into the room.

"Can we go outside, you and me? You said you'd show me the plants we use in potions, remember?"

"I was under the impression your brother was going to be entertaining you for the afternoon," Severus said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Grace shrugged; "I think he's sad. Can we go?"

"Where is he?" Lily asked, frowningly.

"Malachi's room. By himself," Grace told them, before heading up and taking Severus by the hand; "Please?"

Severus nodded, before his eyes found Lily's once more, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, before allowing Grace to pull him from the house.

Lily hesitated a moment before she headed around the counter and into the kitchen, setting about making a sandwich.

A silly excuse to go up – as if she needed one to speak with her own son – particularly considering Regulus' house elf would be more than capable of doing so and would be summoned by Harry if he were actually hungry.

Still, Lily carried on, doing it all the muggle way – turning to the muggle ways of her childhood, of her own mother, always having a way of soothing her – and she headed over to the cupboard, pulling it open, and reached up to tug down the chopping board that was up there, hoping there was enough of the food left that Remus had given them in the cooling unit.

As she drew it down, pulling a little more roughly than necessary, a folded picture fluttered down along with it – as if it had been hidden – that Lily caught in the air.

It was a magical one – the picture moving – and Lily found herself surprised but smiling as she looked at the person within it.

Sirius Black – so very young – lifted his chin at the camera, a twinkle in his eyes and a smile playing on his lips, oozing self-assuredness as he looked back at her.

Lily chuckled, fondly, and shook her head before she reached up – unfolding where it had been folded in half – and – even though it would obviously be him with his arm flung around Sirius' shoulders – Lily was still not entirely prepared to be met with the sight of James' smile.

His laughter lit his features, as it always had, and his eyes sparkled within the frames of his glasses – so _alive_ – where he stood at Sirius' side.

It was almost jarring, just how alike he and their son looked, now that Harry was almost grown – sixteen, in just a couple of months – but, even that, wasn't what startled her.

It was all the memories that came to her in that moment, as she looked upon James' face – reminded of all she'd desperately clung to, in the aftermath of losing him – the reality and the fantasy; spurned on by Harry's accusations the day before.

The unwelcome – unrealized – truths of what her son had endured for her pain.

Lily refolded the picture, tucking it back into the spot she hoped Regulus had hidden it, before she closed the door of the cupboard and – forging her previous task – headed upstairs.

* * *

"What's the matter?"

Malachi turned where he stood near the door – his brother still cradled in his arms – when his dad hurried into the room.

"It's Julia – I think she's waking up."

His dad looked at her – seeing her stir, ever-so-slightly – before he made the short distance to the bed, sitting down at her side.

He heard his dad murmur, calling her name, softly, as he stroked her hair, while the baby cooed in Malachi's arms.

He grinned down at him, giving him a gentle bounce in his arms – he could get used to this, easily – and then he glanced up when he heard a hoarse murmur – Julia's voice – speak to his dad.

"There she is," his dad said, with a small smile, when her eyes met his.

Malachi smiled – awash with the same relief he could see on his dad's face – before turning away slightly to give them a bit of privacy, and carried on fussing over his baby brother – tried his best not to think about Harry and all he'd told him earlier – and touched his lips to his forehead, while the hushed murmurs carried on behind him.

"Malachi."

He glanced at them, when his dad called his name, and – when he did – his dad motion that he come over.

He did – walking carefully, because he kept imagining he'd trip or something and drop the baby – and he smiled when he saw the way Julia's eyes eagerly sought the bundle in his arms.

Malachi started to pass him to his dad, but his dad got up, moving aside, so that Malachi could do it; so he sat down in the spot his dad had just stood from to pass the baby over to Julia.

Her eyes glimmered like his dad's had done, when she finally had their son in her arms, and Malachi smiled again.

"He looks like Dad, doesn't he?"

Julia smiled, her eyes all for the baby, as she nodded.

His dad chuckled, then, putting an arm around Malachi's shoulders; "Actually I think he looks far more like his big brother."

"Mhm," Julia nodded, lifting her eyebrows, before she smiled at Malachi; "He's perfect. Spoiled again."

Malachi grinned in turn, getting a little blush, before he felt his dad press a kiss to the top of his head.

The four of them huddled close together.

* * *

Harry glanced up from where he was lying on the bed, when he heard the door to Malachi's room click open, only mildly surprised to see his mum.

There was a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes when he looked at her.

"Can I come in?"

Harry nodded, reluctantly pushing himself up so that he was sitting by the time his mum closed the door and headed over to him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside him.

A heavy silence hung over them – as if neither knew what to say – and Harry wondered if he should apologise for what he'd said to her the day before.

But he'd meant it, even if he'd regretted saying it aloud – only really realizing when he did how much all of it still hurt, his mum and his dad and Snape – and it made him falter, not taking any of it back, and, when his mum met his eyes he realized he wasn't going to have to.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart."

Harry stared back at her, surprised.

His mum drew in a breath, glancing away for a moment – as if collecting herself – before she went on. Words that Harry could tell weren't coming easy.

"Harry. When we lost your father, I was so…lost," she lifted her shoulders, and her eyes glimmered when she met his; "I was so lost and young and afraid. He and I – with you – had this… _dream_ of a future that we were going to have. And when he was taken from us…I didn't know how to live without him," her eyes lowered, and she added, in a quiet tone that was almost ashamed; "I didn't want to."

Harry swallowed, unsure of what to say.

It was something he could remember. He'd heard the fights – his mum and his Uncle Sirius and Remus – and he'd seen it all. The way his mum fought for his dad, every day, back then.

The same way she fought for Snape now.

"You deserved better than that," his mum went on, more assuredly; "And I am so sorry, Harry."

Harry drew in a breath, before nodding slightly.

Just hearing his mum say it – admit it – even though Harry had known it for a long time made it a tiny bit better. Which was more than he expected he ever would about it.

"But, Harry," his mum tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning forward, so that he had no choice but to look at her; "You once said that you weren't enough for me. I need you to know that _that_ has never been true. _You_ were the reason I got up every morning and you were the reason that I fought so hard and you were the reason that I finally realized I had to let go. I don't want you to ever think that you weren't enough for me – for you to carry something like that – because…I _know_ how that feels. Harry, after we lost your dad…I was so scared that _I_ wasn't ever going to be enough for _you_. That I wouldn't be able to give you all that your dad and I had pictured for you."

Harry sniffed, only realizing then that a tear had trickled, and he wiped at it, glancing away.

"I know you deserve so much more than what I've given you. I know that this life – now – was built on things that weren't fair to you. I thought we'd have more. I thought I'd be giving you the life I always dreamed of for you – the family I know you so desperately wanted – and I _wanted_ you to have the world. I am so, so sorry about what is happening now. If I could change anything…"

"Then we wouldn't have Grace," Harry pointed out, before lifting his shoulders.

He sighed, swiping at another rogue tear.

"You did give me a family, Mum. You gave me a sister. And…I just wish that I'd be able to be there for the whole thing. That's all."

"I know, Sweetheart."

Harry looked back at her – his mum – and finally, for the first time, he got it.

How she must have felt – the future she'd imagined, that she'd been _living_ with his dad, being snatched from her fingertips – when the war had come for them. His mum and his dad and _him._

How it was threatening to do the same, now, when she'd fought so hard to try and find another life worth living, to move on, and give him and Grace that dream.

How the war _would_ do the same when Harry walked away from them tomorrow.

Leaving her with his words of how much she'd hurt him; how he didn't believe it had been worth it at all.

Harry closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Harry whispered, "You deserved the world, too."

His mum broke down then, hanging her head for a second, as her own tears came, before she reached for him.

The two of them hugging one another tight.

Finally, truly, seeing one another for the first time since their world had come crashing down, so many years before.

* * *

Harry was still shaken by the encounter with his mum, a few hours later, when he stood before Snape in the basement.

It was nothing like the basement at home – Malachi's one almost entirely empty – save for two chairs that Snape had clearly set up for them, and a workbench in the corner where a cauldron bubbled with some unknown potion.

And a rectangular object - that Harry was quite certain was a portrait - which was covered with a blanket and propped up in the corner of the room.

"I don't understand," Harry lifted his shoulders; "Why can't you just do it? Why does it have to be him?"

"As the creator of the horcrux –"

"See, that's the thing. If I'm his horcrux – keeping him alive – why does he want me dead? Shouldn't he want me _alive_ , so that he can't die?"

"The Dark Lord is unaware of your connection. What happened – as far as we can conclude – was entirely an accident. One that the Dark Lord, himself, remains in ignorance of. And the Dark Lord's ignorance is to our advantage."

"Right," Harry shot him a look; "If he's the only one who can destroy it, last thing we want is for him to change his mind."

Snape returned his look, evenly.

"If you wish to reconsider –"

"I don't."

Harry sighed, glancing away; "I don't. Let's…alright. Let's just get on with it, then. What's the plan?"

"We need to lure the Dark Lord out. You, yourself, may not be a big enough draw – in the past, he has always dispatched his Death Eaters to fetch you – this time, we are going to ensure that he is pursuing something which he is unwilling to leave in the hands of any other."

"What's that?"

"His other horcruxes."

"His other…he has _other_ horcruxes?"

"Indeed. Seven, including yourself."

Harry stared at Snape in shock.

"But…if there's more…how can we –?"

"The other's – with the exception of one – have already been destroyed. Though the Dark Lord is, currently, unaware of the fact. Once again, his ignorance remains our advantage."

"How am I supposed to use them to lure him out if they're already destroyed?"

Snape's lips twitched; "Because you are going to convince him that they are – not only still intact – but that they are also within your very own possession."

"Uh…" Harry frowned in bewilderment; "Again. How am I supposed to do that?"

"Legillimency."

Harry stared back at him, not entirely sure what Snape was suggesting, but he realized enough to guess; "You want me to…send him a message, through our heads?"

"Precisely. Although, the Dark Lord must not be aware you are doing so, intentionally. Which is where this evening's summons comes in. You still remember, I trust, how to utilize the skill?"

"Legillimency?" Harry swallowed – remembering how he'd used it against Mr. Black, with almost ease – and he nodded; "Yeah."

"Good."

Snape leaned back in his chair, looking at Harry, expectantly.

Harry hesitated – but only for a second – when he realized what Snape was asking him to do, before he lifted his wand and met Snape's look, dead-on, speaking the incantation almost in a whisper.

"Legillimens."

It was easy – Snape already having prepared and pushing forward what he wanted Harry to see – and, within a second, Harry was met with the sight of what he knew was Dumbledore's – Snape's – desk, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

And before him on the desk was the Sword of Gryffindor, along with five other items.

A destroyed, blackened diary that he remembered.

A cracked locket. A broken ring.

A cup. A diadem.

The last two were still intact.

Harry was pushed, gently, from Snape's mind, seeing no more.

Harry frowned, looking back at Snape, when his vision refocused.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

" _That_ is the vision that you will be sending to the Dark Lord."

* * *

"That's it, then?" Regulus raised his eyebrows at Severus, who stood opposite him in the basement.

Severus inclined his chin; "The life forces are bound – do try not to engage in any risky activities this evening, if you could, there are still some final steps that I have to see to this evening, in preparing to evoke the Ancestral Magic – and Harry is aware of the steps he needs to take tomorrow, for this to be a success."

Severus capped the phial of blood that Regulus had – he'd believed, fruitlessly – taken from Harry earlier that year, when they'd sought to find a way to utilize the blood wards to protect the Foundation.

That – now – just may be enough to protect Harry and, in doing so, finally rid the Wizarding World of Voldemort, once and for all.

Regulus gave a nod; "Well. If that's all you needed me for."

Severus stared at him for a second, before he reached into his robes and pulled out another small vial, holding it out to him.

Regulus took it, eyeing it.

Knowing well enough what it was, without needing to ask.

"Should the binding fail," Severus said, simply.

Regulus nodded, giving Severus a wry smile and holding up the vial – the poison – and nodded; "Much obliged."

Severus lips twitched, humourlessly.

"Likewise, Regulus."

The two of them held one another's gaze for a second – neither of them particularly good at this – before Regulus just nodded, tucking it into his robe and heading from the room.

Back up both flights of stairs to his and Julia's bedroom.

The baby slept soundly – as he often did, thus far, unlike his brother had at that age – and Julia, too, remained sound asleep, despite the relatively early hour.

Still exhausted, the after effects of the curse that Severus said was entirely expected.

Regulus considered, then, going to Malachi – knowing he'd surely be awake in his room – but he felt rattled enough by what had just occurred with Severus – the final steps taken – that he didn't quite trust himself under those curious, clever eyes of his son at that moment.

So, he went to Julia, instead, and lay down beside her on the bed, facing her.

Simply drinking up the sight of his wife asleep beside him; the last night he'd ever be able to do so.

But he couldn't complain.

They'd already stolen so many more nights than he'd ever dreamed they'd have.

Julia stirred, then, her eyes opening and finding his.

She frowned, blearily, as she looked back at him, while Regulus simply gazed at her in turn like the – still – lovestruck fool he was.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Regulus tried for a smile.

"Loving you."

Julia's smile faded away as she looked back at him.

Knowing right away that something was wrong.

Regulus nodded, lowering his eyes, before he drew her close; murmured an apology into her hair before he told her, too.

The truth of what this all was; that he'd been telling her from the beginning.

One more night.

* * *

"But, I thought I heard Mummy and Daddy say it wasn't safe at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. Soon it will be."

"But…if you go _back_ does that mean you're not going to be coming home again for a long time?" Grace lifted her head from the grass, where she and Harry were lying outside under the stars, to look at him with a pout; "I like having you here with Mummy and Daddy, all of us at the same time."

Harry gave her a smile – even if the statement stung – and nodded; "I do, too, Grace."

"How long will you be away?"

"Doesn't matter how long, right? Even just one day and I'd be missing you like crazy."

Grace smiled, rolling over and propping her head up in her hand to face him; "I'll miss you, too."

"Hmph. Should hope so."

Grace chuckled.

"If I don't, will you come back and give me a row?"

"Here's hoping, right?"

Grace's eyes gleamed with mischief, a look that Harry would miss so much, would cling to; his little sister who deserved the very best of everything.

She didn't need to have any of it ruined by missing him.

Harry cleared his throat, before he lifted a finger and pointed at the sky above.

"We have an Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. Whenever I miss you, I'm going to go up there and look at the stars."

"Which one?"

Harry found it above, getting a smaller smile then.

As he realised and thought of those who were going to be waiting on the other side.

His Uncle Sirius.

His dad.

And how he wasn't going to be alone there, either.

"Sirius," Harry told her.

Grace looked up, eyes seeking it.

"You see it? Mr. Black showed us, remember. The brightest star in the sky."

"Yeah," Grace nodded, her smile coming slowly, before she looked thoughtful, too, and then looked back at him; "I'll do it too. When I miss you, I'll look up at Sirius and wish really hard. And, maybe, then it'll bring you home."

Harry's breath trembled as he breathed out, eyes still on the star above.

"Yeah. Maybe he will."


	91. May 1996: The Edge of Goodbye

Voices and laughter carried on the breeze to where Grace sat on the step of the porch.

She watched as Harry and Malachi joked about on the boat, as Mr. Black rowed them back to shore now that it was almost time for Harry to go.

Everyone was sad today.

Especially her mum.

Even more sad than she used to be, every year through the last week of the summer, when Harry would be all excited getting ready to go back to Hogwarts and Malachi and all the people who waited for him there.

Harry didn't seem all that excited today, though, to be going back.

Grace guessed it was because Malachi wasn't going with him too – which Grace didn't really understand – but Harry smiled, sometimes, especially when he caught her looking.

As if he wanted her to stay happy.

Or, at least, staying pretending that she was.

Grace glanced over her shoulder, through the window that looked into the kitchen, and she could see her mum holding the new baby and talking to Julia – looking even more sad, now that she thought it was just them in there – and Julia stepped forward, giving her a hug.

Grace frowned, looking back in the direction of the boat that was close to the bank now.

The door behind her opened and her dad came out.

"Hi, Daddy."

Her dad followed her gaze, before he gave her a slight smile.

"Had you hoped to join your brother on his fishing trip this afternoon?"

Grace screwed up her face; "No. _Yuck_."

Her dad made a small puff, like a laugh, before caressing the back of her head, as he looked back out over at where the boat was coming in.

"I trust you will be on your best behaviour this afternoon for Mr. and Mrs. Black."

"Why can't I go with you to Hogwarts with Harry?"

"Because your presence is needed here."

"My presence?"

"Indeed. With Julia only this morning back on her feet, I'm sure she would appreciate your assistance with tending to the newborn."

Grace's eyes immediately lit up; "Really?"

"If you should offer, I'm sure she would appreciate it."

Grace was a bit confused – after all, Mr. Black was staying, too, and he'd managed just fine with the baby before Julia woke up – but she never said that, delighted to get to help with him.

The door opened again and Julia stepped out, along with her mum – the baby back in Julia's arms now – and she hurried up to her; "Julia! Can I help look after the baby with you?"

Julia smiled, nodding, her hand going to her shoulder as Grace reached her side – looking eagerly at the sleeping baby when she did – before Julia said; "Oh, I would _love_ that, Honey. Thank you. I hope you know what you're getting yourself in for."

Julia gave her a wink.

Grace smiled, widely, just as her mum knelt in front of her.

The redness about her eyes made Grace's delight dim a bit, as her mum caressed her cheek; "You be good for Julia, alright? No trouble. We'll be back soon."

Grace nodded; "I will, Mummy."

She was suddenly engulfed in a tight hug, a kiss pressed to the side of her head, and Grace hugged her back, guessing it was her mum who needed such a big hug right now, after how sad she looked.

"Lily."

Her mum drew back at the sound of her dad's voice, before she gave Grace another smile and got to her feet.

The two of them headed away, leaving Grace where she stood with Julia, going to meet with the others who were coming back from the boat, who had now walked close enough that Grace could hear bits of what they were saying from where she stood.

"Thank you, Mr. Black," Harry said, facing him, "For taking us out."

"Oh. It was my pleasure," Mr. Black said, giving him a smile.

"Guess I'm still pretty rubbish at it, though," Harry chuckled, without much humour, giving a shrug; "No fish."

"Makes three of us," Malachi grinned, sharing a look with his dad.

Harry glanced at their mum, where she and her dad had stopped a few feet away, before he looked back at Mr. Black and Malachi; "Guess – um…guess I'll see you…"

Grace wasn't sure if Harry just spoke too quietly for her to hear, or if he actually didn't say anything at all, but whatever he meant made Malachi step forward and hug him, just as tightly as her mum had just done to her before she went away.

Grace frowned, knowing for sure, then, that something was wrong.

It seemed like they hugged for ages before Malachi drew back.

Mr. Black's arm went around Malachi's shoulders, while his free one lifted, putting a hand on one of Harry's; "We're with you, Harry."

Harry smiled at him.

Understanding way more than Grace did about what Malachi's dad meant.

And then he noticed Grace watching and he raised his eyebrows.

"Remember the stars, Grace."

Grace smiled and nodded.

And then her dad stepped forward, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, and drew him away.

The two of them and her mum making their way from the house.

Grace watched after them, with another frown, when she could see that even as they walked away – without Harry's usual Hogwarts luggage – that they all still looked sad.

"Alright then," Mr. Black said, drawing Grace's gaze back to him, and he smiled, brightly, drawing Malachi up to the porch; "I managed to make a little trip down into the village this morning to pick up some of those cakes you love –" he said to Malachi, making his lips twitch a little; " _And_ I dug out those boardgames – the muggle ones – there were such a big hit last year. What do you say, Grace?"

"Yes!" Grace grinned, widely, while Julia and Mr. Black chuckled, as they headed into the house.

But, as they did, Grace glanced over her shoulder; noticing the tear Malachi swiped at that slipped down his cheek as he followed them.

And she knew that this was just going to be another afternoon of pretending.

* * *

There was a heavy silence upon the three of them, as they carefully made their way into the village of Hogsmeade – in daylight, as the curfew preventing them doing so, unnoticed, by dark – and it was odd, to be huddled in so close to Snape.

His mum was unrecognisable – having taken Polyjuice which turned her blonde haired and blue eyed – as she walked along beside them, guiding them the way they needed to be.

Insisting that – as she'd moved this way, frequently, in the months of warfare – she'd be less likely to give them away.

Much to Snape's annoyance.

Harry could sense it, still, from where the two of them were concealed beneath the cloak, together.

His mum guided them through the doors of the Hog's Head tavern – careful to halt and keep the door open long enough for them to follow – before she smiled, warmly, at someone who was sitting a little way away, nursing a drink at a table.

Harry felt his heart leap at the sight of his Uncle Remus.

Remus seemed to know who she was, despite the Polyjuice – her smile enough of a hint – and he slowly finished up the rest of his drink so as not to draw too much attention, before he got to his feet.

He gave a nod to someone behind the bar – someone who made Harry do a double-take, for his eyes were so familiar, so blue, that he was sure he'd seen them somewhere before – and then Remus was upon them.

"Come with me," he said, quietly, before he led them away to another room.

There were no more words spoken – much too risky – the three of them just following where Remus led.

It wasn't until they were within a passage – concealed behind a portrait – that anyone spoke.

That anyone being himself, mind-boggled by the discovery of this secret passage that he was certain he'd never seen upon the Marauders' Map.

"This leads into Hogwarts?" Harry found himself asking, unable to help himself, flinging the Invisibility Cloak from himself – no longer needing the cover – as they headed through it.

Remus glanced over his shoulder, his smile for him wide as they carried on; "Well, hello there."

Harry grinned, "Hi, Uncle Remus."

"It's good to hear that voice," Remus said, warmly, still carrying on in his steps up ahead of them; "Yes. Following the destruction of the Foundation, the survivors who weren't captured scattered. Minerva and I were hopeful that we would be able to assist and, just as we thought it – that a safe haven would be needed to take care of those now on the run – the answer came to us in the form of a room. One that has been mostly whispered about in the past, but we have managed to put it…quite to good use."

As Remus finished saying so, he climbed up a few steps that led to another door at the end of the passage and pushed it open, before stepping through.

His mum – still Polyjuiced – followed.

There were voices, Harry realised, hearing them as he approached and jumped down.

"Harry Potter!"

"Harry!"

There were familiar faces everywhere – students, muggleborns, and those who Harry knew from the Foundation – but, before he could really take them all in, he was suddenly pounced on and embraced tightly by Hermione.

"Harry! Thank goodness you're alright."

Harry chuckled, hugging her back, and he met Ron's eyes over her shoulder.

Smiling in relief at seeing them both safe and well.

The excited chatter – the thrill of the room – suddenly died away.

Harry frowned, drawing back from Hermione's arms, turning to look at what had caused the hush.

And he realised, then, all eyes were upon Snape where he now stood – entirely visible – only a few feet in from the passage.

There were mutters – whispers – and Harry could hear a few of them amongst the crowd.

" _Greasy git."_

" _Got a nerve…"_

" _Murdered Dumbledore…"_

Harry stepped slightly in front of him, looking at them all, most of them fellow students but not all.

Some of the hostile glances were from others – Order Members – and Harry could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall all exhibiting the same distrust of him.

"He's been on our side," Harry said, certainly, "He's been one of us, all along."

The looks were still sceptical – but the whispers stopped – and Harry wasn't sure if that was because his words had made a difference – that they believed him – or if they just silenced out of respect for Harry, rather than Snape.

But his thoughts died away when someone – someone wonderfully familiar and welcome – stepped through the crowd, coming to him.

Daphne.

Harry released a breath, going to her, and hugged her tight.

Both of them ignoring the murmured 'awws' and snickers – for a moment it was only they two in the room – before Harry drew back to look at her, simply drinking in the sight of her here and safe before him.

And then he shot a look at all those who were unashamedly staring and the crowd dispersed, a joviality in the air, now, though there were still many less-than-friendly looks shot Snape's way as they all returned to various points throughout the huge room that seemed to resemble the inside of a ship deck; hammocks hanging from the ceiling and House banners flying in all four corners.

Harry turned back to Daphne, smiling at her, despite what today was supposed to be.

Pushing that aside for now.

"You alright?"

She nodded, before she sighed and kissed him.

Harry drew her close; waiting to make their last one count.

They lingered in one another's embrace for some time – not really long enough, though – while he could hear the murmurs of conversation behind him.

His mum and Snape and Remus and Professor McGonagall and Tonks – the only person who hadn't looked at Snape with lingering loathing – and the Weasley's speaking quietly amongst themselves.

Until, too soon, the voices stopped, and Harry knew it was time.

Harry fingered the bracelet on Daphne's wrist – the red and green beads and the owl and the dog – before he met her eyes.

And then he reached up, caressing her cheek, before he kissed her again, unable to help himself – so the last wasn't the last – and whispered, his lips close to hers when he did; needing her to know.

"I love you."

Daphne looked back at him, looking both surprised and delighted, but before she could say anything, Harry felt his mum's hand on his shoulder, and he allowed himself to be drawn away.

She took him to one of the further corners – the one closest to the door that Harry realised would lead out into the corridors of the school – and Snape followed, Remus and Tonks going to the door but not leaving.

Waiting for him, Harry realised.

"Guess this is it, then," Harry said, lightly, when he and his mum faced one another.

Time for goodbye.

His mum struggled, Harry could tell, her bottom lip trembling, slightly. But she drew in a breath – kept herself composed – and she squeezed each of his elbows in her hands.

"You're so brave," she whispered, "And so good. You've always seen everything, so much more clearly than I ever did, my darling. I love you so much."

Harry smiled – fighting back his own tears – and he stepped in, letting her hold him and him holding her, in turn, not really sure who needed it the most.

"Severus is going to go with you," she whispered, holding him; "Just to the door."

Harry nodded, meeting Snape's eyes, gratefully.

Before he stepped away, not meeting his mum's eyes again – nor Daphne's – fearing he might not be able to go through with it if he did.

He felt Snape's hand on his shoulder as they made their way to the door – eyes upon them, now, even if most within the room had no idea what was really going on – and then they stopped, just before heading out of it.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks smiled at him.

Harry smiled, "I'm glad you're okay. Got a wedding to look forward to, right?"

Remus smiled, nodding; "That we do. All of us. Need my best man standing up there with me, right?"

Harry did his best not to let his smile turn sad – knowing Remus didn't know what was really going on – and he forced a nod – wishing it weren't a lie – and stepped forward, hugging Remus tight.

Hoping that this hug, alone, would be enough to tell Remus how much he meant to him.

He lingered there for a moment in the safety that his uncle's arms had always provided – surprised when Remus didn't draw back after a time and when Snape remained silent, not urging him to hurry it along – before Harry drew back, himself.

Ready.

He met Snape's eyes, giving a nod. And then the Invisibility Cloak was thrown over the both of them, and they stepped from the room.

* * *

"I won again!" Grace declared, delightedly, before she shot Malachi a sly look; "Bet that's really annoying, Malachi?"

Malachi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the dig.

But he wasn't feeling it.

The playfulness that was happening between Julia and Grace – and his dad, though he'd taken the baby upstairs to lie him down, now – and Malachi got to his feet with a sigh.

Just wanting to be alone.

"Wait!" Grace frowned, noticing him making to leave; "I thought you said best three out of five? You've still got a chance!"

Julia gave a little hum of laughter, while leaning back on the couch – looking so tired and almost as weighed down by what was happening as Malachi felt, as if she'd been up all night or something – and Malachi shrugged.

"Maybe later."

He headed away, ignoring Grace's huff of disappointment, and headed up the stairs.

Much as he knew his dad and Julia were trying to keep his mind of it – that Harry had gone away to die – it wasn't working.

All the playfulness and the hugs and his dad's affectionate glances.

If anything, his dad making such an effort to make this day bearable – barely letting Malachi out of his sight since he'd woken up this morning until now – was just reminding him of how bad it really was.

Malachi stepped up onto the landing, hearing his dad's voice speaking softly, and he smiled – recognising the proud little tone in his voice as he did – and he quietly approached, peering into his dad and Julia's room.

His dad was sitting on the bed, his little brother – Nicholas, if Julia had agreed – held carefully in both his hands and his dad's eyes were all for him, as he smiled.

But even past the smile, there was a sadness in his expression as he spoke to him.

"I love you so much already. You, little man, you are going to have such an amazing future, you know that? You have the most amazing Mummy in the whole world and that big brother of yours, oh. Oh boy, your brother, he is going places."

Malachi pursed his lips together, rolling his eyes.

"And so will you. I'll make sure of that, Little Sprout. _You_ are going to be the big bright light that gets them through this. I flatter myself that they're going to miss me a bit."

The smile Malachi was fighting died away then, a frown coming to him along with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"But you've got my nose –" his dad went on, oblivious to Malachi watching him, as he gently tapped his brother on the nose, before he stroked his cheek; " – and my _dashing_ strong cheekbones, I see them already, and I bet you're going to have one killer of a smile. Don't hold off on giving that to them for too long, alright?"

His dad stared at his brother, while Malachi stared at them.

Not really understanding. But understanding enough.

"Yeah," his dad said, softly, smiling a little; "Yeah. I'll have your Uncle Sev bring you back this memory of me, hm? I put it in the letter. So, you have this one. I love you, Son."

His dad pressed his lips to the baby's forehead, while he cooed and wiggled in his arms.

Malachi stared at them.

Part of him wanting to go to him.

To ask what the hell his dad was talking about.

But, instead, he swallowed hard, backing away, and stumbled into his room.

* * *

Harry walked along the familiar corridor on the way to the Headmaster's office, Snape at his side, the two of them huddled in close as was required by the size of the Invisibility Cloak.

The corridors were almost entirely deserted, save for the odd Professor, with all the students now away home for the start of the holidays – as far as Voldemort knew – and Harry felt his heart rate speed up a bit when he noticed one of them.

One of the Death Eaters that had been assigned to teach.

Snape nudged him and Harry got the hint, stepping in and the two of them pressed their backs as much as they could into the wall behind them, to give the approaching Death Eater room as he passed.

They were close to the Headmaster's – to Snape's – office now.

They lingered there, side-by-side, for a moment – the cloak doing as it ought to – and, as soon as the person was far enough down the corridor, Snape nudged Harry once more, inclining his chin, and they carried on the rest of the way in silence.

The stopped at the entrance staircase, Snape giving a careful glance around to ensure no one else lingered, before he said; "The password is Dumbledore."

Harry swallowed and nodded, glancing at Snape out the corner of his eye; "Alright."

He made to step out from beneath the cloak – to go – but Snape stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"Harry."

Harry drew in a breath, turning slightly to meet his eyes.

Snape just stared at him.

Long enough that Harry didn't think he was going to say anything at all.

Until he finally did.

"The snake is the seventh."

Harry frowned.

"The seventh?"

"Horcrux."

Harry simply stared back at him for a second.

Wondering why Snape would even bother to tell him that, when he'd surely be dead within the hour.

Harry nodded; "Yeah. Kinda figured. Seeing things through its eyes and all that."

Snape nodded, slowly, eyes still upon him. With that weird, intense gaze he used to look at Harry with, in the years before he knew who he really was.

Part of him wished it was his mum who was here with him right now. But, the other part of him was glad it was Snape. Someone who wasn't going to send him off a blubbering wreck.

His calm keeping Harry so, in these last moments before he had to face him, as he needed.

Harry drew in a breath and turned away, stepping out from beneath the cloak, and swiftly went to the staircase, speaking the password, without a backwards glance.

Not that it would matter if he did, for Snape would be entirely unseen, beneath the cloak.

He expected to hear footsteps – the sound of Snape departing – but it was a sound that didn't come.

Within minutes, Harry had ascended and entered the office.

He walked slowly to the desk of the familiar room – to the spot he knew he had to stand in – his eyes skimming across the portraits of all the previous Headmasters as he passed them.

All seeming to be asleep.

Harry stood still, bracing himself, as his eyes focused on the spot Snape had seen the horcruxes – the image he'd now imbedded into Harry's own mind – and called on every shred of bravery he had within him. All that foolish bravery he'd mustered up the first time – that dreadful night – that he'd faced Voldemort – foolishly – and Sirius had had to die.

The night it all began.

Well.

Today, it would end.

Harry stared at the spot on the desk, seeing the horcruxes in his mind – where they must be – and he dropped them all. His occlumency barriers that had been steadfast, now, for months.

And he willed it to Voldemort – through their minds – what he was seeing.

Mustered up some excitement, some trepidation – neither of which were difficult in that moment – and willed as hard as he could that Voldemort would see and feel it.

* * *

"Aw, his nose wrinkles like yours does, Malachi!" Grace declared, delightedly, as she beamed down at the baby cradled in her arms.

Julia chuckled, glancing Malachi's way, who smiled – though it was clearly forced – and shifted where he sat.

Julia met Regulus' eyes, then, finding him watching them from across the room at the counter, and she gave him a smile, though the concern he felt for his son was mirrored in her gaze.

Regulus smiled in turn, even if hers was resigned – knowing what was to come – and then Regulus' eyes went back to his boy where he sat, miserably, on the chair.

He'd done all he could to make these final moments count.

He and Julia whispered long into the night – more than a few tears shed – before he'd woken early – having barely slept at all – and waited in the kitchen for his son to emerge; pouncing upon Malachi the moment that he did and pestering him until his boy could hold back his smile no longer.

The jokes and the headlocks and the stolen kisses on the side of his head all making Malachi both laugh and scoff – knowing his dad was trying to cheer him up but not, really, knowing the truth as to why – determined that their last day together would be the best of them.

It wasn't, as it happened, for Harry's fate was something that weighed too heavily on his son's mind and his own fate – and what it would mean for them, his family left behind – weighed heavily on his own.

It was something Regulus had always sought to avoid.

He wanted them – especially his son – to remember their last moments together as times of joy.

Of smiles and of laughter.

Not of pain and of grief and with tears of goodbyes.

He had never been good at those.

Regulus had puzzled over his son's letter once again that afternoon – adding in more and scratching things out, explanations and declarations and assurances – before he'd finally sealed it up once more and come downstairs some time after Julia had come to collect the baby – kissing him, soundly, while they could without an audience.

Regulus knew it was their last kiss as it had happened.

He knew his last embraces with his sons had already passed.

A glance at the timepiece confirming the unwelcome truth that was ticking down.

He had to go.

Regulus swallowed hard.

Took one last, long look at his wife and their baby and his son – the family he had so desperately wanted – before he inclined his chin at Julia – now – and then turned and headed down to the basement.

He found the covered portrait he'd dug out from the attic the night before – one he hadn't really set eyes on, properly, in so many years – before he flicked his wand, minimalizing it, and tucked it into the bag he'd brought down with him.

And then he drew in a breath – determinedly – knowing that he couldn't die _here_ – they couldn't see him like that – and headed to the door of the basement that led outside, walking out and onto the grass.

He rummaged through the bag, ensuring he had all he deemed necessary – the portrait and the poison – and zipped it up with a sigh, placing it down on the porch, and turned, to make his way back into the house.

For an excuse or a goodbye, he wasn't quite sure, but he realised – within seconds – what it was going to be when he suddenly came face-to-face with his son.

"Where are you going?"

There was an underlying hint of betrayal in his son's voice – somehow, knowing – and Regulus cleared his throat; entirely unprepared for this.

"I – I have to be somewhere. To do something. Part of the plan."

"Why aren't you worried about Harry?"

"Malachi –"

"Why won't you _look_ at me?"

Regulus reluctantly met his son's eyes, fully, and – as soon as he did – his boy's expression crumbled. The look in Regulus' eyes enough to give it all away.

"No," Malachi whispered; "Dad –"

"Malachi –"

"No, no –" Malachi murmured, shaking his head, his eyes glimmering– broken as he looked at him, already lost – and Regulus released a breath, feeling his own eyes well up as he stepped towards him.

He took his son's head in his hands, forehead pressed to his, while Malachi released a sob, looking back at him, with a look of devastation.

"Listen to me, Son. You are the best thing – _the best thing –_ that I ever did. I am so, so proud of you. I'm _so_ proud," Regulus said, fiercely; "Don't ever change or hide who you are for anyone. You be every bit of yourself. Because you – Malachi – you are the most incredible person that I have ever known."

Malachi sniffed, before another sob escaped him – one Regulus could tell he was trying to hold back – before he murmured.

"I love you, Dad."

Regulus drew him close.

"I love you too, Son."

They stood there, the two of them hugging one another tight, until Regulus eventually felt Malachi's tears subside.

He pressed a kiss to the side of his son's head, holding him close for a second more, and then drew back – determination setting in once more – as Malachi met his eyes.

"Now. You need to go back inside."

Malachi shook his head, speaking more certainly now.

"No. _No_. I'll come with you."

Regulus smiled and cupped his cheek, shaking his head.

"You can't come with me. Not this time. Not anymore."

"Dad."

"Son. You're the man of the house now. I need you to take care of your stepmum – of Julia – and your little brother. Now –" Regulus gave him a little grin, " – believe you me, I know brothers can be a real pain in the arse -"

Malachi laughed – the sweetest sound – and Regulus smiled.

"- but they do have their moments."

Malachi smiled a little and nodded – an unspoken promise – and Regulus drew him in for another tight hug.

"Now –" Regulus said, when they finally drew apart; "Go."

Malachi drew in a breath – which trembled, though his tears remained in check – before he slowly turned away and headed back to the house – one backwards glance that Regulus reward with a proud smile – and it was only when the door clicked shut behind his son, that Regulus turned around.

Lifted up the bag that was at his feet and headed away.

* * *

Severus drew in a breath – eyes on the door of the Room of Requirement – as he waited, with Lily at his side – the Polyjuice having worn off now – with her hands clasped together.

Her knuckles were white with the tightness of her grip.

Severus glanced, slightly, over his shoulder – at the unabashed, still not-entirely-warm eyes that were upon him – and he moved in closer to her, pressing slightly against her to offer her comfort, audience be damned.

Lily swallowed, meeting his eyes with a small smile. Her unease palpable.

"How will we know when it's time?" Lupin's voice spoke lowly from behind them.

Lily drew in a breath, glancing at Lupin before sharing a look with Severus.

Severus held her look for a moment, still feeling the hostile eyes of those who were upon him. Those who still weren't convinced by him, despite what Harry had said and what they all knew about Grace.

His eyes meet Draco Malfoy's – unexpectedly – where he stood several feet behind Lupin with the Greengrass girls. The boy's gaze one of both distrust and disgust as he eyed him from where he stood.

Severus lowered his eyes.

He was, of course, used to distrust.

To hostile glances.

To the disdain by which others would look at him – even before he had done what he did – as he'd endured it for years, now.

Only a small handful of those who truly knew him in his life, who looked at him with more.

Grace.

Lily.

Harry.

Regulus' family.

Regulus, himself.

The thought gave him pause, as he stood there, beneath the hostile gazes of those he fought for and with.

That he was here, standing with them, while the person who'd stood by him – though his best and his worst – died alone.

For Severus knew he'd spare his family the pain of it. To bear witness to his final moments.

Opting, instead, to bear it all himself.

Severus swallowed, meeting Lily's eyes for a moment.

"We'll know."

Lily frowned and Severus reached out, squeezing her arm, before he turned and started to step away – sharing a look with Lupin, an unspoken request that he be there for her – as he made his way towards the exit that led to the tunnel back to the Hogs Head.

Passed all the looks of distrust and disapproval – only Minerva's looking somewhat unsure – with his chin held high, until he shook out the cloak and disappeared beneath it, making his way back through the passage.

* * *

Regulus made his way, slowly, through the ruins of the Foundation. Passing by it all.

The ash on the ground.

The shattered glass of the windows.

The debris of all the destruction.

The crumbled stone of the walls.

But some of them still stood.

Regulus' eyes found them as he walked through the remains of the entrance lobby; the still, lifeless portraits of his cousins – Andromeda and Narcissa – who smiled at him from where they were still mounted on the wall.

Regulus drew in a breath, eyes lowering – with familiar regret but he'd be with them, soon – and carried on his way, making to turn into ballroom.

But his eyes caught the headline of the main article which still remained mounted upon the wall – the first to be so – amongst the ruins.

 _Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of the_ Great _Lord Voldemort._

Regulus stilled in his steps as he took in the words of his boy. Awash with pride as he thought of his son.

Knowing, as it did, that Malachi would be fine.

Thought of his strength and his bravery and his _awareness_ that Regulus could only wish he had had when he had been fifteen.

Maybe then things would be different.

But then, maybe, all this wouldn't be almost over, now. If not for his foolish, terrible mistakes.

All the things that he had done.

Regulus walked on by the words of his son – out from beneath the gaze of his cousins – and stepped into the ruins of the ballroom, the walls of which were barely still standing.

His eyes skimmed the room – the destruction – before he went to the nearest table and let the bag he carried on his shoulder slip from it, landing with a thud upon the surface.

He reached in, pulling out the two items, and set them out.

The phial of poison.

And the portrait, that he returned to its appropriate size, and placed on one of the chairs around the table.

Regulus flicked his wand, revealing the portrait beneath.

A simple, empty frame.

Just looking at the background, alone, took him back. Back to those days of his youth, with his mother and father and his brother.

"Phineas."

Silence greeted him.

Regulus called his name again.

"Well. If it isn't my Great-Great-Grandson."

Regulus smiled, while the portrait went on, peering at the surroundings with undisguised curiosity.

"I had wondered at this illusive Foundation that you did not see fit to hang my portrait. It has been a rather long time in the dark since you plucked me from the wall of Grimmauld Place."

"I'd have thought you'd just stay at Hogwarts."

"So, I do. Until this unexpected summons. How could I possible refuse to come, at hearing such a surprising call?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow; "I suppose that means you know what's going on over there."

Phineas Black grinned, eyeing him; "In cahoots with Dumbledore's boy-wonder, are we, Regulus?"

"If you would be so kind," Regulus said, taking a seat on the chair beside the portrait; "I had wondered if you'd keep an eye on what that 'boy-wonder' is up to. And let me know if, perhaps, he should happen to –"

The face of the portrait simply stared back at him for a moment. Before it slipped from the frame, returning to Hogwarts.

Regulus cleared his throat, eyes returning to the phial of poison.

A brief moment of needless wonder as to whether or not he was going to need it.

Before he sighed.

Pondering – wondering – _brooding_ no longer something necessary.

Their victory within their grasp.

The end of the road creeping near.

Regulus swung his legs up onto the chair in front of him, his arms slung back over the chair he was sitting in, and he closed his eyes as he leaned back further, letting his head hang back, and simply waited.

Waited for death.

* * *

Harry stood where he was – no idea how much time had passed – simply willing the message – the vision – into Voldemort's mind.

No idea if it was working.

The office was so quiet, so still, that Harry could hear the sound of the portraits – no feigning sleep – moving within their frames, seeming keen to see what he was up to.

He heard their hushed whispers.

Felt their eyes upon him.

His eyes were closed, now, but he could still see the desk and the horcruxes and the Sword of Gryffindor that Snape had given to him – one of his own memories – and he focused all of his energy on that.

Until a voice – high and familiar – sounded behind him.

"Ah."

Harry's eyes opened, as his heart rate sped up.

"Harry Potter. Come to die."

* * *

Footsteps on the wooden floor had Regulus open his eyes with a frown, looking at who'd come upon him where he was still sprawled back on the chair.

Severus was stood there – of course – a few feet away, with a little smirk on his face.

"Is this how you wanted us to find you?"

Regulus grinned before he rolled his eyes and straightened up.

Severus' lips twitched in his attempt to hold back a snicker, as he approached and sat down on the chair Regulus had just pulled his legs down from.

"What are you doing here?"

Severus said nothing, just cocked an eyebrow, not looking at him, as he reached into his robes. He pulled out two glasses, placing them on the table, one for each of them, and then reached back in and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey.

Severus filled the glasses and Regulus wondered – though didn't say out loud – why he was here, with him, and not with Harry.

Be he was grateful, nonetheless.

He'd never wanted to be alone.

Severus lifted his own glass in Regulus' direction and took a swig, finishing his own off in one gulp.

Regulus smiled and did the same.

Severus filled them both back up.

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Where else would you be?"

Regulus inclined his chin in concession, as Severus handed over the glass.

Regulus' eyes glanced around the ruins of the Foundation, once more, that surrounded them.

A legacy that Severus had been there with him, for, from the beginning.

"Do you think it changed anything, Severus?" he murmured, more to himself than anything, eyes still taking in the destruction.

When no response came, Regulus met Severus' eyes. And he was startled by the warmth and the openness that he saw there.

"Yes," Severus said, assuredly, "It did. _You_ did."

Regulus swallowed, staring back at him, as Severus went on.

"You made a difference, Regulus. Much as you refuse to own it. You did."

The two of them held one another's gaze – Regulus surprised by the sincerity and the weight, while Severus seemed not to be at all – before Regulus lowered his eyes, clearing his throat.

"Should we toast to something?" Regulus suggested, when the silence continue to stretch, and they edged a little closer to goodbye than he should like.

"If you should wish it."

Regulus lifted his glass, giving Severus a smile.

"To my last breath?"

Severus didn't smile – all pretence gone, in these final moments, it seemed – and lifted his own glass.

"To the Blacks."

Regulus released a breath – a ghost of a smile on both their lips, then - before lifting his glass.

A toast to the ancestors.

A silent plea that they would not forsake him now.

* * *

Harry stood tall, staring Voldemort down, the very same way he had years before.

That very first night.

"We are before one another once more, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, as he slowly circled around him, glinting red eyes at first upon him – Harry feeling the stir of memories even as he drew his occlumency barriers back up – before they went to the empty desk.

The eyes narrowed further as he looked at it.

There were Death Eaters in the room – only a handful – and others could be heard outside. But Harry kept his eyes on Voldemort – his stance and his occlumency barriers holding as strong as he could – as he waited.

Waited for death.

Voldemort looked contemplative for a moment – eyes still on the desk – before he approached him and Harry's hand instinctively tightened on his wand, despite knowing it was needless to fight.

Voldemort's tone was hushed – as if they were sharing a secret – so that the others in the room would struggle to hear what was spoken.

"Do tell me, Harry Potter, how did a meagre being such as yourself happen to get his hands upon my most precious objects?"

Harry simply stared back at him, those his lips twitched slightly, and Voldemort suddenly looked amused.

For a second, their eyes just remained upon one another – Harry full of the defiance he had exhibited from the very beginning – until, suddenly, Voldemort tore through his mind at speed.

He saw so much, so quickly.

He saw Malachi and him huddled close in the Astronomy Tower – his best friend offering comfort – when he'd finally found out the truth.

He saw Harry accusing his mother of never thinking he was enough for her and then, later, telling her that none of this was worth it.

He saw Grace in his arms, her laughter and her innocent questions and the love in her eyes as she looked at him.

Heard her say 'Daddy' and then Snape was there, too.

Snape reading to Grace on the couch – the picture perfect father-daughter – and he saw Snape holding Harry in the Potions Classroom as he broke down and he saw Snape press a kiss to his mum's forehead, where they stood in the dark of the Foundation.

But Voldemort didn't see _enough._

Not enough to spoil their plan.

For as soon as he got close to it – _"that is the vision you will be sending –"_ – Harry managed to pull up the barriers, carefully, measuredly – despite the urgency – so that Voldemort wouldn't know he was doing it.

And managed to keep the most important piece of information from Voldemort of all.

That Harry, too, was a horcrux.

And he'd come here to die.

Voldemort lifted his chin, lips revealed slightly in a snarl, but a sound of amusement escaped him.

"An ambush, is this to be, Harry Potter? Set up by Severus Snape, himself. Gone awry, apparently, by his lack of appearance."

Voldemort eyed the room – the windows – the doors – before he met Harry's eyes with the same amusement in his eyes that Harry had heard in his breath of a laugh.

"Well. I'm afraid it doesn't seem as if my devious traitor is going to be here in time to come to his stepchild's aid. What a pity that will be for him. To realise the Godfather has put him to shame."

Harry glowered back at him. Offended on both their behalf – Snape and his Uncle Sirius – but he didn't hold onto it.

He didn't want that to be the last thing he felt.

So he lifted his chin, defiantly, daring Voldemort to do it.

And he did.

"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."

The eyes glinting, only a moment longer, before Voldemort lifted his wand – Harry making a show of doing the same, without any real will to defend himself – and the words were spoken.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

* * *

Regulus' glass – still full – slipped from his fingers, smashing upon impact with the floor.

The light in his eyes there and then gone.

A second between them.

Regulus' lifeless form slumped to the side in his chair.

Severus kept his eyes on him a moment, lifting his own glass to his lips and finishing off the firewhiskey in a slow sip.

And then he placed the glass back upon the table and got to his feet. He straightened Regulus up, flicked his wand to clean up the smashed glass and liquid at their feet, before casting a patronus message – it took several attempts – and sent it to Lily, to let her know it had happened, now, so that someone could come and retrieve the body.

It was time.

Severus had to go.

He let his hand linger upon Regulus' shoulder – allowed the grief to take hold, just for a moment – and squeezed it, tight.

He said a silent prayer, a wish for him, that his friend would find the peace in the afterlife, that he had never been able to find among the living.

And then Severus' hand dropped to his side, as he swept from the room, just as Phineas Black hurried back into the frame of his portrait.

"Harry Potter is dead!"

* * *

Harry's eyes opened.

The flash of green that had surrounded him becoming a blinding white mist.

He was lying on a surface – not a floor – but a something, that was a white as the world around him, and – some time later, or perhaps no time at all – he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

He was naked, he realised, as he glanced around the clean, whitened surroundings – wishing he were clothed – and then, suddenly robes appeared, as if answering his thoughts.

Harry shrugged them on, slowly taking in the large whitened, space around him, not entirely sure where he was at first but then…

It came to him in a moment.

The familiar fireplace from his childhood.

The nook of the window.

The staircase.

He was home.

A sound – an agonised sound – came from behind him but, before he could turn towards it, a hand – he could feel – grasped him by the shoulder, making him look the other way, instead.

His eyes widened, his jaw slackening, as he took in the warm, smiling face that had come to him.

"Uncle Sirius."

* * *

A folded, wax-sealed letter appeared in the air with a sparkle of golden glitter in front of Julia's eyes, where she sat upon the edge of hers and Regulus' bed, having just put the baby to sleep.

It fluttered, slowly, downwards, and she caught it in the air before it fell.

Her heart constricting and her throat tightening – knowing what it was – before she'd even broken the seal; opening it to read the words inside.

_Julia,_

_Forgive me._

_You made me want to live._

_And though our time together was much too brief, know this, that every moment I spent with you; I lived._

_I am yours always,_

_Regulus_

_Ps. Don't name our baby after a star._


	92. May 1996: Black Magic

Harry stared back at his Uncle Sirius' smiling face.

"I –" Harry began, before finding himself speechless. Entirely unable to process the fact that Sirius was _here_ before him – much less be able to muster up any coherent sentence – and then he released a breath and hugged Sirius tight with a laugh.

Sirius laughed, too – more softly – and held him close.

"Hey, little man."

For a moment, Harry thought he could have been seven years old again. Back before all of this and he'd had Sirius, there, always on his side. Who had always been there, whenever and wherever Harry needed him to be.

Until – one day – he wasn't.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut – tears prickling at the unwelcome thought, at familiar embrace and the familiar voice, that he'd longed for; that he'd only ever been able to find in dreams and memories – and hugged him tighter.

"I can't believe you're here."

"Well –" Sirius drew back, meeting his eyes, "Where else would I be, hm?"

Harry smiled, a little bit sadly, despite his joy at seeing him once more.

"I've missed you," Harry said, quietly.

Sirius nodded, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

"I've been with you," Sirius told him; "Watching from the stars, just like you told your sister."

Harry's smile widened a bit at the mention of Grace.

"I'm so proud of the young man you've become, Harry."

Harry swallowed, hard, at the declaration, not really knowing what to say.

"I wouldn't have become _anything_ if it wasn't for you. I…I'm so sorry, Uncle Sirius. I was so stupid –"

"Ah ah!" Sirius held up a hand, "We'll have none of that. Your bravery is one of your most admirable traits. And I wouldn't change a thing, Harry."

Harry lowered his eyes, as Sirius went on.

"But let's not dwell on the past, alright?" Sirius dipped his chin, trying to gaze his gaze; "We mustn't waste this very brief interlude that you and I have together –"

Harry frowned, suddenly confused, wondering why he and Sirius should need to be parted at all, now. For his uncle has surely come for him, to take him with him, to show him where to go.

"I don't –"

" – won't be long until your wondering if this was even real. And once you've finished this all off, your unwished for 'duty' to Wizarding-kind – because you _will_ , no doubt about it– you are finally going to have the life that you deserve. A _fantastic_ one. Believe me, Harry, seeing that, will be more than worth it."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't understand – " he looked around the misty, white surroundings; " – aren't I…you know – dead?"

Sirius grinned.

"Not quite."

Harry was utterly bewildered at the statement, shaking his head; "But – the Killing Curse…I meant to die."

Sirius chuckled; "Well. Pity for Voldemort – his lack of respect for the branch of magic that is _love_ has bitten him on the behind again –"

Harry somehow managed to both smile and frown all at once – both amused and bewildered – as Sirius went on.

" – and when he decided that only _your_ blood would do to revive him – his intention being, of course, that he would then be able to break the charm that protects you and bring you to harm – actually had the _opposite_ effect. And now that Old Magic charm that protected you the first time – that lives in you – now flows through Voldemort's veins, also."

Harry's frown overtook the smile then, as he attempted to process _that._

"And _that_ , my Godson, is when one would yell ' _checkmate'_ ," Sirius' eyes gleamed, before he chuckled.

Harry laughed then, shaking his head; "So, what…he's like…my horcrux now or something, too? We became each other's horcruxes?"

Sirius chuckled; "Not quite. I'm afraid, in your case, the only person who couldn't harm you was Voldemort himself. Your binding to life was evoked from love. Not darkness."

Harry lifted his chin, suddenly realizing – in that moment – why his mum and Snape had sent him to Hogwarts.

To Voldemort.

"They – my mum and Snape – they knew that, too. They never expected me to die."

Sirius smiled.

"No. They didn't."

Harry drew in breath, as the truth sunk in.

Another lie, sure, but…

He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed of it all – all he'd said to his mum just days before – now that he realized what they'd done.

All he'd said to her about Snape.

And about Grace.

And how they'd finally talked about his dad.

Harry met Sirius' eyes, uncertainly.

"Is…does my dad watch me, too?"

Sirius' smile became a grin at that as he raised his eyebrows; "You bet."

Harry felt a flutter of both delight and nervousness at that – at all he must have heard him say – and he wondered, then, what his dad really thought of him.

If he really would be as proud of him – if he'd love him – as much as everyone had always said.

"Is he…"

Harry hesitated. Unsure if he really wanted to know anything other than the fantasy that he'd made up in his mind of him, now.

And, with that thought, he suddenly, felt a bit more understanding of his mum and how she'd cling to them.

"He's as proud of you as any father would be, Harry," Sirius assured him, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking, "More so, even. James always has been a cocky pain in the arse –"

Harry laughed.

" – in fact, we often bicker about which of the two of us deserves the credit. That whole, nature vs. nurture argument is never more debated than between me and your dad."

Harry grinned.

"Who wins?"

"Neither of us," Sirius chuckled, "Both of us know that all the credit is on you. Nothing to do with either of us old farts."

Harry knew that wasn't the case.

"That's not true, Uncle Sirius," Harry said, lifting his shoulder in a shrug; "I couldn't have done any of this without you. Or everyone else that's been there for me."

Sirius shook his head.

"You've been through so much, Harry. You've been through _hell._ A lesser man – most of us – wouldn't have turned out as good as you have. Bitterness comes after even the best of us. In fact, I'm entirely certain the only person in the world who might be _a little bit_ close to you in that regard would be Moony. But don't tell him I said that."

Sirius winked.

Harry chuckled.

"He misses you, too."

"Oh, he better."

Harry grinned, before he added, a little uncertainly.

"So does Mr. Black."

Sirius' expression became a little more guarded at that. But his eyes remained warm – almost wistful – before he nodded.

"I don't doubt that. My brother always was a bit of a soft touch. I find that _death_ has made Regulus forgive me perhaps a little too keenly for the _sins_ of times passed," he said, widening his eye dramatically, making Harry chuckle.

It was so bizarre to him, that he'd woken that morning, believing it would be the last – expecting to die – and _now_ he was in some sort of strange, misty, bright limbo laughing with his Uncle Sirius, being told he was going to be just fine.

And that he was – somehow – going to be able to defeat Voldemort just for simply being unable to be killed by him.

Which – if Harry were honest – didn't really seem like it was going to quite cut it.

"Speaking of which," Sirius went on, as if reading his mind again – making Harry wonder if this was all just in his head; "My brother – and your mother – and her beau –" Sirius rolled his eyes, slightly, at the mention; " – have seen to it that you're going to have a little bit of help in fulfilling your great destiny this evening."

"My destiny?" Harry repeated, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice.

"Why, the Mighty Slayer of the _Great_ Lord Voldemort, of course."

Harry laughed fully, then.

"I don't think that's what the prophecy means, Uncle Sirius. It probably just meant this."

Harry glanced around them.

He could still hear the sound of something – that he was beginning to realize was the part of Voldemort that had come with him – making pained sounds somewhere behind them.

"Well, the rest of us all think otherwise. And by the _rest of us,_ I refer to my _Noble_ and _Most Ancient_ House."

Harry frowned, "What do you mean?"

Sirius grinned.

"Let's just say that some tricks were pulled and – now – you're going to be wielding some pretty powerful magic when you wake back up in a few minutes."

"What kind of magic?"

"All of the magic harvested and passed down through the Black Ancestors."

Harry stared at him, stunned for a second.

" _What_?"

Sirius looked both amused and incredibly fond, as he nodded.

"Knock 'em dead, little man."

Harry drew in a breath, just sitting there, as he tried to take in the information Sirius had given him. That not only was he going to survive the Killing Curse – again – and go back. But he was – also – going to go back with the power he needed. Fueled, in some way, by the Blacks' allegiance to him.

"Why do I have it? This – um – Black magic?"

Sirius smiled, before lifting his shoulders and saying simply:

"Love."

Harry smiled, slowly, in turn.

And then he glanced at the fireplace – which flared as if by floo – and then at the door, which clicked open, that white, misty light intensifying beyond the threshold.

"They trying to tell me it's time to go already? That I have to pick one?"

"To stay or to go?" Sirius eyed him, his smile still playing on his lips; "You take all the time you need, Harry."

Harry stared back at him.

Loathe to leave his Uncle Sirius now that he finally had him back.

He drew in a breath – missing him already – when he asked, quietly.

"You'll stay with me?"

Sirius' eyes warmed, his hand going back to Harry's shoulder and squeezing once more.

"Until the very end."

Harry leaned in, hugging him tight.

Sirius just held him – as long as Harry needed – until Harry drew back, meeting his eyes.

For what, he knew this time, would be the last time.

At least for a long while.

Sirius dipped his chin, giving him an encouraging smile and raising an eyebrow.

"Are you ready to end this?"

Harry drew in a breath, before nodded.

Yes.

He was.

* * *

There was a stir among all who remained, waiting, in the Room of Requirement.

And yet every eye Severus passed seemed to turn his way as he stepped back into the room through the passage – an evident distrust among them as to where he'd been and who he'd been with – but, after what had just occurred – and what he knew was about to – Severus couldn't muster up any concern to care at all as to what the opinion of those within the room was of him anymore.

He cared only for the opinion of his loved ones, now.

The precious few that remained.

The loss of Regulus an unwelcome reminder of fragile mortality.

But he fought down his grief – there was time for that later – and channeled it, instead, into the battle that still lay ahead.

Severus made it to Lily's side, quickly, while she turned to him with apprehension as he approached.

Severus gave her a nod – telling her that it was done – and said as he reached her, where she still stood with Lupin, Tonks and Minerva; "It's time."

Minerva eyed him, uncertainly – though it was not quite with the same distrust as the rest had done so with – before she met Lily's eyes.

Lily's look was convincing, enough – it seemed – to reassure her, and Minerva turned, addressing the room.

"All those able – and by that I mean only those whom are of age – let's go."

Tonks pulled open the door.

The first to step out.

While the rest of them followed suit.

* * *

Harry was lying face down on the floor once more.

Back in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, he realized, with his eyes closed as he heard the murmurs of the Death Eaters' within the room.

He could feel his heart thud, erratically in his chest, and an odd, unfamiliar thrum coursing through his veins – deep within him – that he realized was the magic of the Blacks that had come to him.

Harry fought to keep his breathing shallow, to keep control of the wild, untamed magic he could feel surging through him.

" _We're with you, Harry."_

Sirius' voice seemed to be whispered to him on a breeze and Harry called on the calming techniques he had almost mastered with Snape's guidance, some months before.

He felt the magic within him calm, settling into something deep and steady and waiting, as Harry willed it to do.

"My Lord?" he heard one of the voices of the Death Eaters speak – hesitantly – to Voldemort.

"I do not require assistance," came the high-pitched, cold response and Harry could hear the sound of rustling, as Voldemort – who, it seemed, like himself had also collapsed in the aftermath of the Killing Curse that he had fired Harry's way – got back to his feet.

"Harry Potter. Is he dead?"

There was a silence in the immediate wake of his question but Harry could feel the eyes of every Death Eater in the room turn upon him, now, as his heart thudded, treacherously, so hard that they could surely hear it from where they stood at the other side of the room.

There was a zap and a yelp.

"You. Examine him."

Harry tried to keep him breathing shallow, tried to get control of his rapidly beating heart – as if either were possible – just as he felt rough hands upon him, turning him sharply to face the person who had come, and his eyes fluttered of their own accord.

He caught sight of Draco Malfoy's father in the brief glance he had been unable to help – registered the look of shock upon the man's expression as the hands upon him stilled over his chest, easily able to pick up the beating beneath – and Harry was almost about to reach for his wand – to call upon the Blacks' magic _now –_ when he was shoved roughly back to the floor, face down.

"He is dead!" Lucius Malfoy's voice called – with a tone of elated triumph – back towards those within the room and there were roars of victory amongst all within the room.

"The Boy Who Lived!" Voldemort's voice screeched, in amusement, over the sounds of celebration the filled the small space around him, where he lay.

It carried on – the bellows and the exclamations and the slaps on the backs – as all partook in the joy of Harry's apparent demise, while Harry waited, patiently, trying to figure out when he should do it.

He wondered, briefly, whether or not the magic he could still feel pulsing through him – steady and waiting – would be enough to take out more than just Voldemort, if he needed to, somehow all at once.

Harry doubted it.

The Ancestral Magic had not rendered Frank Longbottom _invulnerable_.

"We had better not leave his adoring public waiting," Voldemort announced, as the din quietened; "I do believe their attempt at ambush has been somewhat waylaid – but no matter, no matter. Lucius; bring him. Hold him high. We shall present him to all – their dead hero child – and snuff out this resistance once and for all."

Harry heard the sound of the door opening as he was scooped up into Lucius Malfoy's arms before he was carried from the room, several feet ahead of the others, held up high as Voldemort had instructed, so he was almost level with the man's face.

Harry swallowed, trying his best to remain still and limp as he was carried along, wondering why on Earth Draco's father, of all people, would help him.

But he realized – then – with that simple thought…

Lucius Malfoy was a _father_.

And this man, like Snape, would most certainly put the wellbeing of his child – his child who was hunted by the very man who hunted Harry – over any loyalty to the dark wizard who walked along several paces behind them, his snake slithering along, obediently, at his feet.

Still gloating to all those who listened as to his victory.

Harry suddenly remembered Snape's last words to him, when he caught sight of the snake.

He felt the magic within him spark, slightly, with his excitement – with the urgency – and fought to pull on his calm, again, so he wouldn't lose control of it.

He felt the magic flickering, still, eager to be utilized. Harry tried for occlumency – finding it work a little – and pulled up the barriers as he knew how.

"Sir," Harry breathed.

"Silence," came the cold response of the man who carried him, hissed under his breath, as Harry dared crack an eyelid just a slit, to look at him.

Lucius Malfoy's jaw was set, his gaze straight ahead, as he walked – almost in a march – through the corridor of the Castle, making their way towards the entrance hall.

Harry hesitated for only a second – catching the ever so slight smirk that tugged at the man's lips at Voldemort's continuing words, touting his own accomplishment, obviously inwardly rejoicing at the fact Harry was alive – before Harry assured himself that the look, along with Malfoy's situation, and the fact his own wife had been executed before his own eyes were surely enough that he, too, would want to see Voldemort dead as much as those whom Harry stood with.

"The snake," he breathed.

The man's jaw twitched – the only indication that he had heard him – as they carried on walking.

"He can't die as long as it lives."

Harry felt the slightest pressure on his arm by the man's grip but, other than that, there was no further reaction or acknowledgement.

No time, it seemed.

For, within a second, Harry realized that the audience Voldemort craved had now come upon them as they stepped into the entrance lobby.

He could hear the sound of footsteps up ahead slowing while Harry lay – still as the dead – in Lucius Malfoy's arms.

"Harry?" there was a voice – one of quiet disbelief – that Harry realized, right away, belonged to his Uncle Remus.

He willed himself to remain still – to carry on with the ruse – despite the pain he could hear in Remus' voice, the gasps he could hear of those who realized what had happened.

"Harry?"

" _Harry_!"

He could hear Ron and Hermione.

But what came next was worse.

" _NO_!"

It took all Harry's strength not to move – not to respond – to the agonized wail of his mum. Grief-stricken and fully convinced by this display – her voice calling to him where he continued to lie still – her tone devastated and pleading from across the room.

Harry felt himself being laid before them on the ground – could hear his name and the cries of grief sounding from those who knew him – and he felt his stomach clench with both regret and with panic, when he heard Daphne's voice amongst them.

"You see?" Voldemort called to those who stood at the other side of the room, over Harry where he lay; "Harry Potter is dead! You fools who defy me with your _resistance_ –" he sneered the word, " – may now mourn the loss of your Boy Who Lived and realise the truth, once and for all, that he – that all of you – are _nothing_. And you will all finally crumble, just as he did before me."

Harry heard his mum's wails become a scream and a light fired forth – one he could see passed his eyelids from where she stood, in Voldemort's direction – that was easily deflected.

"Foolish woman!" Voldemort fired a spell back.

And – when he did – all hell broke loose.

Everything was suddenly happening at once – all around Harry where he remained lying on the ground – footsteps charging and the light of spells shooting back and forth above him and cries and screams and roars escaping the lips of all those within the room.

Harry risked it and opened his eyes – though he knew he couldn't call upon the Black Magic fully, yet – and, when he did, it was just in time to see it.

To see Lucius Malfoy take a backwards step just as the other Death Eaters charged forward and wielded his wand as if it were a blade – ' _Sectumsempra!' –_ and sliced the snake at the neck – the head flying upwards – before hitting the ground and rolling forward until it landed at Voldemort's feet.

Voldemort roared and Harry caught sight of Snape's astonished expression as he locked eyes with Lucius Malfoy just as the green light hit the man square in the chest.

Lucius Malfoy hit the ground, dead.

"NO!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut once more at the sound of Draco Malfoy's grief-stricken cry, as the duels intensified around him.

Harry heard an almighty crash as an hourglass smashed and he was suddenly surrounded by a cascade of emeralds that poured out around where he lay.

And then, Harry realized, that it was time.

The snake – as Snape had warned him about – was finished.

It was just he and Voldemort, himself, left now.

Harry drew in a breath – still lying on the ground with his eyes closed – and he called upon it – the magic of the Blacks that Snape and his mum and Mr. Black had granted him with – and he felt it flood through him, completely, now when he did.

" _We're with you, Harry."_

He heard Sirius' voice again.

He _felt_ him _,_ this time, as well as heard him.

But it wasn't just him he could feel.

He felt them all.

Even those he never really knew.

Somehow, instinctively, he knew who they all were; all those whose magic flowed through him now.

Sirius Black.

Andromeda Tonks.

Narcissa Malfoy.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Their parents.

Their grandparents.

All the Blacks who were now dead – had passed on – and who now stood with him.

Harry imagined it was – somewhat – against their will – at least of some of them – and there would surely be a price to pay for that.

But Harry dwelled no further on the thought, when he felt Sirius' presence gently reminding him to remain focused.

Harry's eyes slowly opened, seeking Voldemort, and he caught sight of him entering the Great Hall with the others who spilled into it in the midst of combat, the emeralds that scattered the ground now making it unsteady as people slipped to the floor due to the gems beneath their feet.

Harry sprung up and hurried after him – vaguely aware of the stunned exclamations of those he passed – and he only had a second to take it all in.

Draco Malfoy huddled over his dad's still form, shoulders shaking, as he hurried into the Hall.

Lassos of fire and transfigured arrows spun through the air.

Daphne stood dueling back to back with Ron and Hermione – all of whom, Harry thought, futilely – shouldn't be here, fighting, at all.

He saw his Uncle Remus engaging with a Death Eater and it was he who noticed Harry first – of all of those close to him – going still with a look of both amazement and relief when he caught sight of him stepping into the Hall.

And then Harry saw Snape engaging with two Death Eaters, ferociously, his teeth bared in a snarl – fighting with far more emotion apparent in his expression than Harry would have ever thought possible – before his eyes went to his mum.

To his mum who looked even more ferocious than Snape did as she advanced, mercilessly, upon any who got in her way – seeming determined to take on Voldemort, himself – as she attempted to cross the hall to where he was stood, already fighting three.

And then it started.

The astonished voices and the cries of joy as those who noticed him called his name.

Harry grinned, despite himself, and lifted his chin.

"Voldemort."

Voldemort spun to face him from where he stood in the middle of the hall – engaged by Nymphadora Tonks and Molly Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt – and, when he took in the sight of Harry standing there – quite alive and well and grinning back at him, unabashedly – the red eyes flashed and he let out a howl of fury, before all three of those who were fighting him were suddenly flung backwards by the force of the spell that next escaped him.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder as he began to step forward, turning to the side, instead, when he did, and he was met Snape's eyes where he'd now come to his side.

He was the only person in the entire Great Hall who didn't look at all surprised to see Harry breathing.

Harry smiled at him – briefly – while Snape's lips twitched and he inclined his chin, before Harry stepped forward while others stepped back, and he tried – and managed, with ease – to cast a shield charm that began from the center and spread outwards so that it was only himself and Voldemort who remained within it.

Everyone else who'd been close by, forced out beyond its boundary; safe and protected from what was to come.

Those who had still been dueling stopped, now, as all turned to look.

"Everyone stay back," Harry said, lifting his chin and staring Voldemort down; "I'm the one who has to do this."

Voldemort's lip curled as he eyed Harry with both scorn and amusement; "Has to do _what_ , Harry Potter?"

Harry said nothing, just stared back at Voldemort, while the Black magic continued to thrum through his veins – their voices whispering on the wind for only his ears alone – until Voldemort went on.

"Do you truly think you can defeat me, child? _You_ , who's only great feat in life thus far has been to survive off the back of the sacrifices of others?"

Harry swallowed down the sting that the accusation evoked.

But he felt the reassuring presence of Sirius with him.

He saw Daphne in the crowd and felt himself warm at the small smile she gave him, despite the obvious apprehension she felt.

He saw his Uncle Remus step up into view, behind her, giving Harry that familiar, reassuring smile as he lifted his chin, proudly.

Harry glanced sideways, catching sight of Snape, who's lips twitched as he nodded, once again, at him.

And then his eyes met his mum's where she stood, watching from beyond the boundary of the shield charm, and her eyes shone with love and amazement and pride and faith in him when their gazes locked.

Knowing, as he stood here, about to end this war that had devastated and torn about thousands of lives and families, that he wasn't doing it alone.

All these people stood with him.

And it was love – in the end – that Voldemort before him never understood that would, finally, bring him down.

The magic of the Blacks thrummed more wildly in his veins with his thoughts – his determination – so much so that Harry felt he would erupt, himself, with it at any moment.

"I needn't defeat you," Harry answered him, though he had the vague understanding – himself – that what he was going to say would be fruitless; "I've seen that fate that awaits you. Be a man. Try for remorse."

"You dare attempt to imply that you – you _foolish_ boy, oh-so-brave – has a deeper understanding of being a man, capable of understanding the greatest questions of life and beyond, than I?"

"It's just you and me, here. Your horcruxes are gone."

Voldemort's eyes glinted.

"So, this is your last chance," Harry said, lifting his chin, while the Black magic within him surged, insistently, ready to be utilized; "Try for remorse."

Voldemort's lip curled, a soft laugh escaping him.

Before the red eyes upon him flashed, furiously, and Voldemort lifted his wand.

Harry did, too.

Knowing, instinctively, by the guidance of those who flowed through him what he needed to do.

He needn't fight.

He just had to have faith.

Something Harry – until this moment – had always struggled to do.

Voldemort's voice cried out in the silence.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry closed his eyes, the Black magic flowing through him and outwards – with only the instinct to protect and love – and the blast was like canon fire as the two magics collided in the space between them.

Every window in the Great Hall shattered in a shower of glass that everyone threw up shield charms to protect themselves against.

Both Harry and Voldemort were flung backwards to the ground beneath the force of the collision.

Except, passed the daze of the impact of himself hitting the ground, Harry knew – could feel – that he was still alive.

And he lifted his head, his eyes falling upon Voldemort's still form where he lay opposite him, unmoving.

Dead.

At first, the was only deadly silence.

And, then, the Great Hall was suddenly filled with the cries and screams and roars of jubilation – the shield charm coming down as Harry got to his feet – and suddenly everyone was rushing in towards him and he was engulfed in the embraces and grasping hands of almost all in the room. Their shouts deafening him as all of their joy poured inwards towards him.

Harry felt a hand on his cheek and met his Uncle Remus' eyes, smiling at him, even though he was still being grabbed and jostled by all those around him – Hermione and Ron and Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout and Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Fred and George Weasley and other's he could barely make out past the flurry of faces– and his gaze moved from Remus, finding Daphne a little bit to the side, and they shared a smile.

And then his eyes finally found them – his mum and Snape – who stood together, a little further back from the rejoicing crowd, just watching him.

And their love and pride in both of their eyes was palpable as they looked towards him.

And, in that moment, Harry finally believed – and felt it for the truth that it was – that he was theirs and they were his.

Harry drew in a breath, smiling at them.

He could still feel the power of the Black magic – and Sirius – that was still with him, as he turned his attention to those who surrounded him, sharing in their smiles and shaking the hands of those who grasped for him, as he tried to keep it under control.

But he was starting to realise, that the power that currently thrummed through him – still desperate to be utilized – was enough that it could swallow a person whole.

Harry maintained his calm – the occlumency barriers he knew how to keep up – as he carried on through the crowd – joining in the smiles and the laughter even if he did just long, so very much, to simply just go home.

For hours and hours, it seemed – or at least it felt – it all went on before he finally managed to slip to the edge of the crowd and leave them behind, them all still buzzing with the thrill of it.

His mum and Snape were seated, now, at the Gryffindor Table but they stood when he finally approached them.

His mum was weeping, he realized, but still smiling and she immediately pulled him into her tight embrace when he reached them.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured into his hair; "Oh, my brave, brave boy."

Harry felt himself redden under his mum's murmurs and kisses, sharing a look with Snape, who looked more than a little amused at her outpouring of affection.

She held onto him for almost a full minute, before drawing back.

Harry swallowed, looking back at her.

"You knew, didn't you? You knew that he couldn't really kill me."

His mum didn't answer, just shared a knowing look with Snape, that told him it were true.

Harry sighed, shaking his head; "Why did you let me say all those things when you knew I was going to be fine? Why did you say you were sorry, when –"

"Because –" his mum said, softly, interrupting him and affectionately stroking his hair; "They were things that needed to be said. Because they were the things that we needed to let go of before we could finally have the future that starts today."

Harry simply stared back at her – barely about to believe it was true, despite what had just happened – and he glanced at Snape, who's lips twitched in that almost-smile of his, as he grasped Harry by the shoulder.

Harry smiled before he looked back at his mum.

"I saw Sirius."

His mum's eyebrows raised as she looked back at him; "You did?"

Harry nodded; "He told me what you did. That it was you two and Mr. Black who made sure I'd have the power to finally defeat him."

His mum shared a look with Snape, before she nodded hesitantly at Harry. And, in the second that they looked at one another, Harry caught it.

A very brief glimpse of grief in Snape's eyes as he looked back at her.

Harry swallowed, frowning, before he glanced around them, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"But…where is Mr. Black now?"

His mum's eyes lowered, saying nothing, which was enough to confirm Harry's worst fear. But he still waited, meeting Snape's eyes, imploring him to explain.

"With such powerful magic," Snape began, speaking for the first time – with regret in his tone that was less than reassuring – as he explained; "There is always a price. A sacrifice that must be made. In this case, two. The prior and the after."

Harry swallowed, as he stared back at him, simply waiting.

And he felt himself become impatient when Snape wasn't immediately forthcoming.

"Are you saying that Mr. Black is dead?"

Snape hesitated, momentarily, before he gave a slight nod of concession.

Harry frowned, then.

That didn't make any sense.

Harry was wielding the magic of the Black ancestors – he could feel them all, all the Blacks who had died – and he was positive, _positive_ that Regulus Black wasn't one of them.

Harry looked between them, uncertainly.

"Are you _sure_?"

* * *

Regulus eyed the misty white surroundings of the Foundation Ballroom.

No longer was it a crumble of ash and destruction, as it had been when he'd fallen.

No, this mirage of the Foundation still stood as tall and proud as it had done in its early days. Even the décor was older – the very first chosen – from way back when it had been just he, and Andromeda and Eugene and Severus and Cissy.

The glory days of times long passed.

Regulus sat there for goodness knows how long, in the chair where he had died in, wondering if this was it.

That his end – for all eternity – was to be spent, alone, in this room, haunted by those memories.

"Sorry I'm late –" a voice behind him made him jump, but before he could turn, the person who spoke took the seat opposite where – not so long ago – Severus had been sitting; "I was a little…tied up with something."

Regulus stared back at the person who'd come, dumbstruck.

" _Sirius?"_

"You seem disappointed," Sirius grinned, leaning back on the chair and resting an ankle up on his knee; "Were you expecting someone else?"

Regulus released a breath – almost a smile – before he shook his head.

"I wasn't expecting anyone. Or anything."

"You know, you really need to learn to stop expecting the worst for yourself, little brother."

"Well, I suppose I have an eternity of reflection ahead of me in this cloudy wasteland to learn that," Regulus pointed out, before glancing at the surroundings, and he wondered if Sirius saw the same as him; "What's the matter? Even hell didn't want me?"

Sirius chuckled but didn't answer.

"Where are we?"

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere."

Sirius' ankle came down and he leaned forward, elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand with that irritating grin he always used to tease him with when they were boys; "Where do you want to be?"

"I…Is this…Are you even _real_?"

Sirius pinched him.

"Ow!"

Sirius laughed.

"That hurt, did it?" Sirius rolled his eyes; "Figures. Here was me thinking you'd been through worse."

"You're a boggart."

" _Ouch_. You know what?" Sirius put a hand on his chest; "That hurts, little brother."

"Sirius. Is this really where you've been all these years?" Regulus looked around the place, appalled; "This…"

"I've been where I'm supposed to be."

"Why are you talking in riddles?"

Sirius laughed, fully, then, sitting up straighter.

"I'm just _relishing_ having you hang off my every word, Reg. It's been a long time since that's happened. Think the last time was when you were ten."

Regulus rolled his eyes; "Do you know what happened? With Harry?"

There was a moment where Sirius simply stared back at him.

Long enough that Regulus began to doubt his brother was going to give anything away.

And then Sirius smiled.

"You did good, little brother."

Regulus stared back at him, barely willing to believe it.

"It…it worked?"

"Yeah, it worked. You and Lil' and old Snivvy had it all planned out and it _worked_ –" Sirius splayed and waved a hand with a flourish, a motion of embellishment before he went on; "With your death, the Ancestral Magic was channelled through you from the Black ancestors into Harry – just as you lot orchestrated – whom they had already accepted as one of theirs to protect in light of the blood sacrifice made on his behalf."

"That's…yes. That's –" Regulus hesitated, not quite able to feel the joy he knew that the majority of the Wizarding World was surely experiencing right now; "What about Malachi? And Julia? Are they –"

"Alive. Grieving."

"Yes…yes, of course, they would be but…but they're alive," Regulus said, more to reassure himself than to convince Sirius; "And he's gone."

Sirius leaned back in the chair again, lifting his shoulders in a mock-unassuming shrug.

"What kind of life do you expect they'll have without you?"

Regulus eyed him, easily picking up on the judgement in his brother's tone.

"A better one," Regulus said, with certainty; "Better than what they would have had, if we hadn't done this."

"Hm. Perhaps," Sirius said, making an exaggerated show of thinking about it, before waving a hand, dismissively; "But I doubt it. I'm afraid they love you far too much to ever be happy without you. And that baby – my _stunning_ little nephew – will never know his father."

Regulus glowered at him.

"You know, Sirius, I've spent _years_ wondering what I would say to you if I ever got the chance to see you again. Now that you're here, I think the most appropriate turn of phrase would be ' _piss off'_. Are you here to ruin my afterlife?"

Sirius chuckled, with obvious amusement at Regulus' expense, before he shook his head and leaned forward once more.

"This isn't your afterlife, little brother."

Regulus frowned; bewilderment coming upon him, then.

"You see, you gave your life to evoke the Old Magic blood protection once more to save Harry from the Killing Curse – linking it quite nicely, I might add, with the channelling of the Black Ancestral call to arms – but the things is – the price for Black blood spilled in that regard had already been made."

Regulus stared at him, while Sirius grinned even wider than before.

"And there was you trying to steal my thunder."

Regulus shook his head; "That doesn't make any sense. Why would the binding of life forces even be documented if the protection carries on indefinitely?"

"Oh, because it doesn't. It only does so if dunderass Dark Wizards happen to take the protection into their own bloody veins and ensure the sacrifice remains eternal so long as they live."

Regulus got a slow smile, realising then, what had happened.

That Dumbledore had been right.

That – even with his and Severus and Lily's meddling – the Old Magic still stood.

"But…what does that mean?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think it means, little brother?"

When Regulus didn't answer, Sirius leaned forward with a gleam in his eye; "You oughta know better than anyone. Love trumps Blood _every fucking time_."

Regulus rolled his eyes at Sirius' overdramatics.

"Is this your round-about way of telling me that I have to go back?"

" _Have to_ go back?" Sirius repeated the statement, with an irritatingly ponderous tone; "You make it seem as if that would be a _punishment_ , little brother."

Regulus pursed his lips together; "No."

"No? You don't want to go back?"

"No, it wouldn't be a punishment to do so."

"Ah, how the tides have changed!" Sirius declared, making Regulus release an exaggerated, exasperated breath through pursed lips as he glanced away.

"And here was me thinking all my baby brother ever wanted was _peace,"_ Sirius said, and Regulus reluctantly met Sirius' eyes at the jibe and the nod to his regrets, before his brother went on; "In any case, you have a choice. You can say here, at peace – if you can call it such, considering you've got me for company for all eternity –"

Regulus chuckled then, before Sirius went on.

" _Or_ you can say 'stuff peace'. And go back to that gorgeous little family of yours that would no doubt welcome you back with _tears of joy_ and _open arms_."

Regulus swallowed, glancing away.

Sirius tapped a finger to his lips; "Gotta say, the Regulus _I_ knew – well…I'd bet my very last knut that he'd go with peace."

Regulus met Sirius' eyes at that.

Then Sirius smiled.

Sincerely, this time, for the first time since he'd come.

"But that's not you anymore, is it?"

Regulus felt a flutter within him – knowing it were true – that he'd choose Julia and Malachi and Nicholas over anything, now.

Now that his debts were finally paid and Voldemort was gone.

But then, still, he could barely believe that he was being granted the chance.

Another chance to do it all over and start again.

"Yeah," Sirius said, interrupting his thoughts with a slow nod and a continuing smile that was edging very close to pride now; "I think you'll choose _life_ , little brother."

Regulus couldn't help himself, getting a sincere smile of his own as he looked back at his brother.

Then Sirius made a face, leaning forward, so they were almost nose to nose.

"But there's a catch."

Regulus stared back at him.

He had a fairly good idea as to what it was.

And Sirius raised an eyebrow – seeming to realise Regulus understood – before he winked at him.

"Your move, Reg."

The was a second of stillness, while the mist around them thickened and descended inwards.

Before Regulus woke once more in the ruins of the Foundation with a gasp.


	93. May 1996: Coming Home

Word spread quickly.

There were celebrations. People linking arms and dancing in their street – Harry heard it, from the people who continued to flood into Hogwarts, determined to shake his hand – each of them hailing the 'Boy Who Lived' and Regulus Black, when it trickled down through the grapevine, exactly what and how it had all happened.

It was explained to all, including Harry, himself – by his mum and by Snape – so that, by early evening, everyone knew of it.

Voldemort's fall and the Black Magic and the breaking of the Imperius Curses and the fleeing of the Death Eaters that still remained loyal – doomed to either Azkaban or the Dementors Kiss – and Harry's, ultimate, fate which awaited him.

Daphne took Harry's hand in hers – a welcome hand, rather the hundreds it seemed he had shaken that day – where they sat at the Slytherin table, still in the Great Hall where it had happened, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked, quietly, "Do you want to leave?"

Harry swallowed as he lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and making her smile, before he shrugged; "Doesn't really make a difference where I am, does it? Still doesn't change it – what's gonna happen."

That, soon, his own magic would be gone.

Harry drew in a breath, telling himself it was worth it – of course it was – for all of the smiles and the joy and the laughter that currently filled the hall. All of the grateful, celebrating people who had come to show him their respect and thank him for all he had done.

The war, all the pain and the suffering, finally coming to an end.

"Hey –"

Harry glanced up at the voice, feeling his mum's hand on his shoulder; "How are you holding up, Sweetheart?"

Harry blushed at being addressed as such in front of Daphne, while his girlfriend, noticing his redden cheeks, fought a smile.

Harry nodded, forcing a smile, but it still came out a bit sarcastic; "Great."

"Excuse me, Harry."

Harry glanced around at the sound of the familiar voice, and he found it easy to smile when he saw Luna standing there, her father a few feet behind, engaged in animated conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Hey, Luna. You alright?"

Luna smiled at him and held out a blue flower his way; "It's customary in certain Wicca cultures to gift a person with a blue flower, to express their gratitude for a sacrifice that has been made by someone on their behalf –"

Harry eyed it for a second before he smiled, taking the flower she held out, and nodded.

" – thank you, Harry."

Harry eyed it again, before meeting Luna's eyes with a grin; "Actually, Malachi's sacrificed a lot more than I have, you know. I could give this to _him_ for you, if you'd like?"

Luna's lips pursed together, in order to suppress the smile that played upon them while her cheeks reddened at Harry's suggestion. But she said nothing – simply made a little 'hum' under her breath – and stepped away, returning to her father's side.

Harry heard Daphne chuckle beside him, as his mum squeezed his shoulder and stepped away – called over by Professor McGonagall – and he placed the flower Luna had given him on his lap.

He whispered a spell – not really knowing how he knew it, thinking perhaps Sirius just knew what he wanted to do – and cast a charm to protect the flower from any damage – along with another little spell – before he tucked it into his robes and reached for Daphne's hand again.

He found that when he was sitting there, his hand in Daphne's – with eyes all for his girlfriend – that people were more inclined to give him some space and celebrate amongst themselves for a bit.

Daphne leaned in, as if sensing his thoughts, giving him a kiss – which he enjoyed, immensely – before she drew back, slowly, and her eyes brightened when she found someone over Harry's shoulder.

A delighted laugh escaped her as Harry turned around, seeing, when he did, that Veronica Greengrass had come into Hall – already reuniting with Astoria – and Daphne sprung to her feet – sharing a brief, elated glance with Harry – before she hurried over to greet her mother.

The Greengrass girls hugging in together in the middle of the hall, delighted to be reunited.

Harry smiled – warmed by the scene, a welcome reminder that all of this _was_ worth it – but he didn't linger there long, getting to his feet before more people could approach him where he now sat, alone, and began to make his way in the direction of his mum and Professor McGonagall who, Harry noticed, were now being joined by Snape.

Snape who had returned, it seemed, from the Foundation without Mr. Black – simply holding a portrait in his hand as he reached them.

Harry frowned, trying again to feel for Malachi's dad's magical presence amongst those that still coursed through him – accidentally making a glass smash to his left when he did – before he quickly clamped down on the magic again and pulled up his occlumency barriers, and began to make his way towards where they stood.

"Harry –"

He was stopped by Remus – a welcome interruption – and Harry smiled, turning and going to him – hugging him tight when he reached him; "Hey, Uncle Remus."

"How are you doing?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that," Harry shrugged; "I thought I'd die. Now I'm alive. It's good, right?"

Remus looked at him, smiling proudly at how he was taking it – the actual cost Harry would soon have to make – before he nodded; "You really are the best of men, Harry."

Harry blushed at the compliment – remembering Sirius' words from earlier that day – and started to tell Remus who he'd seen – he'd surely want to know – but his Uncle Remus went on, before he could.

"Speaking of which, with this victory, Dora and I have celebrated by finally setting a date for the wedding."

Harry smiled, widely – " _Yeah_?" – glad to hear of some news that wasn't about him, right now.

"Really," Remus nodded; "August twenty-fourth, if all goes well. Dora would like to have it on the site where the Foundation stood. In a way of honouring her mother. And her cousin."

Harry frowned; "Like…in the ruins?"

Remus grinned; "We'll do it up a bit. Put up some lighting charms."

Harry chuckled, nodding; "Right."

"Of course, I was hoping I'd have my best man by my side for that?"

Harry smiled.

"Yeah. _Of course_. Count me in, Uncle Remus. I wouldn't miss it."

"And Grace will – no doubt – be delighted to be a flower girl once again."

Harry laughed, nodding.

"Yeah she would. Where's Tonks, now?"

Remus glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the back of the Hall, and – when Harry followed his gaze – he saw them, too.

Tonks and Draco Malfoy sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table, talking subduedly. Cousins, both of them losing both parents to the war.

Harry swallowed at the thought, Malachi coming to mind, then.

"With what happened to Draco's father…" Remus began, while Harry looked back at him; "Dora hoped to ensure Draco knew that he wasn't alone. That he has family here. If he agrees, he'll be coming home with us for now."

Harry smiled. Not at all surprised that Remus would do that, before he stepped forward, giving him another hug.

He stayed there a while, talking to Remus, but he could see Snape and his mum talking, heatedly, with the portrait that Snape had brought with him from the Foundation and, when he could, made his excuses and stepped away, coming to Snape's side where he still stood with his mum and Professor McGonagall.

"Dead as a doornail. Completely gone, I tell you," Phineas Black was saying, as Harry reached them.

"Then where is his body? Did one of the aurors come to retrieve him, as requested?" Snape pressed.

"How would I be aware of it, if they did, Headmaster Snape?" Phineas Black eyed him; "In case you hadn't noticed, there was a battle of exceedingly great proportions taking place within these very walls – of which I just so happen to have another portrait – and why in Salazar's name would I have lingered staring at my great-great-grandson's _dead corpse_ for any longer than necessary?"

Snape stared at the portrait and Harry could see the flicker of hope that Harry had given him – when he'd told him he couldn't sense Mr. Black's magic within him – die away with the confirmation of Regulus Black's death.

Snape nodded, flicking his wand so that the portrait reduced in size, and then tucked it into his cloak, awkwardly.

"But –" Harry began, his own hope dying away with Snape's.

"I also saw it, Harry," Snape said – and Harry could tell it was a struggle for him to speak it, aloud – Snape lowering his eyes as he went on; "I was there to bear witness to his death."

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat – at the realization of what Malachi must now be going through, remembering the pain of loss, well, after Sirius – and he shook his head; "But – you just said his body isn't even there –"

"I sent a Patronus, so that it could be retrieved. Soon, his wife will be called before the Ministry for identification purposes –"

The thought made Harry feel sickened, while Snape went on.

" – though, if what you believe is true, there is no doubt in my mind that it is with his wife – and family – that Regulus would have gone."

Harry looked at Snape, sharply; "Well…let's go back, then. And check. Grace is there, anyway, and if Mr. Black isn't…"

His mum nodded, then, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder; "Yes. It's late, now. And this has been more than enough for one day."

Harry leaned into her, slightly – not even feeling embarrassed to do so – and Snape nodded, the three of them making to leave.

"Severus."

Harry heard Professor McGonagall's voice speak quietly behind him – calling Snape back – and Harry glanced over his shoulder as his mum drew him away, catching – as he did – the small smile that she gave Snape – and that he returned with a nod – before the three of them made their way back to the island that the Blacks lived upon.

"Harry!" Grace greeted him, excitedly – delighted to see him back – despite the late hour, throwing herself into his arms when they stepped back across the threshold; "You came back! I thought you were going to stay!"

"Young lady, shouldn't you be in bed?" his mum remarked, trying to sound unimpressed but failing, as she ruffled Grace's hair.

"I'm helping Julia – the baby's awake again – she asked if I could get a clean blanket. He was sick."

"Oh dear," his mum remarked, as if with fond recollection, as she pressed a kiss to Grace's head.

"Grace, is Mr. Black home yet?" Harry asked her, not waiting for any more pleasantries to be shared.

Grace shook her head; "Nope. You're back first! But hopefully he comes home soon, because Julia and Malachi have been crying today, so they need his cuddles."

Grace went by them – not noticing the heavy glances shared between those who'd arrived – and went to the kitchen counter, pulling down one of the several blankets that were washed and folded upon it, and began to make her way back to the stairs.

"Stay with Daddy, Sweetheart," his mum stopped her with a hand to her shoulder; "I'll take the blanket up to Julia."

Grace looked hesitant – clearly trying to decide if she'd rather play with the baby or with her dad – before she nodded and handed over the blanket, his mum disappearing upstairs to Julia's side.

Harry only hung about for a minute – Grace quickly pouncing on Snape and insisting that he read her a story – before he followed in his mum's footsteps.

Harry headed up the stairs, his eyes going to the open door of Mr. Black and Julia's room as he passed it – and he could see Julia held tight in his mum's arms as she sobbed, quietly, on her shoulder – and Harry drew in a breath – struck by the sight of her grief – before heading further down the hall.

He knocked on Malachi's door, uncertainly, not really expecting Malachi to want to see anyone – he never usually did, after all, when he was hurting.

But it was pulled open, quickly, and Malachi stood there – eyes reddened – and he didn't look at all surprised to see him.

He guessed his dad – or maybe Julia – had let on to Malachi after they'd left; that Harry wasn't really going to die.

Still, there was relief in Malachi's eyes at seeing him there. As if, even though Malachi knew Harry wasn't going to die, he had still wanted – needed – his best friend back with him.

Harry stepped forward at the thought – realizing that Malachi did – the two of them hugging each other tight in the doorway.

* * *

Harry – all of them – barely slept through the night.

And it was at the crack of dawn – after Harry accidentally smashed a window, the magic starting to get out of control – that he and Snape had gone down to the basement; finding, there, the potion that Snape had already prepared for him.

"I – uh – just have to drink this?"

Harry eyed the goblet that Snape had handed over to him; "And then, that's it? The powers go back and…and mine along with them?"

"There is an enchantment that I will pass as you consume it," Snape explained to him.

Harry nodded and lifted it without hesitation to his lips – no point beating around the bush, after all – but Snape held up a hand, touching the goblet and stopping him.

"Harry."

Harry met Snape's eyes – surprised at the intensity within them – and he hesitated, then, under the expected fierceness of Snape's gaze.

Just when Harry would much rather that the man be all serious and stoic, now would be the moment he crumbled into a regretful mess.

"As I said previously," Snape said, more composedly than his gaze had implied he would be; "It is possible to bind the powers within yourself rather than release them. So that we may –"

"You mean so I could hold onto the curse that'd carry down to all my kids and grandkids?" Harry shot him a look; "No thanks."

Snape's lips twitched; "No. It would simply be for long enough that I might have time to find a solution to the current circumstances. There may be a way that I could –"

"No," Harry stopped him; "No more…I just want all of this behind us, now. I don't want to be living anymore lies or silly fantasies. I get it, okay, I do. You – we – had to do this to bring him down. I'm not mad. I'm just…ready for it to be over."

Snape looked at him, consideringly for a moment, before he nodded.

Conceded, once more, to Harry's wishes.

Harry lifted the goblet, downing the potion in one gulp, while he felt the warmth – the _burn –_ of the spell that Snape cast upon him and he felt it all twist and turn within him, before the searing pull and pouring of the Black Magic leaving him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the feel of it – his hands shaking and his feet unsteady on the ground, a gasp and a groan escaping him, way _worse_ than how it had felt when it came to him the day before – before he remained unable to keep upright and fell to the ground.

The magic going, going and gone, as Harry trembled upon the floor, vaguely hearing Snape's voice calling to him through the haze of it all.

It took a second for Harry to come back to himself.

He felt Snape's hand upon his arm when he did and met the concerned eyes of the man beside him.

Harry swallowed, hard, looking at Snape, uncertainly.

He couldn't feel the Black magic anymore, no.

But he could still feel something – his own magic – deep within him.

There, as it had always been.

"Um…" Harry frowned, wondering what had gone wrong; "Did it work?"

* * *

The morning light glowed and glimmered across the train station.

"One-way ticket from Berwick to Oban – two changes – that's sixty-six pounds, forty-five."

"Ah."

Regulus cleared his throat, before he leaned his elbows on the counter of the ticket booth and flashed the girl behind it his most charming smile.

"Any chance of getting that on _credit_ , Sweetheart?"

The girl blushed and smiled back at him, shaking her head.

"Regulus."

He looked around, sharply, at the familiar voice – seeing Kingsley Shacklebolt standing a few feet away – and Regulus went still with surprise for a moment, before he cleared his throat, giving the girl another smile, and stepped out of the line to approach him.

He felt strangely uneasy and exposed, as he did, making his way towards a fellow wizard – if Regulus, himself, could even be referred to as such, anymore – without his own magic.

Regulus gave him a nod.

"Morning, Kingsley. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Nor I, you," Kingsley said, eyeing him, carefully – a little bit suspiciously – before he frowned; "Rumour has it that you _perished_ yesterday afternoon in order to assist Harry Potter in defeating Voldemort."

Regulus cleared his throat; "Ah. Well. It does sound like my role has been somewhat embellished a bit."

Kingsley eyed him, before he glanced around the train station – that it had taken Regulus _hours_ to reach by foot, after he'd set off from the Foundation, cursing the fact he'd picked Northumberland rather than London, with a far stronger Wizarding presence nearby, to place it – before he looked back at Regulus, with obvious understanding in his eyes.

"You've lost your magic."

Regulus immediately lifted his shoulders, dismissively.

"Happens to the best of us," he said, lightly.

Kingsley smiled.

"May I offer you my assistance in getting you where you need to be? Home, perhaps?"

"Unfortunately, my home remains under the protection of the Fidelius. So, I can't speak the address."

"How about Oban, then. Did I hear that's where the train was going? Would that get you close enough?"

Regulus smiled, gratefully, nodding; "Yes. Thank you, Kingsley."

Kingsley chuckled, nodding that he follow him to somewhere unseen so that they could disapparate.

"I am quite certain, Regulus, that it is the rest of us who should be thanking you."

* * *

_"…that Severus Snape has been called before the Ministry this coming Thursday to explain himself with regards to murder – if that is the correct word for it now – of the beloved Albus Dumbledore…A courtesy, in lieu of arrest, apparently – though no doubt that would come, soon, should he choose not to show up. I must say, a trial at the public's expense does seem rather pointless in light of recent events, don't you think, now that Albus Dumbledore, himself – or rather, his portrait – has come to the man's defence…"_

Severus flicked his wand, turning off the radio, as Grace and Harry came into the dining room, their voices going, animatedly, despite the heavy weight than still hung over the Black household.

"If you _do_ get to keep your magic, you'll get to go back to Hogwarts with Malachi in September, won't you?" Grace remarked climbing up onto one of the chairs at the table.

"Uh – yeah. I guess," Harry shrugged, taking a seat beside her, speaking nonchalantly, as if he didn't quite want to get his hopes up.

His own magic still going strong, despite the spell to repay the ancestral debt being cast early that morning.

"And Daddy, too!" Grace went on, before looking at Severus with a frown; "Will you two being going back to Hogwarts and leaving me and Mummy, again?"

Severus lifted his eyebrows; "Leave you both? Perish the thought."

"I didn't think you'd want to go back there," Harry remarked, looking at Severus with a considering frown; "After –"

Severus met Harry's eyes; neither confirming nor denying the fact that, really, he had no intention of ever setting foot in the place again, if he could help it.

His days of teaching – at long last – to become a thing of distant, not-entirely-fond memory.

"But how come you've still got your magic, Harry?" Grace turned to Harry, curiously; "Mummy said when you and Daddy did the spell this morning, that it'd go away, and that I had to be e _xtra_ nice to you, to make you feel better."

Harry chuckled, sharing a look with Severus, before he ruffled her hair; "Is that right, hm?"

"Yep!"

"I dunno why they haven't taken it yet. Guess it takes a bit of time."

"Or maybe they don't want it, the people who said they'd take your magic away. Maybe you're not good enough at school. I saw your Transfiguration practice at the Foundation. Bit rubbish, wasn't it?"

"Watch it, Grace," Harry poked her in the side, making her laugh.

And then Harry met Severus eyes, curiously; "She's right, though. We did the spell this morning – shouldn't it have worked by now? I don't have the Black magic anymore. Just mine."

"The particulars are not well documented, with the magic being so rare. Most of it is hearsay. But – as has been established – it is expected that the magic from the living in the line who called upon the magic, give up their own in retribution for the crime of doing so."

Harry frowned.

"Then, why have they still not taken mine?"

Before Severus could answer, the door behind him sprung open, and he turned to face the unexpected arrival.

Stunned beyond belief to find _Regulus_ stepping into the house.

Regulus shot them a bright smile; "Well. Full house, is it? Good morning you lot!"

He shrugged out of his cloak, hanging it up on the peg at the door; "Did you know that it takes a _six-hour_ walk, three trains, one bus, and two bloody ferry rides to get here from the Foundation?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, walking up to Severus – who simply stood, staring at him in shock – before he grinned; "The sooner we move back to the mainland, the better. Thank Merlin I ran into Kingsley, or you'd have had to send out a search party."

"Mr. Black, we thought you were dead!" Grace blurted out, from where she sat at the table, looking as amazed as Severus felt.

"Hm. Not the only ones, from what I've heard, Miss Grace," Regulus said, giving her wink, before he smiled at Harry; "Not all I've heard either. Well done, Harry."

Harry smiled at him, past his own astonishment and relief at seeing him there; "Thanks, Mr. Black."

"How is this possible?"

Regulus met Severus' eyes at the blurted-out words.

"Apparently Dumbledore was right."

Severus stared back at him.

His next words ground out.

"I saw you die."

Regulus nodded, slowly – with a look of bashful regret in his eyes – before he lifted a shoulder in a shrug; "More fool you, Severus."

Regulus grinned.

Severus smirked, rolling his eyes, just as Regulus stepped in and embraced him.

Severus sighed, a little breath – a puff of amusement leaving him – before he leaned – only slightly – into it, if only for a moment.

The two of them lingering there – Severus feeling self-conscious when he heard his daughter's unabashed – " _aww!" –_ from the table, and Harry's chuckle at her commentary – before drawing back.

Regulus tugged on something from up his sleeve – his wand – that he twirled through his fingers, before he said; "Although our little dabble in the ancestral pond was not without consequence."

Regulus met his eyes, telling Severus what he was already beginning to guess.

The simple reason, that the Black Ancestors had not taken Harry's magic with their own because they had – already – come to collect.

The debt already paid with Regulus' magic, instead.

"We'll fix it," Severus said, immediately.

Regulus made a face, shooting Severus a look, before he placed the wand down upon the counter and turned his back on it.

He cleared his throat, speaking more softly as he met Severus' eyes.

"Where are they?"

* * *

Regulus' footsteps slowed as he reached the threshold to his and Julia's bedroom, and he was immediately warmed by the sight that greeted him.

Julia was lying on the bed – their baby son in her arms – and Malachi was sat there on the bed next them, their eyes upon the bundle that cooed up at them.

Malachi reached up, chuckling his little brother's chin.

"He really does look like Dad, doesn't he?" Malachi murmured.

Julia nodded – and the warmth Regulus felt was shaken a bit, at the look of obvious grief on her face that she quickly pushed down – as she said; "Yes," she put an arm around Malachi, giving him a kiss on the head; "He's all you two."

"No," Malachi grinned, blushing a bit under his stepmum's affection; "He'll have brown eyes, right? Like you."

Julia smiled, giving Malachi a little nudge.

"Did you and Dad pick a name?"

"Ah –" Julia grinned, meeting Malachi's eyes; " – actually, I heard that _you_ and your Dad picked a name."

Malachi looked a little bit embarrassed then, shrugging, before asking, shyly; "Did you like it?"

Julia nodded, looking at him, warmly; "I love it, Malachi."

Malachi smiled, looking down at the baby, just as Julia did too, saying, softly.

"Nicholas Regulus Black."

Regulus cleared his throat.

"Ah ah –"

Two heads turned sharply in his direction, as he held up a finger.

" – I _did_ stipulate no stars."

Julia and Malachi stared at him, as if unable to believe their eyes – and it took his breath away to see both pain and hope warring within them – before their disbelieving looks turned to ones of amazement.

"Dad!"

Malachi ran to him first – as Regulus came into the room – and his son threw his arms around his neck, making sounds that were a mix of both laughter and sobs as he held him tight.

"Hey, Beansprout," Regulus murmured, holding his boy close.

The two of them stood like that for a minute, Regulus slowly drawing back to meet his eyes, and he reached up caressing his cheek with a smile for a moment – delighted to be given the chance to set his eyes upon his son once again – before Malachi smiled and stepped back, so that he could go to Julia.

Regulus made his way over, taking a seat on the bed beside her, smiling as he reached up to stroke her hair; "Wife. I must say, you're looking rather stunned."

Julia's eyes flickered back and forth between his – taking him in – as if still unable to believe he was even there.

And Regulus was simply caught in her gaze – amazed himself – for a moment.

Still not quite believing that this was really happening.

That he was actually here and that this was truly their future.

That they were even going to have one, at all, after all he'd told her since he'd met her.

That their time was short.

And that he hadn't, truly, deserved even that.

But then, for he and Julia to be together, Regulus had always thought it would be him pulling her into the shadows.

He had never once thought that it would be her pulling him into the light.

"You were dead," she whispered; "I got your letter."

Regulus leaned in, touching his forehead to hers, his voice a whisper; "Can't get rid of me that easily."

Julia's eyes closed then – a tear slipping down her cheek – and Regulus took her face in his hands and kissed her, fiercely, pouring everything he felt for her – for them and for their family – into that one act.

He felt the little sob she made against his lips, one hand upon the side of his neck as she returned his affections – seeming to lose herself in him for a moment, as he did her – and then they drew back, their eyes meeting past the glimmer of both their tears.

Regulus sighed, leaning his forehead back to hers for a moment, before his eyes turned to the baby still cradled in one of his wife's arms, who's eyes were upon them, widely.

As if witnessing something truly shocking, indeed.

Regulus chuckled and reached up, caressing the top of his head; "Better get used to _that_ , Little Sprout."

Nicholas cooed and wiggled beneath his touch, making the rest of them in the room laugh.

Regulus drew Julia closer with one arm and held out a hand in the direction of Malachi, who was watching with a look of both embarrassment and happiness at his dad's return.

Malachi came to them.

His son's smile big and bright and this – his baby's innocent gaze and son's smile and his wife's kiss – and these three, these _four;_ it was everything.

They were everything.

Malachi sat down on the other side of Julia and Regulus drew them all in, holding them close as they laughed, softly, together in each other's arms.

For Regulus to finally have and feel all of this.

It was pure and utter magic.

* * *

Harry glanced out the window at the side of the door that led to the porch, seeing Malachi sitting on the step by himself.

The blue gerbera flower that Harry had given him from Luna was held between Malachi's thumb and index finger, as he twirled it between them, looking thoughtfully at the petals.

Harry smirked and opened the door, stepping out, and he saw Malachi shift where he sat, quickly putting the flower down next to himself on the porch – trying to hide it from sight – as Harry approached and took a seat beside him.

"You know –" Harry began, before Malachi could say anything; " – I used the Black superpowers to put a little charm on that for you."

Malachi rolled his eyes, before looking at him with a frown.

"Yeah –" Harry nodded, grinning widely; " – I charmed the petals. You can pick off one a day, from now until September, the last one plucked the morning that you _finally_ get to kiss her again."

Malachi shoved him and they both laughed.

Malachi lifted the flower back up – knowing, then, it was pointless to hide it – and looked down at it fondly, while the two of them just sat there, together, in silence.

After everything that had happened this past week, the two of them just, finally, taking it all in.

"Can you believe it's really over?" Malachi eventually asked him, quietly.

Harry shook his head.

"Not really. So used to living with it hanging over us all the time."

Malachi swallowed, glancing at him, and giving him a smile; "Least you're coming back to Hogwarts this September, though, right?"

Harry got a little jolt of what felt like shame – that Malachi's dad had actually paid the price that Harry though he was going to have to – but, before he could say so, the door opened behind them and Mr. Black, himself, came out.

"Aw, that's what I like to see. You two boys out in the sun. As it should be."

Malachi smiled at him.

Mr. Black glanced at the flower he held with a grin, his eyes getting a twinkle.

"Ah. And when will I be getting introduced to the young lady who has _stolen_ my boy's heart?"

"Try _never_ , Dad."

Harry and Mr. Black laughed.

"Did Dora tell you she's set a date for the wedding when she was over this morning?" Malachi asked, curiously, sharing a look with Harry.

Mr. Black nodded; "That she did. They'd like to have it at the Foundation. August. We should have it back up and running again by that time."

Harry perked up; "You're opening the Foundation back up again?"

"Apparently so."

Mr. Black cast a fond look Malachi's way, making it clear that his son had done some convincing on that front.

"That's great," Harry told him, "People need it. And you, Mr. Black. They'll still follow you like before. Even though…"

Harry trailed off, feeling a little bit uncomfortable even mentioning it – not sure, exactly, how Mr. Black felt about losing his magic.

Though it wasn't really that hard to guess.

Mr. Black smiled, looking a little humbled, and said nothing – a sure sign that he was touched – before Harry went on.

"I saw Sirius."

He'd expected Mr. Black to look surprised or, even, uneasy at the mention.

Sirius had always been somewhat of a sensitive subject.

Instead, Malachi's dad just smiled – entirely at peace with the mention – and nodded; "Me too."

Harry drew in a breath, realizing he'd experienced the same thing that he had.

"Thank you, Mr. Black. For…you know…dying for me and all that."

Mr. Black smiled, then, before giving a little chuckle.

"Harry," Mr. Black shook his head – and Harry thought he meant to decline the gratitude – but, instead, he just said; "Call me Regulus."

Harry smiled.

The door opened up behind them, then, and Snape stepped out, giving Regulus a nod.

"Ah. Severus, here, is giving me a little 'lift' over to Dora's," Regulus said, addressing Malachi now; "To speak to Draco. Would you like to come?"

Malachi shook his head; "Think he'd like it better if it was just you."

Regulus didn't protest that – likely knowing it was true – and squeezed Malachi's shoulder as he stepped down off the porch; "Well. I won't be too long."

"With Draco?" Malachi chuckled; "Think it's gonna take a while, Dad."

Regulus gave him a gentle shove and a wink.

Snape stepped down the porch, following Regulus, and he met Harry's eyes when he stood before him on the grass; "And you? Perhaps you'd like the opportunity to speak with Lupin?"

Harry shook his head, not wanting to be any more on an intruder on Draco's grief than Malachi did.

"Nah. Malachi's right. Malfoy's not gonna want me showing up for that. And…" Harry hesitated, before he added, almost hesitantly; "I kinda just want to go home."

Snape kept his eyes on him, consideringly for a moment.

Before he gave him a nod.

"Very well. Upon my return, that is what shall be done. Will you inform your mother and sister?"

Harry smiled and nodded that he would, before Snape and Regulus headed from the house.

He glanced over at Malachi where he was still sat beside him, noticing his friend's eyes were back on the flower in his hand, and Harry couldn't help but snicker at how obviously besotted Malachi was.

No excuses, now, not to finally go after what he actually wanted.

"You know, you _could_ just write her a letter," Harry suggested, in mock-sympathy, before placing a hand upon his chest; " _Dearest Luna. I do so wonder if the blue of this flower brings out the blue of your eyes quite as captivatingly as they do mine –"_

Malachi shoved him and the two of them erupted into peals of laughter, once more.

* * *

"What do you intend to do for Draco?"

Regulus shrugged; "Whatever he wants."

Severus smirked as he and Regulus made the slow walk up to the gate of the Lupins' at the top of the slope.

"You know, I just can't – for the life of me – believe that _Lucius_ killed Nagini," Regulus remarked, his tone expressing both surprise and just the slightest hint of teasing, before he went on – _all_ teasing with his next words; "I always thought it'd be you."

"So it would have been," Severus conceded, ignoring the twinkle in Regulus' eyes; "Had Lucius not –"

"Stolen your thunder?" Regulus suggested, lightly, with faux-innocent eyes.

Severus glowered at him.

"It was not a _contest,_ Regulus –"

Regulus burst into snickers.

" – and considering what happened in the aftermath of Lucius' attack upon the Dark Lord's final horcrux, one might consider my failure a blessing."

"A blessing," Regulus chuckled, nodding; "Speaking of blessings – I really ought to thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there," Regulus remarked, lightly – as if he were referring to one of the hideous work functions he had always insisted Severus must attend, rather than what they had both expected were Regulus' last breaths – before he added; "I know that wouldn't have been…how you particularly wanted to spend your afternoon."

"I imagine it beats frolicking in the clouds with imbeciles, as you spent yours."

Regulus laughed fully then, nodding his head, as they reached the gate. But his friend's amusement died away as he eyed it, uncertainly, before he turned – clearing his throat with obvious discomfort – to speak, with a light tone that belied his unease.

"Uh – Dora said it'd be warded," Regulus explained, before adding the password; "Howell."

Severus hesitated, then, glancing at Regulus who didn't quite meet his eyes – an old habit that, apparently, hadn't died along with him – before he spoke.

"There may be a way," Severus suggested; "With the Foundation expected to be restored by the end of the summer, I will be able to pull together the resources to form a Research Group –"

Regulus held up a hand, stopping him, and shaking his head.

"No. Don't waste any more of your time trying to fix the past, Severus," Regulus said, before he shook his head; "I certainly won't be. In fact –" Regulus smiled; "Most of my very best memories of these past few years just so happen to have been spent with my son in the world _without_ magic. And those memories were no less precious without it."

Severus smiled, slightly, nodding slowly, before he lifted his wand and released the wards on the Lupins' gate.

Regulus raised his eyebrows, before stepping ahead; "Well. Wish me luck. I think I just might need it for this one."

Severus smirked while Regulus grinned, before his friend headed up the path to go to his cousin.

Severus lingered, just long enough to see Regulus step over the threshold, and for Lupin to meet Severus' eyes when he noticed him where he stood at the end of the path.

Lupin smiled, giving him a nod; "Severus."

Severus inclined his chin – greeting him in turn – before he turned and made his way back to the Blacks for the children.

* * *

Lily placed one of the blue gerberas she held upon the earth in front of the white marble headstone.

Her eyes lingered on the words upon it – that she'd only read once before, since she'd had it commissioned – as she slowly straightened back up to her feet.

_James Potter, Born 27 March 1960, Died 11 August 1994  
Beloved by family, cherished by friends._

Lily smiled, lifting her eyes skywards for a second – wonderingly, after what Harry had told her, about the two who bickered and watched over them – before she walked the short distance back a few rows, stopping before the other resting place that she'd come to see.

_Sirius Orion Black, Born 3 November 1959, Died 12 May 1988  
The greatest gift in life is love._

Lily drew in a breath, as she read the words that Regulus had chosen for his brother, before she knelt and placed the single flower she held upon the earth, her voice a whisper when she let her hand linger upon the dirt beneath her fingers.

"Thank you."

There was the slightest stir in the breeze that was – undoubtedly – just a breeze but it still made her smile – for she always was one to believe in fantasies a little – before she slowly got to her feet and stepped by the gravestone.

Her hand trailed upon the white marble as she passed, slowly making her way from the graveyard.

Leaving behind those who had been loved and then lost for them.

She was standing at the door to the cottage before long – having told Harry to let Severus know she'd catch up to them and not to wait – and she knew from the silence within that Severus and the children hadn't arrived yet.

So, Lily lingered there, too, her eyes on the house – on the home – that so much hope and love and laughter had been made within.

Finally letting go – allowing it to drift away in the breeze – any of the pain that still clung on and whispered in those deep corners of her mind.

There was the sound of a 'pop' of apparition behind her – a brief warning of peace about to be shattered – before she heard Grace and Harry's animated voices as they hurried up the path.

"Mummy, you beat us!" Grace called, as she ran up to her with Harry close on her heels, while Severus made his way more slowly up the path behind them.

"Yes, I did," Lily smiled, turning to greet them; "Were you dilly dallying, young lady?"

Grace shrugged; "I only dilly dally when there's something worth dilly dallying for, Mummy."

"Oh?"

"The baby! Nicholas!" Grace said, as if it were obvious, before she announced; "I want a baby brother, too, like Malachi."

Lily and Harry laughed at that – Lily sharing a look with Severus who looked both amused and determined; the answer to that being a very firm _no_ – which only made Lily laugh more heartily, before she lifted her wand and flicked it, releasing the wards, and the door clicked open.

Grace pushed passed her, hurrying in first, while Harry followed – a little bit more slowly, almost hesitantly as he started to look back over his shoulder at Severus – only increasing his speed when Grace called back – _"Harry, come on!" –_ and then Lily and Severus stepped more slowly across the threshold as the children disappeared into the living room.

"Our daughter certainly knows what she wants," Lily remarked with a fond smile to herself, as Severus shut the door behind them.

"Well, I am afraid she is to be disappointed," Severus answered, making Lily chuckle – though it was something that had already been discussed between them, years before; no more children – before he added; "Unfortunately, despite our current good fortune, our daughter will have to learn to bear the disappointment of not always getting what she desires."

Lily shot him a look, sceptically, a smile playing on her lips; "Oh, and you're the one that's going to be teaching her that, are you? She will have you wrapped back around her finger by Wednesday, let me assure you."

Severus pursed his lips together, suppressing a smile, before Lily stepping away, going on.

"In fact, you might even learn something, yourself, from Grace. After all, there no harm in expressing what you want once in a while. Never know. You might actually get it."

Lily pulled open the cupboard door above the counter and reached up, taking down two teacups – a relaxing cuppa at home, no better way to relax after all that had happened this past week – but she was halted by Severus' matter-of-face voice speaking from where he still stood some feet away from her.

"I want you to be my wife."

Lily hesitated in her movements, her eyes on the counter.

She got a slow smile to herself, before she turned and looked at him over her shoulder, meeting his eyes, smiling impishly.

"Is that right?"

Severus simply stood there, looking at her seriously.

Lily's smile started to widen, but she pursed her lips together – as Severus would do – to suppress it and lifted her chin and an eyebrow, expectantly.

Severus released a breath – a puff of amusement – before he nodded, his eyes rolling ever so slightly, before he walked the few steps up to where she stood and took her hands in his.

"Will you marry me?"

Lily started to giggle then – as if a young girl in love – and she nodded.

"Yes."

Severus smiled, then, not suppressing his happiness this time, and he leaned down, kissing her softly.

His hand came up to her hair – stroking gently – when he drew back, green eyes meeting black as they stood there; both, she was sure, barely able to believe they had arrived here, at last.

"When will we do it?" Lily asked him, keen to make it happen as quickly as possible.

"Perhaps the summer?" Severus suggested, before adding without the same enthusiasm by which he'd asked her to wed him, "Regulus expects that the Foundation will be ready for the wedding of Lupin and Miss Tonks by that time –"

Lily touched a finger to his lips, smiling and shaking her head.

"Too long."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

Lily smiled more widely, "Besides, I know how much you _hate_ weddings."

Severus glanced away, another smile playing on his lips once more, before Lily went on.

"You've already put on a good show – for far too long – of enjoying things I know you've hated having to do on behalf of this family –"

Severus met her eyes.

" – and our first steps into our future is _not_ going to be anything like that. That's behind us now. No more pretending, as Grace would call it, for any of us."

Severus nodded, and then the tiniest slither of a smile was back.

Lily took his hands back into hers, going on.

"So – we'll go to the Ministry. Just you, me and the kids. Drag along a couple of witnesses –" Lily's eyes twinkled; "If you can possibly put up with Regulus' teasing about it, at least, for the day –"

Severus smirked.

" – and we'll make it official. The four of us; a family. As soon as we possibly can."

Severus nodded and she could see that he was touched. Before he raised his eyebrows.

"Well. It just so happens that I am being summoned before the Ministry later this week. We could – how do they put it – 'kill two birds with one stone'?"

Lily laughed, fully then, shaking her head, before she stepped in closer and drew him back down to her – _"so romantic" –_ and then she kissed him, delighted that the wait would not be long.

"Mummy! Daddy!"

The two of them drew apart, slowly, smiling at one another at the welcome sound of their daughter's call in their home.

"Harry's stuck setting this up for me! Come help!"

Lily chuckled and the two of them headed into the living room, finding Harry and Grace sitting in front of the fireplace with a muggle boardgame – Mousetrap – before them, that Grace had been given for Christmas from Julia, it's pieces scattered in a mess on the rug in front of them.

"I'm not stuck," Harry rolled his eyes; "It's just fiddly. You're just too impatient, Grace."

"Well, Daddy can use his magic and fix it all more quickly, can't you Daddy?"

Severus shared an amused look with Lily, as she took a seat on the couch behind them and shook his head; "I'm afraid I cannot. Patience, as your brother implies, is a virtue, Grace –" he glanced at Harry over Grace's head; " – as your brother already knows."

Harry's hands halted in his attempt to put together the game and met Severus' eyes, getting a smile and nodding, before going back to what he was doing.

Grace huffed as Severus took a seat next to Lily, his hand finding hers, and she thought she saw Harry blush a bit when he noticed.

At the open affection between them that would, soon, become common place amongst them.

"Fine," Grace grumbled, before handing over another piece of the plastic toy to Harry – with her continuing impatience obvious – before she looked over her shoulder at Severus; "But you have to play it with us then, when we're done."

"I am certain your mother and I could manage that."

Grace beamed at them, before turning back to Harry.

"Isn't it good to be home, Harry? It's all of us here, together, for the first time ever!"

Harry glanced at Grace, his movements slowly slightly, before he met Lily's eyes where she sat – still leaning in close to Severus – and then he smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. It is."

Lily smiled, warmly, back at her son, where he sat on the floor next to his sister.

Harry went back to what he was doing, his and Grace's bickering voices – interrupted, now and again, with the sounds of teasing and of laughter – filling the room, and Lily felt Severus' hand squeeze hers.

She leaned her head upon his shoulder, just basking in it.

Reality.

The war was won.

Her family was safe and happy and whole.

They – and their loved ones – having finally travelled the long, broken and beaten road that had, finally, brought them all home.

_**~Fin~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are all done! For all of you who made it this far, I hope you enjoyed how everything wrapped up. It's all been a bit of a rollercoaster.
> 
> I really want to say thank you so much to all of you who have been along for this ride. Especially all of those who have posted comments with your thoughts and your amazing encouragement. 
> 
> Hope you all have Happy New Year!


	94. Festive Special - December 1996: Coming Home for Christmas

**Coming Home for Christmas**

_December 1996..._

The Hogwarts Express slowed as it reached the terminal at King's Cross Station.

It still felt bewildering for Harry to even be aboard it at all.

Especially with Malachi who – until that summer – had never actually used it, either.

It had never been safe.

Now, though, on this late afternoon in December, he and Malachi stood from their seats in the carriage that they had spent the past few hours – laughing and snuggled in with their girlfriends – as the train gradually came to a stop.

Harry pulled down Daphne's bag from the luggage rack, handing it over to her, before getting his own.

"Who's coming for you?" Daphne asked, curiously, and Harry just _knew_ that she was wondering if it was going to be Snape.

The man becoming a topic of excited discussion amongst all the students at Hogwarts ever since their return to school, three months before.

"Uh – Mr. Bla – Reg - " Harry cleared his throat; "Malachi's dad. He's taking us into London for a bit, first."

He heard Malachi snicker behind them, as they stepped out of the compartment and made their way down the walkway of the carriage.

"Don't know why you still think it's so weird just to call him by his name," Malachi said, as he and Luna followed them, hand-in-hand.

"He was 'Mr. Black' for years."

"You called his _brother_ Sirius."

" _Uncle_ Sirius," Harry corrected him.

Come to think of it, _Uncle Regulus_ sounded a little bit less overly familiar than simply Regulus did.

"I get it," Daphne said, grinning with amusement even as she came to his defence, "I mean, if your stepdad told me to start calling him 'Severus' after knowing him as Professor Snape all that time, I'd find it _really_ weird."

"Ha!" Malachi didn't miss his chance; " _Harry_ doesn't even call him Severus."

Daphne's eyebrows lifted – both she and Luna suddenly looking even more amused than before – as she turned to him; "You don't?"

"Do you refer to him as 'stepfather'?" Luna asked, innocently, to more guffaws from Malachi, who tugged Luna in close to wrap an arm around her shoulders as they stepped off the train onto the platform.

"No," Harry rolled his eyes, taking Daphne's hand as they walked to where they could see Malachi's dad waiting, chatting animatedly to the baby; "I don't call him anything, really. Just 'Sir'."

" _Sir,"_ Daphne repeated, bubbles of barely repressed laughter escaping her, while Malachi's snickers became real laughter then.

"Nuts, right?"

"That's what I like to see, smiling faces coming home from school."

Mr. Black greeted them with a wide smile – baby Nicholas, too, who was facing towards them in a carrier – when they reached where he stood.

"Hey, Dad," Malachi smiled, warmly, stepping away from Luna to give him a hug, before he chuckled Nicholas' chin and gave him a kiss on the head, his smile even warmer for his little brother.

"Aw, hi, Nicholas," Daphne cooed – looking just as besotted as Malachi did – and immediately stepped from Harry's embrace to speak to him.

Mr. Black grinned, pulling the baby up and out of the carrier, and plonked Nicholas into Daphne's eager arms.

"Harry," Mr. Black gave him a nod, before turning faux-innocent eyes Luna's way for a second, before looking at Malachi expectantly.

Harry grinned, then, as he realized that the tides of hilarity were about to turn in his own favour, for Malachi had been avoiding _this_ particular meeting for some time.

When Malachi just stared back at his dad, not budging, Mr. Black grinned and held out a hand to her himself.

"You must be Luna."

Luna smiled, taking his hand – as if to shake it – but Malachi's dad gave the back of it a kiss with a flourish, instead, to Malachi's obvious exasperation.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Black," Luna said, smiling with reddened cheeks.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Sweetheart," Mr. Black said, releasing her hand, and giving Malachi a wink, "My son has been rather _coy_ with any details. But I must say, that you are even more lovely than I knew you would be."

"Thank you, Mr. Black," Luna beamed at him, smiling widely now – obviously charmed – before she added; "You're very handsome too."

"Oh ho!" Mr. Black beamed right back at her, before clapping Malachi on the shoulder; "Son. I _approve!"_

Malachi pressed his palms to his face, blushing like mad, while Harry and Daphne could no longer hold back their hysterics.

And then Nicholas joined in too – with delighted baby giggles, as if understanding the joke – from where he was held in Daphne's arms, which made Malachi drop his hands and look at his little brother, quickly, with surprised delight in his eyes.

Before Malachi rolled his eyes, shooting his dad a look while Mr. Black chuckled, reaching to take Nicholas back into the carrier – settling him in – before he slung another an arm around his son's shoulders and drew him away.

Harry turned to Daphne, as Malachi and Mr. Black walked with Luna in the direction of her dad, where he was also stood waiting.

No doubt so Mr. Black could introduce himself to them, too.

Not that introductions would necessary, considering the way every eye that wasn't on _Harry_ , right now, turned to follow the man's every move, with whispers and nods of greeting as he and Malachi passed.

Daphne gave Harry a coy smile; "Weird having an audience?"

Harry shrugged.

"Mr. Black took some of the eyes away."

He glanced over at one of the beams, before getting a smile, and he tugged her to follow him further across the platform, urging her where to stand.

"Why here?" Daphne asked, managing to both smile and frown as she glanced around them, for they were no more sheltered here than they were where they'd been before.

Harry kept his eyes on hers but pointed upwards between them.

Daphne glanced up, noticing the mistletoe overhead, before she smiled, raising an eyebrow, and met his eyes.

It was that same coy little smile of hers that he _loved_ bringing to her face.

"Oh? It'd be all over the papers."

Harry grinned and shrugged.

"So."

He tugged her in closer and kissed her then and there – ignoring the 'awws' of the nosey people looking – and just enjoyed the simple normality of kissing his girlfriend goodbye for Christmas, in the middle of a packed King's Cross Station.

Daphne drew back first, though she remained close, and her smile turned impish rather than coy then.

"Well. Have a good Christmas with your mum and your sister. And your 'Sir'."

Harry chuckled, nodding; "I will. It's our first one."

"I know it is," Daphne raised her eyebrows; "Enjoy it."

Harry smiled.

Determined that he would.

* * *

Muggles were packed, shoulder to shoulder, within the carriage as the train hurtled with a screech through the underground tunnel.

The tube.

There was always that rush – that impatience – amongst them, as they waited and poured in and out at each stop – sometimes barely a minute apart – but, as December wore on, the anticipation was heightened.

Angry voices, jolly voices and singing in the tunnels as they made their way up the escalators to the streets.

People jostling and barking at one another in their rush to ascend.

Regulus was used to all of this now.

They stepped out onto the street at Hyde Park Corner and made their way to the fair.

It was a tradition, long standing for himself and his son – the Christmas celebrations in Hyde Park – but with the festivities – literally – on their doorstep, now, it seemed foolish not to take advantage.

Snow was falling – not lying, for footfall was quickly turning it to slosh – and merry Christmas music played – carried on the chilly breeze from within the park – and there was the laughter and the singing and the heckles of muggles, as the three of them – Nicholas in tow, napping, now, in his carrier – stepped on into the crowd and made their way through, to the corridors of market stalls that lined the pavements.

The three of them spent the next couple of hours lost in the festivities, full of teasing and laughter, as the poked and prodded at the items for sale – and one another – encouraging each other to try on this silly hat, and that ugly scarf, or pick a gift and who'd it make you think of, before they munched on various savory snacks that were adorned on skewers and chocolate covered marshmallows and pieces of fruit.

Nicholas reached up, eagerly – eyes wide with delight – for the piece of strawberry Regulus held in front of him, when his dad turned him back to face the celebrations when he awoke.

"Three mulled wines, please," Malachi said, when they reached the front of the beverage line some time later.

"Make those _virgin_ mulled wines, Sweetheart. Two," Regulus winked at the girl behind the stall, while Malachi rolled his eyes.

"Coming right up," the girl said, with a bright smile, as she stepped away.

"So, tell me, Son," Regulus put an arm around his shoulders; "How'd you like your new Head of House? Same as mine, y'know."

"Slughorn? Oh, I know," Malachi rolled his eyes; "He doesn't shut up about you."

"Is that right?"

"Mhm. He even keeps a picture of you," Malachi shot Harry a smirk; " _And_ Harry's mum."

Regulus chuckled, nodding; "That sounds like Slughorn."

"Two mulled wines," the girl reappeared, with full steaming mugs that Regulus took one at a time, handing each over – careful of Nicholas, still in his carrier – first to Harry, and then to Malachi, whose eyes twinkled as he smirked at him.

"Thank you, Sir."

Harry rolled his eyes, elbowing Malachi in the side, while Regulus shot him a look, as he handed over the muggle money to the girl.

"Watch it, you."

The boys erupted into snickers – the cheeky little sods – as they made their way further into the market.

"Didn't you say Julia wanted to invite Draco for Christmas?" Malachi asked, as they bumped their way through the crowd – the boys sheltering their mugs, while Regulus sheltered his excited baby son – and he nodded.

"Oh, we did. Got a letter last week. Grateful, of course, but he made it clear in his letter that he'd much rather spend the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts…" Regulus said, before he added with a grin; "With 'Remus'."

" _Remus_? Wow," Malachi's eyebrows lifted; "Funny, never even really thought about Professor Lupin and him getting close like that."

"Well, he _is_ family now. The husband of the new _Mrs. Nymphadora Lupin_ , in case you've forgotten that glorious event this summer," Regulus pointed out, before he perked up as they reached the fairground, "Aha. Did you boys bring your letters to the North Pole? Grotto over there, could go and have a sit on Santa's lap?"

Harry laughed while Malachi snickered, shaking his head into his mug while he carried on sipping, the two of them sharing a look that said – _oh, what a true embarrassment his father is!_ – which only made Regulus laugh, heartily, along with them.

"Of course, no need!" Regulus went on, before reaching up and taking Nicholas' little hands in his, doing a little dance; "Got our own Little Saint Nick here to celebrate with."

The boys laughed more fully then – Nicholas giggling along with them – before Regulus nodded at the line for the Ferris Wheel.

"London by Christmas Lights, now _that_ is a sight to behold!"

Before long, they were riding in one of the passenger cars, Regulus pointing out all of the city sights to Nicholas when they reached and stopped at the highest height – his youngest completely delighted by the movement of the fairground ride – while Harry and Malachi chatted away, animatedly, on the bench opposite.

Regulus had always been amazed – ever since he'd been brought here as a child – by the lights and the festive splendor of the Christmas decorations that adorned the streets and the market and the shop windows whenever December rolled around.

This year, however, Regulus had a particular appreciation for it. For the effort that it must have taken the muggles to light up the city for the occasion.

An appreciation brought about, of course, by the fact that he, himself, had thought it would be _incredibly romantic_ to scatter the bed sheets and hallways with rose petals and light his and Julia's bedroom up with hundreds of candles to mark the occasion of their first night alone together – Lily and Severus offering to take Nicholas for a night in September – following the birth of their son.

A task which, as a wizard, would have taken a second – a simple tilt of his chin – but, as a newly-made muggle – for he much preferred that term to _squib_ – this simple task had taken far longer than anticipated.

And Regulus was certain that was not _only_ due to the fact he'd only bought one pack of matches – so he had to lift each carefully placed candle back up after lighting the first hundred to light the rest – the entire undertaking taking so long that Julia had ended up falling asleep on the couch waiting.

He had insisted Julia carry on sleeping when she roused to join him, knowing that she was particularly exhausted during those early days of parenthood – and that they did, in fact, have many more nights to look forward to – so, he had got a blanket and simply joined her, the two of them falling asleep snuggled up on the couch as they'd done in those blissful early days together.

 _After_ he'd spent another half hour blowing out all the bloody candles, one by one, of course.

He had promptly headed into Covent Garden the next morning, while Julia had gone to collect Nicholas from Lily, and bought a mound of fairy lights that he set up in the bedroom, ready for next time.

"Wait, isn't that where you live?" Harry pointed to the row of townhouses, easily visible from where they were suspended in the air.

"Yeah," Malachi shrugged, as the Ferris Wheel started back up again and they made a swooping descent; "You've been in it, mind?"

"Once. At night," Harry pointed out; "I didn't realise it was so close to everything!"

"Dad insisted," Malachi said, giving a coo and a smile to Nicholas, to his baby brother's delight.

"Oh yes," Regulus admitted it; "The hustle and bustle of city life always was a soft spot for me, boys."

"Wait, did you get that muggle thing set up?" Malachi asked, his eyes suddenly lighting up with obvious recollection; "With the games?"

Regulus made a show of thinking about it; "Hm. I think you'd have to ask Santa Clause."

Malachi shot him a look, a smile playing on his lips.

"It's Father Christmas," Malachi pointed out.

" _Santa Clause_ is the preferred term amongst my current circle of peers, isn't that right, Little Sprout? All the ladies talk about, these days, at our 'Mummy and me' groups –" Regulus said, to bubbles of laughter; "Yes. It's up and running – had seem help from good old Steve – though _good luck_ trying to navigate that thing, you two."

"Who's Steve?" Harry frowned.

"Neighbor next door," Malachi said, with a shrug; "Can we go now? To the house?"

The Ferris Wheel came to a halt and they disembarked, as Malachi eagerly went on; "We could play it a bit before Harry has to go home?"

Regulus grinned, before handing over the key; "You two go on ahead. I promised Nicholas here a little ride on the carousel."

Malachi laughed and rolled his eyes, before he took the house key – which Harry looked at as if it were a great novelty, indeed – and the boys headed off in the direction of the gates while Regulus took Nicholas' little hands in his once more – doing another dance with his arms, making him giggle – as he stepped further into the crowd.

Entirely at ease amongst the festive, celebrating muggles.

* * *

It was late by the time Julia dropped Harry off at the house, for the new muggle thing that Malachi had gotten – which Mr. Black hadn't been able to sort out that summer – was completely _awesome._

A _play station._

So much so that when Malachi had suggested Harry just spend the night, Harry couldn't help but immediately say yes – determined that he _would_ beat Malachi at this game – and Julia quickly sent off a message to his mum that he'd be back the next morning, if that was alright.

But, as the night wore on, guilt set in, knowing his mum and – especially – Grace would be disappointed that he'd delayed his return.

Even if his mum had sent back a message saying that was no problem at all.

And, so, here he was.

Walking through the door into an almost completely silent house, just after eleven.

Harry cleared his throat, calling out into the unexpected darkness; "Um – hello?"

The silence dragged on and Harry shrugged – wondering if he ought to have just stayed at Malachi's – but it was too late to be disappointed by his choice to return, now, so he headed in and lit up the room, taking in the familiar surroundings.

Mostly, it all looked the same.

But there were the odd few differences, here and there, that had slowly begun to spring up throughout those blissful summer days before Harry had returned to school.

Differences such as the chair situated by the fireplace and the side table next to it – that hadn't been there before – adorned with a pile of very serious-looking books.

 _Daddy's spot,_ Grace called it.

And a new bookshelf by the nook, filled with even more serious-looking books.

And there was a new picture sitting upon the mantle.

The one that had previously been of just three of them now replaced by one of the four – of he, and Grace, with his mum and Snape – taken just days following the final fall of Voldemort, at his mum and Snape's wedding.

If it could be called that, Harry thought to himself, with a smirk as he stepped further into the room, dropping his bag down on the floor.

There were already some Christmas decorations up. Not all of them yet. Just a few garlands and some candles and even the tree was up – undecorated – in front of the window, ready and waiting for them.

The coffee table had books and leaflets and parchment and crayons scattered upon it.

Harry smiled when he saw a picture drawn in amongst the mess of a Christmas tree and four figures – obviously them – beside it, that Grace had made.

And then his eyes perked up and he reached down to lift and glance at one of the other items – a program – which seemed to be of the launch convention that Harry realized had taken place that afternoon.

The reason it had been Mr. Black who'd been at the train station to greet him.

Harry's eyes found his mum's name amongst the listings – knowing her project was one of those being proposed – and he smiled when he found it.

Mrs. Lily P. Snape.

Harry guessed that was where they were.

That, maybe, Grace had gone to stay with Tonks – for she was still _Tonks_ to them all, despite her own nuptials that summer.

Harry lifted his bag and headed up the stairs.

He was at the door to his room, in the darkness, when a voice behind him spoke, making him jump.

"I see you have decided to grace us with your presence this evening, after all."

Harry rolled his eyes when he realized, immediately, who it was, and turned to face him, pursing his lips to hold back a smile.

Snape.

Standing outside the door to his mum's – their – bedroom.

In his nightclothes.

It wasn't the first time Harry had seen that, obviously – they'd lived together all summer – but it was still a bewildering sight to behold.

One that Harry wasn't quite used to yet.

"Oh. Hi," Harry smiled.

Snape flicked his wand and the hallway lit up, making Harry flinch a bit.

"Um. Is mum still at that convention?"

"Indeed. She decided to return to partake in the evening festivities upon receiving your message."

Harry realized Snape must have stayed for Grace – could hear the little snuffling snores of his sister from the slight gap of her bedroom door now that he was upstairs – and felt sheepish, once more.

"Sorry, I…"

Harry hesitated, not entirely sure that saying he had wanted to stay so that he and Malachi could continue to indulge in playing muggle video games all night would be a good enough excuse for Snape for turning up so late. Or, rather, not turning up at all.

But Snape didn't look mad.

If anything, he just looked – a little bit – pleased to see him.

"Was Grace upset?"

"I am quite certain your sister will find a way to ensure her brother makes up for the disappointment."

Harry chuckled, nodding, as he glanced at Grace's ajar bedroom door; "Yeah. I bet."

Snape continued to just regard him – a little bit warmly, a little bit uncertainly, as if neither of them really knew how to greet one another after this relatively short time apart – before the man simply gave him a nod.

"Well."

Snape turned, making to return to bed.

"Um…Sir?" Harry almost cringed at the title, after Malachi's teasing all day, but Snape turned as if that were entirely normal, meeting his eyes.

And Harry felt himself relax then, at the warm enquiry in the man's eyes; reminding him that they'd spent three months together that summer, during which Harry had quite determinedly considered him family – and he knew that Snape had felt the same – and then he smiled.

For he knew Snape would take the lead from him, rather than the other way around on this.

"It's good to see you."

Snape's lips twitched a little – that almost smile that Harry was extremely familiar with now – before he simply said:

"Goodnight, Harry."

And the two of them headed into their own respective rooms.

Harry certain he got the glimpse of an unhindered, genuine smile on the man's face, as he slipped back into the dark.

* * *

The next few days passed in a haze of excitement, in the lead up to their first Christmas together.

As the family they'd all keenly dreamed of.

Grace woke Harry at the crack of dawn when she'd, somehow, learned of his return – no doubt by intending to snoop in his room thinking that he wasn't about – and they'd had a quickly gobbled down breakfast before either Snape or their mum had even woken up, before – as soon as Harry had finished the last spoonful of porridge that he'd made them – he was dragged out into the freshly-fallen snow by his delighted little sister.

" _It's been snowing, Harry!"_

The two of them played in it as if they were both still little kids – which Harry couldn't help but become, often, under the playful antics of his sister – and they made snow angels and flung snowballs at one another before quickly putting together a snowman.

Followed by a snowwoman.

And two snowkids.

All at Grace's insistence.

"It's us!" Grace declared, smiling widely at their creation as Harry stepped back up beside her with the items she'd sent him back into the house for.

"Here, I brought the carrots –" Harry dumped the crate on the ground; " – wait, Grace, that one's all bent and crooked."

Harry tried to stop her, as she made to stick it into the head of the tallest snowman.

"I like this one, it's the best one, see," Grace pointed to the crooked bump; "It's like Daddy's real nose!"

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed and laughed, relieved that it was just the two of them out there as Grace stuck the crooked carrot into the snowman's head and called him Mr. Snape, before wrapping a black scarf around its neck.

They weren't alone for long – his mum and Snape joining them – the new arrivals making themselves known when his mum tossed a snowball at Harry in lieu of a hug of greeting.

Her attack triggered _another_ snowball fight that Snape daren't deign to join in with, but Harry could see – from the glimpses cast his way – the way his lips would twitch in those occasional little smiles as he watched the three of them frolicking in the snow, with a contentedness in his expression that was almost beginning to become as familiar as those almost-smiles.

The hot chocolate station came a couple of days later.

After all the snowball fights and the gingerbread house decorating and the Christmas crafting that Grace had insisted they do had taken place.

"But…if your Uncle Sirius used to do this with you, how come we've never done this before?" Grace asked, as she and Harry set up the marshmallows and sprinkles on the table.

Harry shrugged, sheepishly, not really knowing how to answer that. How it had, at first, simply fallen away in the years that followed losing Sirius. Harry only reminded, once more, when he'd spent Christmas at Mr. Black and Malachi's. The dreadful year that he hadn't seen his sister at all over the festive period.

And it wasn't as if he and his mum were any mood to celebrate Christmas _last_ year. What with Dumbledore's death and everything.

Harry unscrewed and held open the jar of marshmallows, that Grace eagerly took a handful of, determined that this Christmas would make up for all the terrible ones that had passed by them more recently.

"Been saving it 'till you're ready for it, Grace," Harry nudged her, making her smile, before he capped and put the jar back on the table; "Bringing back the old traditions seemed like a good idea. Now we've got your dad back with us and everything."

Grace smiled – though her excitement at every mention of Snape had dwindled somewhat, now that he was finally a permanent fixture in day-to-day life – before she pointed to the mug with the reindeer, and Harry set about making her a hot chocolate; "What's traditions?"

"Something you do time and again, whenever Christmas – or special events – come about."

"Like decorating the tree?"

"Mhm."

"And…"

"Presents. Baking cookies. Making those Christmas cards we did. And decorating the gingerbread house. Anything, really, like what we've been doing."

Grace grinned.

"I _like_ traditions. We've always done _those_ things, though. We should ask Mummy and Daddy if we can make a new one, just us four!"

Harry smiled and told her that they would.

And that was how they ended up walking through the streets the following night, in the dark, eyes seeking out all the Christmas lights in the windows and the gardens of the neighbours.

For that was the only Christmas tradition that Snape could think of from memory.

And Harry couldn't help but notice that he struggled to come up with even that one.

"Look, Daddy, there's a Santa's Sleigh all lit up over there!" Grace pointed, from where she was up on Harry's back.

"So it is."

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Very much so."

Harry glanced over at Snape as he said it, noticing his eyes were warm and his expression almost light as he held his mum's hand, the four of them walking along together as the snow began to fall once more.

His mum was delighted – for she loved the snow – that they were forecast to have a white Christmas in Yorkshire, for the first time in years.

The star for the tree and the stockings came last, on Christmas Eve.

"Daddy! The new tree's so big, you're going to have to put the star on."

Snape stepped away from his mum and made his way over to where Grace stood with Harry – the silver star clutched in her hand – but rather than taking it from her when he reached them, he hoisted Grace up into the air – making her laugh – and held her up to the tree for her to put it on.

Harry chuckled, sharing a smile with his mum, as Grace was plonked back down on her feet beside him.

Grace frowned, tilting her head as she looked at where the star had been placed upon the highest bough; "We should've got the one that lights up."

Snape glanced at her, where he still stood at the tree, and then he flicked his wand.

The star started to sparkle.

Grace giggled, sharing a delighted look with Harry, before looking back at Snape over her shoulder.

"Daddy. Why do we put a star on the tree?"

Snape was silent for a moment.

"Because the stars guide people to where they need to be."

Grace looked thoughtful at that, before she looked at Harry, getting a slow smile. And then she turned back to the star and lifted up a hand, waving at it.

"Hi, Sirius."

Harry laughed, and then he felt his mum's hand on his shoulder – giving it a squeeze as her lips pressed to his cheek – before Grace slipped from their side and hurried up to the table for the last items in the box.

"Stockings go up last!"

Grace handed them all out. First, the three tatty tartan stockings, well-worn, that had been going up on the mantle for years and then the newer, fresher one, with 'Daddy' stitched into the top, that Snape's eyes lingered upon for a second – almost reverently - before they attached each of them to spots on the fireplace.

Harry smiled to himself as he looked at them – noticed his mum doing the same – before he felt Grace's hand take and tug on his hand.

Barely giving them any time to really _bask_ in all of this, in her youthful excitement at the festivities.

"Come on!"

She grabbed Snape's hand too, pulling them both to the door.

"I can hear the bells, Mummy! Quickly, get the food for the reindeer."

His mum laughed and accioed the jar, as the four of them came out onto the doorstep of the house.

Grace hurried down the snow-covered path, sprinkling the sparkly seed mixture, while – sure enough – bells could be heard ringing in the distance, before she finished up and hurried back to where they stood.

"You've never been here for Christmas before, Daddy," Grace remarked, innocently, as she reached them.

Her eyes bright and her cheeks rosy from the chill in the air.

Snape nodded, only once; "That I haven't."

"Will you be here in the morning? For the presents?" Grace asked, seeming to think the fact he was there too good to be true.

Something that Harry kind of thought, too.

"I will."

Grace smiled, brightly, before she stepped up to stand where they stood and as Harry moved aside to make way for her, he caught Snape's eyes.

The two of them sharing a look that told him that Snape felt the same. That, somehow, they were all sharing in a dream that they'd all had but had always felt out of reach.

A fantasy.

Except, it wasn't that anymore.

All of this was real.

Harry smiled at him. Awarded, to his surprise, by a small smile from Snape in turn.

Maybe Harry _was_ just dreaming.

He felt his mum's arms come up and around him and Grace as they stood and listened and – Harry was sure – Snape's arm was somewhere around them, too.

The four of them lingering on the doorstep of home, on their eve of their first Christmas as a family, as fresh flurries of snow began to fall.

* * *

Malachi kept his face hidden behind the stocking for another second, before letting it drop.

"Boo!"

Nicholas burst into thrilled giggles, delighting Malachi once again with the sound.

He'd only just heard his baby brother's laughter for the first time recently – at the start of these holidays – with Nicholas still being so little when he'd set off back to school at the end of the summer.

Malachi reached over, giving him an affectionate tickle, before he adjusted one of the – several – pillows that he'd arranged in a semi-circle around the back of where Nicholas was sitting. For Malachi always was a bit of a worrywart, it seemed, whenever his dad and Julia asked him to watch him for a bit.

Nicholas' eyes followed him, eagerly, obviously keen to carry on with the game and Malachi – helpless to resist – lifted the Christmas stocking back up to hide his face for another game of peek-a-boo in the living room of the new townhouse that they'd all moved into just at the beginning of August.

It had been strange, at first, to live in London.

The hustle and bustle of city life on their doorstep a complete culture shock to him, after spending years and years in the country or along the quiet coastal villages or amongst the trees.

Hidden.

But his dad and Julia had given Malachi the choice, first, to choose where they'd settle down. And he knew, from the hesitant looks in their eyes, that what they were really asking him was if he wanted to go back to Crail.

That they'd loved it as much as Malachi had.

It had been on the tip of his lips – yes, for the place was _home_ – but he knew, even then, that the sounds of the waves and the crisp Scottish breeze would only make him think of her.

So, he told his dad no. Not Crail. He'd go wherever else his dad and Julia wanted.

And – after mutters between them and jokes that Malachi wasn't entirely sure were actually jokes about Paris – they'd decided on London.

And, so, to London the Blacks went.

His dad loved it here.

While Malachi, feeling like it was all just an extended holiday or something at first, had found himself asking his dad on their third night here why.

" _Hm. Well. City's always felt like home, I suppose."_

Whenever his dad went out, he'd leave and return with a smile on his face – in his element amongst the crowds and the noise and the rush – and Malachi quickly got used to it.

The sight of his dad's unhindered happiness.

He'd been sick of hiding, too.

And within just a few short weeks – there, with his dad and his stepmum and his baby brother – London had started to feel like home to him too.

And then he'd gone back to Hogwarts.

More reluctant than ever.

Malachi dropped the stocking.

"Boo!"

Nicholas erupted into fits of delighted giggles once again – before toppling over onto the pillows with mirth this time, making Malachi _extremely_ glad he'd put them there – and he laughed, too, helpless under his little brother's joy and he leaned over to help him sit back up opposite him on the rug in front of the fireplace.

"Listen to that, Wife –"

Malachi looked up, seeing his dad and Julia coming into the room – his dad's arms wrapped around her from behind with his chin propped on her shoulder – as he grinned.

" – our boys are in their element this year. Can't beat the sound of a house full of kids' laughter on Christmas Eve, am I right?"

His dad wiggled his eyebrows – as if there was a shared unspoken joke between them – while Julia shot his dad an amused look and shrugged him off with a smile.

"We gonna get these stockings up, hm?" Julia said, giving Malachi a wink as she reached the two of them, reaching down to lift up Nicholas – who held his arms out towards her – onto her hip; "This little man is already up way past his bedtime."

"Only you could keep him smiling through the witching hour, Son," his dad remarked, clapping Malachi on the shoulder as he got to his feet.

Malachi laughed, nodding – _remembering_ those wails – and made to hand over the stocking he and Nicholas had been playing with.

"No, no," his dad held up a hand, before handing over one of the three he held, "You put up your little brother's. And yours."

It seemed kind of silly, to be so thrilled about hanging up stockings, of all things, especially considering he was hardly a kid, anymore – sixteen in a few months – but, still, Malachi did feel the thrill as he went over and attached his own and then Nicholas' to the middle of the mantlepiece.

His dad and Julia hung theirs up on either side.

"With this precious act complete, we can officially declare it Christmas Eve and this home ready for Father Christmas," Julia announced, to their chuckles, before she gave Malachi a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Going to feed this one –" she said as she nuzzled into Nicholas' cheek, to more delighted giggles, " – see you both in a while. Marshmallows _and_ cream."

His dad smiled and nodded at the reminded hot chocolate preferences, as Julia headed from the room with Nicholas in her arms, leaving Malachi and his dad in front of the fireplace.

His dad eyed the stockings, appraisingly.

Malachi frowned, watching him.

"What?"

His dad shrugged, looking contemplative.

"Looks a bit crowded, don't you think?"

Malachi glanced back at it.

At what Malachi, quite frankly, thought looked _fantastic_.

The mantle that was adorned with a pinecone and berry garland – several lit, long candles sticking up from amongst the branches – and four Christmas stockings which hung below, above the fire, with each of their names – Malachi, Nicholas, Mummy and Daddy – stitched into the fabric.

Malachi grinned and rolled his eyes.

"You're the one that wanted _those_ stockings," Malachi pointed out; "I told you. They're too big."

His dad made a face, shaking his head.

"We need a bigger mantle."

"We don't need a bigger mantle, Dad."

"Oh, I assure you, we do."

"What, especially for Christmas?"

His dad grinned then, his eyes still on the stockings, before he nodded.

"Mhm. That's right."

"That's mad."

"Is it?" his dad looked at him, innocently – but he had that _twinkle_ in his eyes, making Malachi pause – before his dad flung an arm around Malachi's shoulders and drew him closer; "I disagree. Want to know why?"

Malachi eyed him, at his side; " _Why_?"

"Well, because next year…"

His dad started to laugh.

Happy, joyful – teasing – laughter, before he gave a little shrug.

" – we're going to be hanging another stocking."

Malachi simply stared at him for a second.

At his dad's delighted, beaming smile – a little chuckle escaping him while his eyes twinkled – and then Malachi smiled.

Smiled for a second, before he started laughing too.

Their joyful laughter carrying throughout the house while, beyond the windows, bells ringing and carolers singing could be heard floating up to them from the streets below.

The uplifting, merry sounds of Christmas time at home.

**_~ Fin ~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Everyone!
> 
> This one was originally written as a stand-alone Christmas special (as I found myself not quite ready to let go of everyone at the end of the main story) but since it fits quite nicely as an Epilogue too, here it is ;-)


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